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ask me to apologize for not forgetting.”
    Hort nodded, his expression grave. “That seems fair.”
    Ben walked over to the chair opposite Hort, pulled it away from the table, and sat. He knew Hort would read it as a concession, but he didn’t care. He’d never felt so wrung out. His ribs ached, he’d only half slept since all this shit had started, and much as he hated to admit it, he was terrified Hort would leave as suddenly as he’d materialized. It was a ridiculous fear, but he couldn’t shake it no matter how much he blustered.
    “How’d you find me?” he said quietly.
    Hort nodded, as though expecting the question. “Pressure from the Australians. You’re lucky you killed one of theirs. If it had been a local, they’d have just dumped you here and no one would ever have heard from you again.”
    Ben felt something sink in his chest. He realized he’d still been hoping the cops had lied to him. The hope suddenly felt stupid, and he knew he just hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself, admit what he’d done.
    “The guy was a sailor?” he said.
    “Royal Marine, yeah.”
    He’d known as much already, but somehow having Hort confirm it eliminated Ben’s ability to deal with the guy as an abstraction. Having this little window opened on the guy’s humanity made part of Ben want to push it open further, but he knew better. Still, even the speculation was no picnic. Had he been married? He’d been pretty young, so maybe not. And Ben hadn’t seen a ring, though he supposed the guy might have removed one before a night of carousing on Burgos Street. Regardless, he would have had parents. Maybe brothers or sisters. He thought of Katie, his younger sister, who’d died in a car accident as a high school junior, and what her death had done to his family. The thought that he probably had caused something similar to someone else’s family because he was too sullen to just walk away from some woofing was suddenly making him feel sick. Not to mention the guy himself was never coming back, either.
    “Anyway,” Hort said, “the Aussies made local law enforcement go to all the hotels in Makati, asking whether there was a guest who was supposed to check out but who’d ghosted off instead. It didn’t take them long to find the right hotel, the right guest, to have the room safe opened, to check the guest’s passport. When they found out you were American, they contacted the U.S. embassy. When the embassy realized who you were, they contacted JSOC. And here I am.”
    It made sense. But it answered only how Hort had found him, not why. He knew he should ask, but he almost didn’t care. He had to fight the urge to blurt out,
Please, just get me out of here …
    He took a breath and said, “All right, you want something from me.”
    Hort pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and used it to mop the moisture off his face and scalp. “You’re a little more cynical than the last time I saw you.”
    “I wonder why that would be.”
    “You want me to just leave you here? I could, you know. The Australians want to extradite you. All I have to do is step aside and let it happen.”
    Somehow, hearing the threat out loud eased Ben’s mind a little. If Hort were really going to leave, he would’ve just done it. And obviously, he hadn’t come all this way just to say hello.
    “Maybe your brother could help you,” Hort said. “Good to have a lawyer in the family when you’ve been charged with murder. And the girl, Sarah Hosseini. Two smart lawyers. Strange to think of them protecting you instead of you protecting them, but there you have it.”
    Hort had no way of knowing what had happened between Sarah and Ben—the way their distrust had alchemized to passion, maybe to even more. He was fishing on that one.
    “Do they need protection?” Ben asked, his voice low, his tone casual.
    There was a pause. Hort said, “No.”
    Ben nodded, not exactly reassured. Alex and Sarah still knew a lot about Obsidian and about