"OK," Jack said, hands up and spread. "Let's focus. We need to e-mail him back. Try to meet up with him somewhere."
"What if I don't want to? What if I respect Abir's wishes to live life as a gay American?"
"It's more than that, D. So much more... you don't even know. There are radical groups out there that will want nothing more than to exploit this... manipulate it for their own gains... further deteriorate relations between the U.S. and the Middle East. Abir could also be in danger."
Demarco, still lightheaded from the impromptu kiss, weighed Jack's words. "If I cooperate, will you promise me that Abir doesn't have to go back to his father... or that country... or that way of life?"
"Abir's father will want him returned unharmed. I have to protect the U.S and its relations. I'm a good agent, Demarco. You wouldn't want me to fail at that, would you?"
"But as a gay man... I am assuming that youaregay."
Jack looked at him, and for the first time, Demarco saw a brief vulnerability resonating behind the official guise. "I am," he said.
"Then how could you live with yourself sending that poor kid back to a country where being homosexual is a crime?"
"He's a member of the royal family, Demarco. It's a different world."
"His father had his boyfriend beheaded."
"He told you that?"
Demarco nodded.
"I'm not sure it's true."
"But you don't know that it isn't."
Jack didn't answer.
"If I agree to help you find him... can we help him? Can we get him an immigration lawyer... maybe a visa, or in an American college, or something that would establish his residence here?"
"It's not—" Jack sighed, struggling for the right word, "—protocol."
"I could delete the e-mail." Demarco circled his forefinger over the keyboard, far from intimidating.
"We would dig it up..." said Jack. "...pretend that we were you... entice him out of hiding... and just get the ball rolling another way. "
"That's a little invasive, don't you think? What if you're endangering him as a result?"
"It's nothing personal, D. National security is paramount regardless of who is involved."
Demarco studied Jack's firm expression—intoxicated by the rugged intensity, yet sympathetic to the underlying plea for assistance in those expressive eyes. "I get it, Jack. We're all patriots here."
"So, you'll do it?"
Demarco said nothing, just continued to barter with his silence.
Jack shrugged. "I can't promise anything," he said. "But I'll make some calls."
Demarco smiled. "OK. I accept that... and I'll answer his e-mail... but only if you kiss me like that again."
6
Demarco sat in front of his laptop on the coffee table, fingers ready to type.
"You should say that you want to meet him in a safe place, that you can bring him some money if he needs it." Jack was on the couch next to him.
"I'm not going to lie to him, Jack."
