Page 49 of The Big Fix

He was a Black man in his fifties, but the only way I could tell we were the same age was the slight graying at his temples. The Hugo Boss suit that fit him like a glove made me embarrassed of how bad I looked. I’d tried to clean up, but there was no hiding exhaustion.

“I swear, all you guys that didn’t retire aren’t aging. What’s up with that?”

“Oh, we’re all aging, believe me,” Daly said, chuckling. “Come take a seat. You’re right on time.”

“The Army in me,” I said.

“Yes, of course.”

I knew he could relate. Mason Daly had served his country with distinction, doing three tours in Afghanistan before migrating his career to the Foreign Service.

“Ms. Khoo, please have a seat,” he said, then looked over at Clark. “And you as well, Ms. Clark.”

I turned to Jing, and she gave me a reassuring smile.

“All right,” Daly said, taking a breath. “Now, what are you drinking?” he asked, walking to a cabinet.

“Nothing,” I told him.

He looked to Jing.

“Oh, no, thank you, Ambassador,” she said graciously.

He removed a bottle of Irish whiskey and two glasses, giving each two fingers, and then returned to the desk, passed one to Clark, and stood next to her. “You’re making both our lives difficult at the moment, Colonel.”

“That wasn’t at all my intention,” I assured him.

Clark drained her glass, returned it to the cabinet, and spun around to look at me. “What is your intention, Colonel?”

“To find my colleague, nothing more. I promise I’m not here to rock the boat.”

She scoffed. “Colonel, you blew up the boats. Plural.”

“They were chasing us,” Jing chimed in, “not the other way around.”

“So you’re just bystanders,” Clark said to Jing. “That’s your assertion?”

“My assertion is we’re here to find Owen Moss, end of story.”

Clark stared at her, but when Jing didn’t flinch, Clark returned her gaze to me. “What will it take to get you out of Thailand, Colonel?”

“Again,” I said, trying for civil, “my colleague, Chief Clark.”

She seemed to internalize that, then turned to Daly, who crossed the floor after draining his glass and took a seat beside me.

“Let’s get down to business.” Daly’s demeanor quickly changed from pleasant gentleman to professional ambassador.

“What exactly can I do for you?” I asked him.

“Colonel—”

“Why does everyone keep calling me that? I’m retired.”

“Perhaps it’s because you’re still acting like your former self,” he said coldly. “You’re a long way from your base of operations in Chicago. I wasn’t aware your business extended past US shores.” Daly stared at me, looking for a crack in my armor, a way in. Like that could ever happen.

“I go where the work takes me,” I said simply, and if this was anyone but the ambassador, Jing would have groaned. She always gave me such crap when I gave platitudes instead of real, thoughtful answers.

“And now that Captain Hunt has been recalled, may I ask who else is working with you? I checked on your men at Torus, and they appear to all be stateside.”