I hear a few beeps, then a man’s voice comes from the computer. “Esguerra. I was wondering when you would be in touch.” The speaker has an American accent and sounds well educated, if a bit stuffy. I immediately picture a middle-aged man in a suit. A bureaucrat of some kind, but a senior one, judging from the confidence in his voice. One of Julian’s government contacts, perhaps?

“I assume our Israeli friends filled you in already,” Julian says.

Holding my breath, I listen intently, not wanting to miss anything. I don’t know why Julian decided to let me learn this way, but I’m not about to quibble.

“I don’t have much to add,” Julian continues. “As you already know, the operation was a success, and I now have a couple of detainees that I’m milking for information.”

“Yes, so we’ve heard.” There is silence for a second, then the man says, “We would appreciate hearing this kind of news first next time. It would’ve been nice if the Israelis had heard about the bus from us, rather than the other way around.”

“Oh, Frank…” Julian sighs, wrapping his arm around my waist and shifting me slightly to the left. Feeling off-balance, I clutch at Julian’s arm, trying not to make any sounds as he settles me more comfortably on his leg. “You know how these things work. If you’d like to be the one spoon-feeding the Israelis, I need a little something to sweeten the deal.”

“We already wiped away all traces of your misadventure with the girl,” Frank says evenly, and I tense, realizing he’s referring to my abduction.

A misadventure? Really? For a second, irrational fury spikes through me, but then I take a calming breath and remind myself that I don’t actually want Julian punished for what he did to me—not if it means being separated from him again. Still, it would’ve been nice if they had at least acknowledged that Julian committed a crime instead of calling it a fucking ‘misadventure.’ It’s stupid, but I feel disrespected somehow—like I don’t even matter.

Oblivious to my stewing over his word choice, Frank continues, “There’s nothing more we can give you at this point—”

“Actually, you can,” Julian interrupts. Still holding me tightly, he strokes my arm in a proprietary, soothing gesture. As usual, his touch warms me from within, takes away some of my tension. He probably understands why I’m upset; no matter how you slice it, it’s insulting to have your kidnapping talked about so casually.

“How about a little tit for tat?” Julian continues softly, addressing Frank. “I let you be the heroes next time, and you let me in on some back-channel action with Syria. I’m sure there are a few tidbits you’d like to leak… and I’d love to be the one to help you out.”

There is another moment of silence, then Frank says gruffly, “Fine. Consider it done.”

“Excellent. Until next time then,” Julian says and, reaching forward, clicks on the corner of the screen to disconnect the call.