Page 33 of What is Lost

“Nothing. Bad habit.”Stop. You’re not auditioning to be Ryan Reynolds’ stunt double. “Were you able to get ahold of what I asked for?”

“The Glock 19 and that rifle? Yes.” Ustinov nodded. “With plenty of ammunition, though not enough to…how do you say it? Swamp you?”

John was getting used to the way Ustinov mangled idioms. “Bog me down.”

“That, yes. You will likely have to travel on foot once you are within the Wakhan.”

“What about me?” Davila asked.

“Ah, yes.” Clasping his hands together, Ustinov looked like a maître-de apologizing for not having someone’s favorite table. “I am afraid you were...an add-on? Is that correct? I only had time to procure a Kalashnikov for you, Mr. King.”

“No sidearm?”

“I’m afraid not, no.”

“Hey, look on the bright side,” John said. “You won’t have trouble finding extra ammo.”

Davila’s scowl only deepened. “How about it’d be nice if we didn’t have to go the trouble of findinganyextra ammo?”

“And who said you weren’t a doughnut kind of guy?”

“Your rifle,” Ustinov put in quickly, “this M20?”

“Mk22,” John said.

“Yes, that. I’ve never heard of it.”

“Me, either,” Davila said.

John wasn’t surprised, given that the rifle was only adopted by the Marines a few months ago. “It’s new.”

“How do you evenknowabout it?” Davila asked. “You were at...ah...away.”

Yeah, thanks for not spilling that I was in a kinder, softer loony bin.Brighter Days was nothing of the kind, but sometimes—in those moments when he wondered why he just couldn’thackit and man up already—he made jokes. Bad ones. “I just know.”

“But why not a Kalashnikov?” Ustinov said. “You can find ammunition more easily.”

“I like the feel.”

“We’ll be fine.” Davila changed the subject. “Where do we meet our contact?”

“Parviz will let you off ten kilometers shy of Ishkashim.”

“Let us off.” He and Davila traded looks, and then Davila said, “And then Parviz just drives away?” When Ustinov nodded, he continued, “With or without our contact actually being there? We got any way of lettinghimknow where we are?”

“I’m afraid not, no.” Ustinov offered a mournful shake. I’m sure you understand.”

“Actually, no,” John said. The traffic noise was louder. Ahead, the thick canopy made by the trees was thinning and the light on the path below brighter. “What if we’re late? Or really early?”

“All this has been factored into the timing of your rendezvous. Parviz will see to it that you are delivered to the proper location at the proper time.”

“With no one knowing where we are? What happens if the contact is hurt, killed, not able to get there? Or if we get a flat tire, run out of gas…”

Ustinov cut him off. “Again, contingencies have been made.”

This was all very vague. John tossed a look at Davila, who was studying Ustinov—and saw Davila’s face clear. “I get it,” Davila said.

“You do?” John asked.

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