Ishant shrugged. “Listen to how you talk. ‘I’ this and ‘my’ that. Never ‘we,’ as if you were never a part of Muungano. But for all of your ‘freedom,’ you still found yourself gravitating to Xola. Then back to O.E. With your résumé, you were an asset to many organizations. You sound good…”

“Articulate.” Lebna found the page Ishant now worked from, falling into his conversational rhythm. He was very good. Such a talent. Who warranted an eye being kept on them.

“You look the part…”

“Clean shaven. I daresay respectable.” Lebna nodded in mocking agreement.

“But you destroy community everywhere you go,” Ishant said.

“Poison.”

“You look like us and sound like us, but you weren’t one of us.”

“Night Train.” Lebna delivered the blow with a smooth aplomb.

“You’ve been played and probably don’t even realized how they’ve used you as a highly trained sleeper agent inserted into Muungano society to sabotage.” Ishant moved in, not giving Matata a chance to reel from the accusation, much less defend himself. And assassinate.

“How long have you waited to strike? Years? Decades?” Lebna’s words hung in the air, a cold accusation.

“Were you ever one of us?”

“‘Us’? There was never any ‘us.’” Glaring at Ishant with focused intensity, Matata nearly knocked the seat out of his way. “Look at you, then look at me. Yet somehow you get to be ‘us’ and I’m…”

“… on the outside looking in,” Ishant said.

“Fuck. You.” Matata sucked his teeth and turned away. Surrendering to the voices in his head, he settled his breathing enough to sit back down. “You got me up here, another one of your boogeyman stories. Night Train? Really? That the best you can do?”

“You’re right. All we have are suppositions and coincidences.” Ishant displayed his reports. “An O.E. agent sent to kill the Muungano Camara. After a bombing of our embassy, injuring a high-ranking member of the Ijo security council, forces security protocols and redeployments. A withdrawal to the Dreaming City. Allowing you proximity to the Ijo members. A high-ranking military leader on a sensitive mission gets exposed and executed. And now the Camara’s daughter suddenly disappears. It all points to two words: decapitation strikes.”

“Wasn’t me. But that’s a good story.” Matata crossed his arms and looked away.

“You’re good.” Lebna turned to Ishant. “But the Night Train program, I’m sorry, always had the ring of a fairy tale for spies. Do you know how good an agent would have to be to pull that off? To rise through the ranks of the Niyabinghi to get that close? To fool Jaha, Selamault, and Xola while in proximity? Not a Thmei Academy washout. As much as I want to close this investigation, I’m not trying to get a clearance on some proxy.”

“Proxy?” Matata sneered.