Yousef’s eyes widen. “How did you know?”

“Hector Cortez’s widow got the same thing.”

Yousef considers this. “Your father must have arranged it. Before he died.”

“What did he mean by saying the money was cursed?” I ask. “That nobody wanted … what did you say, nobody wanted to talk to him?”

“That’s right. He was very upset, almost shouting. I felt bad. Your father was good to me, and when he decided he was going to tell someone about the money, he told me first. He didn’t have to do that.” Yousef leans forward. “He sent me my share when he could easily have kept it. And I thought about returning the money, but …” Yousef brushes his hair with his hand again. “Now I have two daughters and a little boy. That money is for them. I haven’t spent a penny of it. It’s their future, something to protect them. Your father knew what I would do with the money. I told him more than once what I would do with it. I’ve worked hard here, built a career, a family. And that money is an extra insurance policy, for them.” Yousef holds my gaze in his own. “Your father was a good man.”

“My father was a thief.” My voice is louder than I intended. I can hear the anger in it, see its effect on Yousef, who leans back, away from me. “He got in bed with a guy like Finn and stole millions of dollars. What do I even do with that?”

Quietly and with stiff dignity, Yousef says, “Did you not hear what I said?”

“I don’t give a shit what you do with the money,” I say. “Give it to your kids or buy a yacht or throw it in a fire, I don’t care. I’m not mad at you. My father stole it. You helped him, okay, but you also had to leave your country, which we pretty much fucked up, and then start all over again here. You get a pass.”

“I shouldn’t get a pass,” Yousef says. “I agonize over it. Your father did too. At least he tried to tell his government about it.”

“Well, apparently they didn’t want to hear it,” I say. Which also bothers me, although that’s a problem to solve another day. Right now I just need to leave, to fly back home.

“May I ask why you came here now?” Yousef says.

I consider lying to him, then decide to tell him the truth. As far as I know, he’s been honest with me. “Because Finn is out of prison,” I say. “And he didn’t get a duffel bag with a note attached, and he wants to know why.”

Yousef blanches. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”