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“He knows I was coming—he’s never kept me waiting for this long,” Nelson comments over lunch. He’s barely able to sit for the meal, pacing, looking out of the windows at the windswept lake.
“Maybe he’s just busy. A guy like him’s gotta prioritize, right?” But Argent knows what Nelson is thinking. Divan is punishing him for showing up without Connor Lassiter. Well, thinks Argent, if hanging here is punishment, then make me suffer!
Divan finally arrives later that day by seaplane. Argent watches through a window as the small craft pulls up to the simple wooden dock that extends from the base of the bluff. Like the outward appearance of the cabin, the plane is neither ostentatious nor extreme. It’s similar to other seaplanes Argent has seen traversing the lake. Apparently the only conspicuous show of extravagance Divan allows himself is the fleet of cars, which he keeps parked in an underground garage—but even then, they’re all Porsches, playing into his cover story.
Argent hurries off to brush his hair and change into some of the fresh clothes that have been supplied for him—dark slacks and starched button-down shirts. Not his style, but maybe his style needs some changing.
He returns to find himself late for Divan’s entrance. Nelson stands in the grand living room already talking to him. The man has jet-black hair, a toned physique, and wears an expensive silk suit that seems not to have a single wrinkle from his travels. He is impressive, and Argent now wishes he’d had the good sense to put on a tie.
“Ah,” says Divan when he sees him, “this must be the young man you’ve been telling me about.” Like most of his employees, there is something European in his accent that’s not easy to place, although Divan’s English is much better.
“Y . . . you’ve been talking about me?” Argent doesn’t want to imagine what Nelson might have said. Divan holds out his hand to Argent, and Argent reaches out his own to shake—but Divan shifts his hand at the last instant, and Argent grabs it wrong, making the handshake awkward, and making Argent somehow feel less than worthy of the greeting. Divan does not seem like a man who does anything by mistake, and Argent wonders if Divan created the awkward grasp intentionally to keep him off-balance.
“I understand you helped to catch several AWOLs.”
“Yes, sir,” Argent says. “Actually, I didn’t help catch them, I caught them, period.” He glances at Nelson almost involuntarily, and Nelson gives him a lukewarm no comment sort of gaze.
“I’m learning quickly,” Argent says, and, assessing that some brown-nosing might be in order, he adds, “I’ve got a good teacher.”
“The best,” Divan says, nodding toward Nelson. “Even if the Akron AWOL still eludes him.” Divan takes a moment to let that sink in, and to size them both up. Then he says to Nelson, “Can I assume there’s a story to the wounds on the left half of your face, and the right half of the boy’s?”
“Two different stories,” Argent chimes in, “but Connor Lassiter plays into both of them.”
Nelson cracks his neck. Argent suspects that if Divan were not here, Nelson would tranq him for talking out of turn. “The only story that Divan needs to hear,” says Nelson, “is the one about your sister’s tracking chip.”
Divan smiles. “It sounds like a story worth hearing.”
But apparently he has no interest in hearing it now. Instead he goes off to freshen up for dinner, leaving Argent alone with Nelson. Argent braces for some sort of verbal abuse.
“That went well, right?” says Argent. He figures Nelson will ignore him at best, but instead Nelson smiles.
“It will only get better.”
And although Argent can deal with Nelson’s frowns and reprimands, he finds Nelson’s smile as disconcerting as his botched handshake with Divan.
• • •
For dinner there are lamb chops as large as rib eye steaks.
“Neoteny lamb,” Divan explains, “genetically altered to grow as large as sheep while maintaining their early characteristics. The meat is flavorful and tender because although the lambs grow, they don’t grow up.” He digs a knife into a bloody-rare filet. “Much the opposite of your friend Lev,” he says to Nelson. “Who I understand will age but not grow.”
The mention of Lev’s name has the desired effect. Nelson becomes stiff and prickly. Argent takes some pleasure in seeing Nelson under someone else’s thumb.
“After I capture Lassiter,” Nelson says, “I intend to find Lev Calder as well.”
“One prize at a time, Jasper.”
Argent waits to be asked about the tracking chip. He has resolved not to volunteer the information until he’s asked, and even then he won’t give it up without getting something substantial in return. After all, it’s his only bargaining chip. They don’t ask him at dinner, though. Not Divan, not Nelson. Then, after a creamy desert that Argent can’t pronounce, Divan goes off with Nelson to discuss business.
“We’ll talk later,” Divan tells Argent. “Until then, feel free to entertain yourself. Have you discovered the game room?”
“It’s like my second home.”
Divan seems pleased. “It’s there for you to enjoy. I built it for my nephews, but they do not visit.” And then a heavy sigh. “Alas, my family and I are a bit estranged.”
“Because of . . . what you do?” Argent can’t help but ask.
“No. Because of what I choose not to do. I’ve taken a path of greater integrity than they would prefer.” And although Argent can’t imagine what could possibly have less integrity than Divan’s current profession, he explains no further, and Nelson’s glare makes it clear it’s better not to ask.
