While he waited, Herbert booted his wheelchair computer. He plugged the phone into a jack with two cables. He jacked one back into the aircraft comm system and the other into his computer. He activated the transcription interface, a program that would simultaneously create a typed recording of their conversation. Herbert also practiced speaking in as deep a monotone as possible. Herbert was not sure of the nationality of the individual who had spoken to Hwan. He wanted his voice to be as geographically neutral as possible. Accents were less about the spin given to vowels and consonants than about cadence and pitch. The deeper and flatter a voice, the less identifiable it would be.

Herbert’s headset was still jacked into the aircraft’s secure phone line. He input Colonel Hwan’s number. The phone beeped several times before someone answered.

“Hwan,” said a man with a high, nasal voice. There was a long moment before the man spoke. That meant he had lifted the receiver, then had to get into position to use it. Probably because he was in bed.

“We need more coverage,” Herbert said. His voice was like a bow being drawn across a bass cello. And his goal was to keep the conversation in the third person singular. Herbert needed names.

“I’m in bed,” Hwan said.

“We need it now,” Herbert replied.

“You cannot have it now,” Hwan replied. “And who is this? You are not Marcus.”

“Marcus took ill. You know how it is here.”

Hwan said nothing.

“He’s been working too many hours, like everyone else on this damn project,” Herbert added.

Again, Hwan did not bite. Perhaps the North Korean did not know what the project was.

“I’m Marcus’s backup, Alexander Court,” Herbert said. Court was the author of a novel Herbert had seen lying in the crew bay. He liked the sound of the name. Good pseudonym. “What about it, Colonel? Can we count on your help just one more time?”

“Alexander, remind Mr. Hawke that I agreed to give him one look,” Hwan said. “I cannot afford to do more at this time. Don’t make me go to his superior, Mr. Court.”

“Maybe you should go to the boss,” Herbert pressed. “Hawke has been making all our lives miserable.”

“I suggest you complain to him yourself,” Hwan said.

“He would never take my calls,” Herbert said. He was pushing Hwan, trying to get a name.

“I doubt he would take mine either, even if I knew how to reach him,” Hwan said. “Good night, Mr. Court.”

“Colonel Hwan, will you reconsider if the boss himself calls?” Herbert asked.

“It would depend on what he has to offer,” Hwan said. “If he is willing to part with one of his Sisters, I might consider it.” He said that with a laugh.

“Which one?” Herbert asked.

“His choice,” Hwan said.

The connection was cut.