“Is that why you left us alone?”
“Yes. Do you feel better now?”
“Why should I feel better? You're already in so much hot water that I have no hold on you.”
“Sorry.” He studied her for a moment. “What can I do to help?”
She stared at him and then laughed incredulously. “I believe you really mean that.”
“I do. I want you comfortable with me.”
“Then tell me about that man in the sketch. Tell me about the man who shot Ken down.”
He didn't answer her for a moment. “I ran into him several months ago in Fairfax, Texas. I was sent there for a job and I saw him earlier that night.”
“You're sure it was him?”
He nodded. “That night is pretty well engraved on my memory.”
“Did you see any of the other men?”
“No. But that doesn't mean they weren't there. The place was a beehive of activity.”
“What kind of beehive?”
“Labs. I thought it was a damn strange place for Morales to be.”
“Morales?”
“The target. Juan Morales, big-time narcotics and arms dealer. At the time I speculated that maybe the Fairfax factory was purifying heroin or manufacturing crack or ecstasy.”
“At the time? Not now?”
He shook his head. “You want some coffee?”
“Am I going to need it?”
He shook his head again. “Nothing very horrific happened that night. Well, I guess it might be to you. My orders were to take out Morales at the hotel in town and retrieve a briefcase he was carrying. It was supposed to be jammed full of money. I couldn't get a shot at the hotel, so I followed Morales to this little textile factory on the outskirts of town. He was met at the gate by your shooter in the sketch. There was lots of security, so I waited outside. When he came out, I followed him back to town, got an opportunity, and took my shot.”
“You killed him?”
“I don't miss. Since I didn't get a chance to do the job before he went to the factory, I thought I'd better check the briefcase to make sure he didn't give the money to the man who met him at the gate.”
“And?”
“No money. Just three sets of engineering plans with interesting notations. Strategic locations where to place explosives to bring down the structure. They even had suggestions as to what kind of explosives would work best.”
“What structures?”
He shook his head. “I don't know. There were no names. The plans were labeled Z-1, Z-2, and Z-3.”
“What did you do with them?”
“I did as I was ordered. I took the briefcase to Al Leary, my CIA contact, and told him the job was done but there was no money, only the plans. I could tell he wasn't pleased that I'd opened the briefcase, but he covered it almost immediately. Two days later I was sent to North Korea. The rest is history. I didn't even connect the two jobs until I saw the story about Arapahoe Dam on the news.”
She stiffened. “What?”
“Two of the diagrams were of multistoried structures. But one of the plans was a dam: Z-1.”
“Jesus.”
“But the report on Arapahoe Dam was that no sabotage had been detected. Particularly no explosives. It could have been coincidental.”
“And you did nothing?”
“I'm on the run. Was I supposed to go to Colorado and investigate a disaster that was probably natural?”
“You could have told someone, called—”
“Who? The CIA? If Arapahoe Dam was Z-1, then maybe the fact that I had had a look at those plans was the reason I was set up and sanctioned. FBI? Too chancy. They work pretty closely with the CIA these days.” He met her gaze. “I decided to preserve my neck. I'm not one of your heroes. I'd spent years doing the dirtiest job on earth to form some sort of barrier between my country and the ugliness out there. All I got for it was a stab in the back. I opted out. If you don't like it, too bad.”
“You can't opt out. That doesn't solve anything.”
“It solved the question of whether I lived or died.”
“Past tense. Does that mean you're not opting out any longer?”
“The question is moot. I've been sucked into this and I've got to act or be pulled under.”
She made a rude noise.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Don't try to give me that guff. You've had choices all along and you know it. You took the job Logan offered because you wanted to find out if Z-1 and Arapahoe Dam were the same. You just don't want to admit it to me.”
“Why?”
“I don't know. Perhaps you're afraid I'll think you're not as cynical as you claim you are. Don't worry. I'm not about to make that mistake. Everyone has a right to one lapse.”