Fault Line

Alex didn't answer. It took Ben a second to realize his little brother had choked up.

After a moment, Alex said, “Thanks.”

Ben squeezed his shoulder and didn't say anything. He might have felt a little choked-up himself.

35 A BREAK IN THE ROUTINE

Sarah got to Ritual Coffee at six-thirty, a little after sunup. She hadn't been there since everything had happened, and should have been happy to be back to her routine. But rather than being a comfort, something about it felt… stale.

Going back to the office had been weird. Osborne was missing. Everybody was talking about it. She'd ducked into Alex's office and asked what he thought was going on. He told her, “I think it was a punishment to Osborne, and a warning to us.”

“You don't think we should say anything?”

“I think we'd be crazy to say anything.”

“What does your brother say?”

“The same.”

She thought she should have been scared, but instead she felt depressed. She wanted to tell him she was sorry about what had happened with Ben. It ought to have seemed inconsequential after everything else, but it didn't. But maybe mentioning it would make things awkward, more awkward than they already were. So she'd nodded and left Alex's office, and they'd managed to avoid each other since.

She walked inside and there was Gabe behind the counter, just like every morning. “Hey, Sarah,” he said. “Missed you the last few days.”

“Yeah, I had some stuff going on.”

“Hope it's all sorted out now.”

“I think it is, yeah.”

“Cool. The usual?”

She sighed. “The usual.”

“Make it two,” a voice said from behind her.

She spun around, already knowing.

“What are you doing here?” she said.

Ben said, “I wanted to see you.”

“All right. You've seen me. Now you can go.”

Ben handed some money to Gabe.

“I can pay for my own coffee,” she said.

“You can get the next one.”

She shook her head. She wanted to be angry. And she was-but more at herself now, for being excited to see him, than for anything else.

“Can we just talk?” he said. “I've been waiting out there for a half hour, freezing my ass off. I could really use a coffee. What did I just order, anyway?”

“A Black Eye.”

“Sounds dangerous. What is it?”

“A cup of coffee with two shots of espresso.”

“Damn, you drink one of these every day? I'd expect one a week would be enough.”

Now he's charming, she thought. Goddamn him.

They moved down to the end of the counter to wait for the coffees. “I didn't get to thank you for what you did the other day,” Ben said. “You should have run, but still. That took a lot of guts.”

“I wasn't even thinking.”

“Well, that much was obvious.”

She didn't answer.

He said, “What is it?”

She looked away. After a moment, she said, “I should do something.”

“What?”

“Go public. Contact the blogs. Tell them what I know.”

“What do you know?”

“Cut it out. I know a lot. And you know it.”

He gave her a gentle smile, utterly unlike the smirk he wore when he wanted to get a rise out of her. “Yeah, you know some things. But you don't think my unit's ever dealt with a public mess before? Granted, this is a bad one, but there've been others. And I can tell you, right now, while we're drinking our Black Eyes… records are being destroyed, aliases changed, alibis established… It's practically a routine. These people know how to protect themselves, Sarah. They're good at it. Bigger players than you and I have tried to take them down, and so far they're still in business.”

“And that makes you happy?”

“It doesn't make me feel one way or the other. It's just the way it is. Maybe information wants to be free, but freedom-freedom wants a unit like mine.”

“You want to believe that.”

He shook his head, and for a moment she thought he looked unaccountably sad.

“Look,” he said. “At the moment, we've got a delicate balance going. I think Hort meant it when he said he was standing down.”

“What about Osborne?”

“You know what happened to him.”

“And it could happen to me, right?”

“If you give Hort a reason, yeah, it could.”

“Are you threatening me?”

The sadness crossed his face again. “No. I don't want you to be afraid of me. That's the last thing I want.”

She looked away. She knew he was right. She knew what the government could get away with-hell, she'd been watching it happen for years. Going public, she had to admit, was more about her own dignity than effecting any real change.

And there was another reason for her reluctance. She didn't want to hurt Ben. More than any other, that reason shamed her, and the shame was making her angry.

“Yeah, well, you've got a fu

She looked away. After a moment, she glanced back at him. It looked like he was trying not to smile. Maybe it was the reference to the hotel room. She had to admit, it was hard to stop thinking about it.

“You really want me to grovel, don't you?” he said.

She thought for a moment. “Don't you think you should?”

His expression grew serious. “Look,” he said, “what happened the other night… it couldn't have happened at a worse time for me. And it couldn't have been a better thing.”

“That's it?”

“I don't know. I'm not used to groveling.”

Now she was the one trying not to smile. “I think you should practice.”

“Okay, how about this? I want to see you again.”

She shook her head. “How's that going to work? Everything you stand for, I abhor.”

He glanced away and shook his head. She realized she'd been expecting one of his patented snappy answers, and the fact that he didn't have one, or didn't want to offer one, suddenly fascinated her.

“I mean, I don't even know where you live,” she said. “Where do you live? Do you live somewhere?”

“I move around a lot. But… I was thinking about spending some time in San Francisco for a while. Closer to home.”

“Yeah? How long?”

“I don't know. How long could you stand me?”

“I'm not sure.”

“It wouldn't be right away, necessarily. I wanted to stop in Manila first. Make sure my daughter knows she has a father. But after that. If you want.”

She didn't answer. She wasn't sure what was happening. She felt like she wasn't keeping up.

Their coffees came. She put milk and sugar in hers. Ben took a sip. “Hooah,” he said. “Is this how you bill all those hours?”

She shook her head. “I don't know how I do it.”

He looked at her. “It's not really you, is it?”

“I don't know.”

“What do you want to do instead?”

She sipped her coffee. “I'm working on that.”

He shrugged. “Take some time off. Travel. Figure things out.”

“You make it sound simple.”

“It is.”

“Oh, really?” she said. “Is that why you're going to Manila?”

“I have a few things to figure out, yeah.”

“Like?”

His eyes narrowed, and she wondered whether she was pushing too hard. But damned if she was going to let him talk down to her.

“Like what the hell happened this week,” he said, gravel in his voice. “Like whether I'm one of the good guys, like I always thought.”

She looked at him. “Well, why don't you just admit that, instead of acting like the advice is just for me?”

His expression softened. “I'm not used to admitting things. It's like groveling. But I'm willing to learn.”

She couldn't help smiling. They were quiet for a moment.

“You were right,” she said. “Afterward, it seemed like a dream. The rest of it, too.”

He nodded. “That's the way it works.”

“And then you showed up here. Am I dreaming again?”

“You're not dreaming.”