“Enough for you to complete the assignment. You’ll visit the minimum-security prison camp near Joyner. You’ll be given a script, as usual.”
That doesn’t answer the question. The script is standard, and so is the lack of detail beyond that. “Is Enzo in trouble?”
“No.”
“Is Enzo in witness protection?”
“No.”
“Is Enzo?—”
“How about you stop saying his name?” He hits his blinker to turn into the grocery store parking lot. “I trust you’re not wearing a wire, and I’ve already scanned the truck for bugs, but I don’t like taking chances.”
Jesus Christ. I never even saw him check for listening devices. What a way to live. “There’s really nothing more you can tell me right now?”
“Only this.” He doesn’t speak as he eases us into a parking spot. Killing the engine, he turns in his seat and swivels those icy blue eyes toward me. “If you take this assignment, the people I work for would be very grateful. Extremely grateful.”
“Okay.” The money is nice, but that’s nothing new. “How much are we talking?”
He names a figure that would otherwise boggle my mind. “And a bonus,” he adds, “if Enzo agrees to be part of our program.”
“Program?” It’s a rare clue that these tasks I’ve been doing for Noah are part of something much bigger. “What sort of?—?”
“No.” There’s another long pause. “As I was saying, my employers have resources most people can only dream of. Not just monetary resources. The ability to find people.”
The back of my neck starts to tingle. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” he says, “that I understand you’ve been looking for someone.”
The breath leaves my lungs.
My father.
He means my father. “I?—”
“There’s no guarantee they could locate your dad,” he says. “I need to be clear about that up front. This isn’t a case where they already have the information you’re looking for and they’re withholding it as some sort of blackmail or bribe. That’s not what this is about.”
“What is it about?” My mind won’t stop spinning, my thoughts rolling over each other like rocks in a tumbler.
“It’s simple,” Noah says. “You have a brief conversation with your old friend Mr. Silva. You’re even permitted to improvise beyond the script. To catch up with your pal, just like you might if you paid him a regular visit.”
My heart hits the walls of my chest. “I’m listening.”
“You’ll be paid for your time, plus a generous bonus for success. But regardless of what Mr. Silva chooses to do, my employer will assist you in finding your father.”
I breathe in and out, scarcely daring to hope this could happen. Would Hazel understand? What if it’s just this one time?
“I’d like to tell Hazel,” I say. “To ask if?—”
“No. I’m sorry, but you know the work we do is strictly confidential.”
“What sort of work is it again?”
“Luke,” he says curtly, dodging the question. “Are you in or are you out?”
“Can I have overnight to think about it?”
“No.”
