“Thankyou.” He told Luis, “When you get to Dulles Airport, you’ll make an asylum claim to the immigration officer, then you call Colonel Dombroski.”
Luis hesitated, then said, “I will discuss with my wife tonight.”
“There’s nothing to discuss, Luis.” He reminded him, “Your driver’s license is on a dead body.”
Luis stared off at the trees beyond the security wall, then said, “My wife’s parents have friends living in Miami.”
“Good. Lots of Venezuelans in Miami.” He reminded Luis, “You have my personal cell number. Call if there’s any problem at the embassy.”
Luis looked at him. “Sí.”
Brodie recited Dombroski’s personal cell phone number and told Luis to memorize it, and not to write it down or put it in his cell phone. He further advised, “Address him as General. He’ll buy you a beer.”
Luis forced a smile, no doubt thinking about leaving his country and heading into the unknown.
Brodie assured him, “Someday you can return.”
“Sí. Someday.”
Taylor returned with a plastic bag, which she handed to Luis. “Traveling money.”
Luis hesitated, then took the bag. “Gracias.”
Brodie said, “Don’t get robbed.”
Luis tapped the Glock under his jacket. “I am okay.”
Right. Luis had undergone his baptism of fire and he wasn’t afraid anymore. He was scared, which was normal and healthy, but he wasn’t afraid. Brodie recalled when he’d made that subtle transition himself.
Taylor gave Luis a hug and Brodie shook his hand, but neither man said anything. Taylor said, “Vaya con Dios.”
Luis got in the waiting taxi, and Brodie and Taylor watched as the cab went through the open security gate and disappeared on the dark street.
Taylor said, “We really had no right to drag him into this.”
“He volunteered.” He added, “When you’re out there someday, Maggie, in some fucked-up country—without me—you won’t hesitate to recruit a trustworthy local. Kids, pregnant women, Christian missionaries, Buddhist monks… anyone who can help you accomplish the mission.”
“The only part about that I liked was ‘without me.’?”
Brodie smiled. “I think this is our last assignment together.”
“You can bet money on it.”
“Which reminds me—how much did you give him?”
“Three thousand.”
“Bolívars?”
“Dollars, Brodie.”
“That’s more than I made tonight.”
“You didn’t get beat up.”
“I got shot at,” he reminded her.
“Me too. Thanks to you.”
