David Lindsey - The Rules of Silence

Titus turned and sat on the slab again, a few feet away from Norlin. He felt a little light-headed, his thoughts alternating in velocity between a stunned, sluggish incredulity and the frenetic, revved-up hyperjitter of panic. He wanted to stand up again. He wanted to pace. He wanted to be able to think methodically. He wanted more air. He wanted to wake up.

“I'm going to give you some advice, ”Norlin said. “Your situation, there are going to be pressures put on you, deliberately, to make fast decisions. And you're going to have to do it. You won't have any choice. But it's going to be tough because sometimes-and it's just the odds, you can't fight it-sometimes you're going to make the wrong decisions. The consequences are going to be painful.”

“What's that mean, exactly? ”Titus wanted it spelled out, bad news in black and white.

“It means that after it's done, it's done. If you're going to second-guess yourself, you'll go crazy before this is over.”

“Odds are, people are going to die, you mean.”

“Think of it like this: This man is bringing you a sick situation. He created it. You didn't. He's going to force you to make choices where nobody wins. When that happens, remember who started it. You're just playing the hand that this guy's dealt you.”

Titus let this sober insight sink in. Norlin didn't rush him. Titus could smell the freshly cut brush around them, the stuff that had been carved out of the hillside for the construction site. He could smell the earth, an odor, a fragrance, really, that made him think of his dogs and of the weight of them as he'd put them into the hole he'd dug at the back of the orchard.

“Okay, ”Titus said, “I understand. ”And he did, but he didn't want to believe it. He wanted to believe that he could avoid the grim scenario that Norlin was predicting. He wanted to believe that in most cases that might be true, but he'd be able to avoid it. He'd figure out a way not to have to live through that kind of dark dilemma.

“I'm going to put you in touch with someone, ”Norlin said, standing. In the dim ambient light from the city in the distance, Titus watched him step off the concrete slab and go over to his car. He reached in and took out an oversize cell phone- encrypted, Titus assumed-and came back over to the slab.

“I've got to repeat this, ”Norlin said. “This is not the way the FBI would want it done. They'd say it was irresponsible. And normally I'd agree with them. But… ”He hesitated only slightly. “The truth is, if I were standing where you're standing right now, I'd want this guy to hear my story. And I'd want to know what he thinks about it. He may say, Go to the FBI. Then you should go, and you won't have to worry about whether you're doing the right thing or not. You can believe what he says.”

“But he may say something else, ”Titus said. “And if he does, I go with that. I believe him on that, too.”

“That's right.”

“Where is he?”

“I don't know. I'm getting ready to find out.”

“You have a lot of faith in him? ”It was a question, and an observation, and a concern.

“I worked with him at the CIA. He's been contract for a long time now. He's solid, like I told you. Does his best work out of the box.”

“Out of the box. I need a little more on that.”

“He's several points removed from any official equation. If he screws up, there's no blowback. He's one of a very few who know going into a situation that he's on his own. Guy like that, nobody owns his ass. And nobody helps him out of a bind, either. He's alone. He's given the edgiest operations, and when he succeeds, the intelligence community wins big. And silently, which is really the only way to win. But when guys like him go down, they go down alone. They just disappear. Forever.”

“Why do they do it?”

“Big, big money. And because they can't help themselves. They're addicted to the adrenaline. Or they have private demons that can only be satisfied by putting everything on the line every time. ”He shrugged. “Or for reasons that maybe only God understands.”

“But that's CIA work. Intelligence stuff. Why would he be interested in this?”

Norlin shrugged. “Big, big money. Or maybe he'll have other reasons.”

Titus considered this. “And you think this is the way to go, then, with this guy who's… good at working outside the box?”

“Look, Mr. Cain, I may not have the goods to advise you on what's happening here, but I can promise you this: This Alvaro doesn't even know there is a fucking box. Believe me, if I can find him, you're going to need this guy.”

Without saying any more, Norlin turned and walked away, past his car, onto the dirt track that led away from the construction site to the road below. Titus could hear him murmuring out in the dark.

Titus stood and twisted his shoulders to relieve the tension. He stared out over the valley. No city view here, but he could see a coil of Lake Austin, the surface of the water glazed in reflected light. He felt desolate. Isolated. Completely at a loss. The woods around the construction site were dense, and when he looked up toward the lighted sky, he could see the black circle of the trees surrounding him out of his peripheral vision. He stood that way a long time, long enough to lose track of time. Long enough to be startled by Norlin's voice.

“You're in luck, ”Norlin said, coming up out of the darkness.

Titus was surprised to see Norlin step up and stretch out his arm, handing the cell phone to him.

“He just happens to be close by, ”Norlin explained. “He's in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. His name's Garcia Burden.”

Titus took the heavy phone and put it to his ear in time to hear one ring and then:

“Titus Cain?”

“Yes, that's right.”

“Garcia Burden. Gil's told me the basic story. If this is what it seems to be, it's extraordinary.”

His voice was soft, a surprise, though Titus hadn't had any preconceptions. He had a bit of an accent, but Titus had no idea what it was. Garcia. No, it wasn't Hispanic, the accent, not like Alvaro's, anyway. It was something altogether different.

“‘If'? ”Titus asked. “Why wouldn't it be?”

“Who knows? ”Burden said cryptically. “But your visitor's not who he says he is. His scheme is complex and would require a lot of experience in this sort of thing. So I'm fairly sure he's using a bogus name, which means he's on all the international border watch lists. He must've entered the States illegally. That's significant and supports the ransom story.”

“How does it do that?”

“He's too cautious to have come in under a fake passport. Too much risk with the new technology now. This kind of man wouldn't enter the States under the sorts of conditions illegal entry would require for anything routine. This has probably been in the works for a long time. He's come in for the kill… so to speak.”

Burden seemed to be all over this.

“How long before he gets back to you?”

“He didn't say.”

“It'll be very soon. But he gave you no instructions?”

“No.”

“So there are no ‘rules’for you to offend yet.”

“I'm not supposed to contact any law enforcement agency.”

“Well, he would consider me in that category, so if he knew about this, you would've already offended him. This conversation would justify the first hit.”

The word hit struck Titus like a board to the side of the head. Jesus. It was stunning to hear that word in the context of reality, of his reality. But then, did he really believe Alvaro was going to start killing people if Titus didn't-what-follow instructions?

Burden responded to Titus's shocked silence.

“No, don't make that mistake, Mr. Cain, ”he said. “This man doesn't threaten. He probably even told you that himself. He's eagerly awaiting his first opportunity to show you how quickly he'll react to your failure to follow instructions.”