Choke Point

The exchange is made outside the Jet Center. Brower arrives with only his two prisoners, Grace and Dulwich. He can’t be seen making such a trade, but possesses the authority to release them.

The phone call leading up to the dawn exchange was not easy sledding. Pushed by Brower, Knox admitted a lack of hard evidence but informed the man that Sonia possessed Kreiger’s hard drives. Something has changed between that call and now, two hours later. Perhaps Kreiger has been arrested and is already talking. Whatever it is, Brower wears his fatigue well.

“Christ!” Brower says, seeing Fahiz’s condition.

“We took a tram for half a block,” Knox says, indicating the car that looks as if it shouldn’t run. “The airbags had previously engaged.”

Fahiz says, with difficulty, “You arrest me, you will anger much of Oud-West.”

“Thank you for that input,” Brower says. He replaces the shoelaces that bind the wrists of Fahiz’s bizarrely twisted arms with a set of handcuffs. “That has got to hurt.”

“I feel nothing,” Fahiz says.

Knox pats him firmly on the dislocated shoulder, causing him inordinate pain. “A real soldier, this one.”

“There is money. Much money.” Fahiz addresses both men. “Besides, you have nothing.”

“We have Gerhardt Kreiger,” Knox corrects, feeling no shame in giving up the man. “It’s going to come down to who gets in front of this, eh, Brower?”

“Just so. Always the same.”

“To hell with all of you!”

Brower makes sure to use the man’s arms while putting him into the backseat of the unmarked car.

“There will be warrants for your arrest,” Brower says. “I wouldn’t return to the Netherlands for some time.”

“I’ll miss it,” Knox says. “I like it here.”

“If you expect me to thank you, that’s not going to happen. You’ve left me a mess to clean up.”

“I have limited expectations,” Knox says. “I’m pretty low maintenance.”

Brower’s had enough. He circles the car and drives off.

Dulwich collects a wheelchair from inside the Jet Center and together the men wheel Grace though the automatic doors. Nothing is said among the three; barely a word is spoken. A first-aid kit is provided and Grace tends to Knox’s shoulder wound. The hernia will have to wait.

Dulwich disappears into the business center, spending time on the computer and phone. His eyes find Grace and Knox from time to time, like a school principal.

The flight team arrives. The pilot gives Knox a disapproving look. Grace doesn’t ask. But she can read Knox’s mind, as it turns out.

“She tried to get us killed,” Grace reminds him.

“There is that.” He doesn’t think of himself as a particularly forgiving man, but he has let that go easily enough. He keeps seeing the parts he wants to see, remembering the moments he wants to remember.

She might have told him something encouraging, but she doesn’t try. This is what they do. Who they are.

Knox falls asleep waiting to board the plane, the pilot taking an inordinate amount of time preparing and filing the flight plan.

Now strapped in one of the eight seats, he nods off again.

He’s forgotten to ask where they’re headed.