David Lindsey: The Rules of Silence

“Listen, what happened to you came out of nowhere, unbidden and unwanted, like disease or heartbreak… like all misfortune. Nobody on this earth would've traded places with you.”

He regarded Titus across the dim light of the table.

“As for the silence, I'm not going to lie to you. It's going to change your life. Doesn't mean it's got to change it for the worse, it's just going to be different. You'll learn how to live with it.”

“Then that's the end of it? ”Titus asked. He just wanted the damn thing to have an ending, a place where it stopped. He wanted to hear Burden say, finally, officially: It's over.

Burden studied him before answering. “Why was Luquin putting money into a Hezbollah account? ”he asked. “If he was doing some service for them, helping them establish a base in Mexico within striking distance of the U.S.-which is something we're definitely watching for-then why wasn't it the other way around? Why weren't they paying him? Or were they doing a service for him? And what in the hell could that have been? And, whatever it might have been, did it end with Luquin's death? Or was he only one of many elements in a larger scheme, just as you were?”

There was a dribble of wine left in Burden's glass, and he drained it into his mouth. Carefully he put the glass on the tablecloth, smoothing a wrinkle with its wafer-thin base. He looked at Titus.

“For you and Rita, yes, it's over. You need to let it go, make peace with it.”

“What about you? ”Titus asked.

Burden seemed to consider something and then rejected it.

“History never knew about it, ”he said, “and silence keeps its own counsel.”