Page 4 of Casualties of War
“Americaisn’t at war with Vistaria,” Adán said, the bitterness pulling at his mouth.
Stuart dropped his hand and raised his brow instead. “That hit a button, didn’t it?”
“Of course it fucking did,” Adán growled. “The President should have announced it the moment Nicolás Escobedo got the silver mine back. He virtually promised Nick he would. It’s been nearly a week and he has donenothing.”
“I wouldn’tmention that when the FBI question you,” Stuart replied. Voices sounded beyond the tent and he straightened. “Be nice, Adán.”
“I’m always nice,” Adán shot back. Of course he was. It was part of the job.
The suit who stepped into the tent wore a flack vest over his dress shirt and still wore his tie. He had a clipboard in his hand and by rights, he should have introduced himself and got on withthe interview.
Instead, he stuck his hand out. “Jim Cook, FBI L.A. Field Office. It’s good to meet you.”
Adán shook his hand and gave him his best disarming smile. The man was a fan, even though he contained himself to the simple hand shake. It gave Adán an advantage.
Cook asked him to describe what had happened. Adán went through it slowly, omitting nothing. He finished with: “This explosion…itmust be something to do with the Vistarian Insurrectos, although I can’t figure outwhat. Serrano’s wife and the photographer both hightailed it out of there as if they knew what was coming.”
“Uh-huh,” Cook said non-committally. “Let me run through it once more.” He took Adán through from the top, repeating what Adán had told him and asking questions. “You were there for an hour before the explosion,”Cook finished. “Did you see anything odd or out of place?”
“You mean, besides the wife of a rebel leader getting cozy with the enemy?” Adán asked.
“Besides that,” Cook said, his tone neutral.
Over Cook’s shoulder, Stuart shook his head. It was a warning.
Adán held his teeth together. When he thought he could speak civilly, he said, “No, nothing else.”
Cook nodded. “One more time, Mr. Caballero.”
Adán hid his sigh.
Cook took him through the sequence of the evening five more times, each time stopping in different places to ask questions that seemed meaningless and trivial.
“Yes, I saw lots of faces I recognized,” Adán replied to one stupid question. “I have a wide circle of friends and colleagues and contacts. The Vice President himself asked me to attend.”
“The Vice President of thehospital?”
“Of the United States.” Adán hid his irritation.
Cook considered that. “We will have to ask you to run through mugshots for us.”
“Tonight?” Adán said.
“In the next few days before your memory fades,” Cook said, getting to his feet.
“Can I go home now?” Adán asked him.
“I’ll check in with my coordinator and see how he feels about that,” Cook replied.
Adán sighed as Cook movedout of the tent once more. “He isn’t even a little interested in the Vistaria connection.”
Stuart took Cook’s chair. “It is possible the connection is only in your own mind. I know it’s your family caught up in the war down there. Only, the Vistarian civil war barely blips the radar compared to other global conflicts America worries about. Most Americans have a hard time even pointing to Vistariaon a map.”
“I know that,” Adán replied. “Only, theremustbe a connection. Otherwise, Serrano’s wife and a photographer grabbing a revealing photo is just a coincidence.”
“Maybe it is.”
“It’s too unlikely to be a coincidence.”
