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“Yes. Hypothetically.”

Noah seemed to catch his breath. “You need to be very careful here, Kate.”

“I’m trying to be careful.”

“It doesn’t matter how good your intentions are. Even if you think it’s the only way to save Patrick’s life, you can’t just hand over code from Buck Technologies.”

“I didn’t say I was handing over anything.”

“I hope you’re not even thinking about it, hypothetically or otherwise. If you give Patrick’s kidnappers code that isn’t classified, that’s corporate espionage. One to five years. If you deliver code thatisclassified, that’s ten years. And it gets worse, depending on who the kidnappers are. If they’re a terrorist organization, tack on violations of the Patriot Act. If they’re a foreign government, you could be talking treason—the death penalty.”

“Wait. Who said anything about a foreign government?”

He didn’t respond, but Kate wasn’t about to let it go.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about this, Noah, so don’t go silent on me. You and the whole Department of Justice are so sure Sandra Levy stole code from Buck Technologies. But you said it yourself: the FBI moved in and arrested her too soon for prosecutors to have the evidence they needed to prove at trial that she actually stole anything. Right?”

He seemed reluctant to answer, not because he hadn’t told her, but perhaps because he regretted having told her too much.

“Right,Noah?”

“Yes. That’s right.”

“What if she didn’t actually steal anything? Isn’t it at least possible that Patrick’s kidnappers are demanding Buck code as ransom in order to get their hands on the very thing theydidn’tget from Sandra Levy?”

Noah paused, and even in the dim glow of residential streetlights at night, Kate could see that her words had him thinking.

“It would depend on what code they’re asking for,” he said.

“They haven’t said. But that’ll change soon. If I’m going to negotiate for code, I need to know what code I’m talking about. I need clearance.”

“Even if you get clearance, you’re not going to be able to hand over classified code in order to save Patrick.”

“I’m not asking for permission to hand it over. I know I’m in an impossible situation here. But I need the ability to talk a good bluff. And I need you to help me.”

Noah took a deep breath, but he seemed to be coming around a little, perhaps enough to at least try and help her. “This is a really big request, Kate.”

“I know.”

“No, I mean this isreallybig.”

“I understand. But if you come through for me, I’ll bring you a pizza. I’ll bet what’s-her-name doesn’t even know you actuallylikeanchovies.”

He forced a little smile, but it didn’t hide the nervousness. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Chapter 40

In a port lined with countless ocean freighters, some of them longer than soccer fields, the MVAli Beywas a 100,000-ton rust bucket. And it appeared to be deserted.

Cargo of every description floats into Buenaventura from China and elsewhere, much of it in twenty- and forty-foot containers stacked like giant Lego blocks, eight to ten units high, on the main deck. Patrick guessed the MVAli Beycarried thousands of units when fully loaded. From the looks of things, however, this old ship hadn’t carried anything in ages. Vessels at nearby berths showed signs of life—lights on inside the bridge, glowing orange dots from the lit cigarettes of bored crew members on deck, and the white-hot spark and flare of welders doing repair work late into the night. The MVAli Beywas completely dark, no sign of a crew. Weeds had sprouted from crevices on the main deck, which was littered with debris. Patrick and Olga minded their step in the glow of a full moon, as they walked along the ship’s portside rail.

“It’s like a ghost ship,” said Olga.

Their escape plan—hopping a freighter at the port—had been hatched on the run from the Hostage Hotel. Olga had put the odds at fifty-fifty that going to the police would put them in the hands of a corrupt cop friendly to the kidnappers. They had no passports or identification, so the airport was no option. All they had was the cash Olga had plied from the dead men’s pockets, which could buy them a spot on a freighter out of Colombia. The destination didn’t matter.

A breeze was blowing across the harbor, and a slight shift in direction brought a hint of smoke from the ship’s stern. Patrick and Olga both noticed it.

“Smells like charcoal,” he said.

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