Now Sykes smiled, too. What was so damn funny? “So,” she began, “Mister Hassan, who you told us wasn’t part of that terrorist plot, told you that Detective Okoro came to him for a share of the profits from that terrorist plot. Did Detective Okoro have the wrong address?”

“I just told you. Mister Hassan was involved.”

“We need a scorecard with you, buddy,” Frank said.

“And now Mister Hassan wants to help us bring down the people responsible.”

“You mean the people responsible other than him.” Frank again.

“He didn’t set the explosion. He didn’t bet money on the outcome. He was a middleman. He had no idea at the time who his client represented. He didn’t know what was about to happen. He just made an investment at a client’s request. Which he does every day. It’s his job.”

Sykes swept an invisible speck of dust off her desk.

“And you know all that because he told you.”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t tell us before.”

“He didn’t tell me before. He thought he would be blamed. They threatened his family. But he’s told me now. He doesn’t want anyone else to be hurt. He feels terrible. He wants to make it all stop.”

“In exchange for a deal?”

Rafe nodded. “No prosecution.”

“So there’s a limit on how terrible he feels.”

Rafe could see a glimmer of satisfaction on her face, having proven, once again, that no one in the world was entirely honest or innocent or good.

“He’s not the one demanding the deal,” Rafe said. “I am.”

“You haven’t answered the question,” Sykes said.

“What question?”

“What was in the suitcase?”

“Nothing,” Rafe said. “Nothing relevant to any of this.” Thinking, what else could he possibly say? Dirty underwear? Gym clothes? Things for a trip he was going to take after visiting Majid that day but then forget to take?

“You see my problem,” Sykes said, not looking as if she had a problem. “Mister Hassan says he knows things that can help us. And his reference, the person vouching for him, refuses to answer a simple question about a suspicious activity that involves Mister Hassan.”

“Talk to him yourself,” Rafe said. “Ask him anything.”

“But could we believe that he’s telling us everything?” said Frank. And then, as if just then struck by the thought. “He’s not an American citizen, is he?”

“No.”

“Or a Swiss citizen?” Frank didn’t wait for Rafe to say no again. “So there’s no authority to object if he happened to end up in another country helping in the fight against terrorism, where he might be persuaded to tell everything he knows. With no deal required.”

“Are we still doing that?” Rafe said, actually shocked. “Rendition?” Thinking of Majid in an Egyptian prison, of Majid in a Saudi dungeon.

Sykes said nothing. “International cooperation,” Frank said. “Very helpful.”