Page 91 of Red Line

They drove in silence down the road, and just because he felt like it, maybe to test the waters, Nomad reached for Red’s hand. They weren’t in character here, so he would know her genuine reaction.

When Red turned her hand to lace their fingers, something eased in his body. “You look like you're plotting,” Nomad said as they continued down the palm-tree-lined street.

“I was thinking about which techniques for following these women would be applicable in the Medina. You’ve been there. You know what we’re facing.”

“It’s disorienting. There are a thousand ways to slip out of sight. If I was being tracked, it’s where I’d want to be. Doing the tracking, it’s going to test my skills.”

“Is this your first time in Marrakech?” she asked.

“I was here as a little kid. I thought it was a storybook come to life—the colors and all the people. I remember a big square with men playing music. They had monkeys, but my mom wouldn’t let my brother or me near them. She was afraid they’d bite us. Then, there were the snake charmers with their fake cobras set out for tourist pictures and their little garden snakes to put on the tourists’ heads. We’d go up on the rooftops and look down at the activity at night, the fire dancers, and those men playing thegimbri.”

“The string instrument where the man wears the hat tassel and spins it round and round? Okay, that’s one thing I don’t like. They make me seasick.” And when she said that, Red lifted the back of his hand to her lips and pressed a kiss there that felt like gratitude. Nomad wondered if she remembered that he’d been holding her as they went out to sea during her rescue.

He didn’t ask.

He let her have the moment, and then she settled their linked hands on her lap. “I like to sit up on the rooftop and have a drink, watching the sun go down. All that hustle and bustle going on below. I like feeling like I’m floating above the fray. But it sounds like you enjoyed the fray.”

“Sometimes. So you’re the spook, and I am not. What conclusions did you reach about the best ways to follow our rabbits?”

“With just the two of us. We have the advantage of having control of her phone and the DARPA micro-tracker on the ring. We still need to figure out why the friends are here getting involved. Are they staying at Elena’s hotel?”

“Yes.”

“It’ll be harder to do handoffs without blowing our cover, especially with your height. The clothing, in my case, will help. I can keep changing the colors of my scarves. No makeup. Present as a generic Moroccan woman in the market. What’s in our favoris that Elena thinks she ditched me. She’ll be focused on the task at hand, figuring out how the billionaire wants to make the exchange.”

“I think that Kamal’s eccentricities are a challenge for Elena. She wanted a clean pass.”

“Right, and that’s also to our advantage. Don’t sleep on the idea of the modern distaste for inconvenience.”

“I think I’m going to need more there.” He slid across three lanes of tightly packed traffic to make his next turn.

“Have you tried to tell anyone a story lately?” Red asked.

“In general, I’m not a storytelling guy.”

“Fair. Well, this is observational, anyway. Many people get their information in sips, from starter plates instead of whole meals. Memes and social media posts are all synthesized down for the biggest dopamine hit in the shortest amount of time. If you don’t like it, scroll on by. If you really don’t like it, block and move on. It’s too much work to try to understand a divergent opinion. People are overstimulated and overworked, and they just want to get through their day feeling somewhat okay in their skin. Again, observational.”

“Observational.”

“I’ve been doing my work for a while now. I was recruited in college and graduated from my university to The Farm. And in that time, I have to tell you, it’s getting harder for me to find people willing to build a relationship and deepen—” Red’s mouth pulled down, and Nomad was surprised to find her chin wobbling.

He waited for her to decide what came next.

“I’m thinking of an asset who just died. He had been an exception. He wanted our connection for friendship, and I had wanted the connection for exploitation.” She took a minute to steady her emotions. “I very much enjoyed our conversations. My feelings for him were genuine.” She exhaled. “He was onlyin harm’s way because I created that connection. He’s dead because I had an agenda.” She turned to the window and said so softly that Nomad almost didn’t catch it, “It’s getting harder and harder to be okay with all that. Though, I get that my work has a bigger meaning.”

Nomad understood. He squeezed her hand a little tighter.

Red swallowed loudly, sighed, and looked out the window, probably trying to find some privacy. After a moment, she took up the narrative again. “So if something is inconvenient to them, doesn’t fit their narrowed worldview, or interrupts their life flow, it’s ignored. Connection-making is harder. That’s the downside. I’ve found that sometimes, this makes my job easier. Inconvenience is a powerful tool. And I’ve only seen it become that much stronger with time as algorithms are honed and people are popping their dopamine like popcorn at the theater.”

“You were talking about people’s stories …” Nomad squeezed Red’s hand and then released. This swarm of motorbikes required two hands on the wheel, and it had been a while since he’d driven on the left-hand side.

“I can’t tell a whole story with nuance and descriptors without eyes sliding toward the activity they want to do. Usually, a phone. Sometimes, it’s a weight shifted to the foot closest to the door.”

“It could be that you’re a shit storyteller.” He stole a glance her way so she could see his smile was teasing.

“Again, fair. I think my mother’s Irish lineage is pronounced in my DNA because I enjoy the oral tradition of storytelling. I’m an epic-sagas gal more than a short story enthusiast.”

He reached for her again, and her hand was right there, open and waiting. “Side characters, red herrings, descriptions, and backstory?”

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