a plate. So did Dalzell. His presence seemed natural. More than natural: inevitable. I imagined Vangie's passport in his hands. Making sure that friends stay friends.

     Vilma and Hector carried in the tub of iced beer. I wondered who was in the cottage. They went out, and it was just three Americans in the room.

     Dalzell pulled a bottle out of the tub, popped the top and crossed the room to bring it to me.

     “You smell like a dead rat,” he said. When I didn't take the bottle, he drank from it.

     “You knew her,” I said.

     “Once I saw the picture, uh-huh. I met her once or twice right in this very place.”

     “You told Correon.”

     “I shit you not, Jack, this job's nothing but a juggling act. Try to give to one without taking away from the other. I had to cover myself.”

     “Anyway, it's all over,” Penney said.

     “What does that mean?”

     “You're going home,” said Dalzell. “Embassy plane's at the airport. We got you booked on United out of Manila, first flight tomorrow morning.”

     I said, “I want to talk to Vangie.”

     Penney piped, “No can do. I'm afraid she's a write-off.”

     “Why make it hard on everybody?” Dalzell said.

     I went to a chair across the room and let myself down in it. I didn't want to speak right away. I had to get something solid under me.

     “Don't fight it,” said Penney. “This is a done deal.”

     “What's going to happen to her?”

     “I didn't ask.”

     “He doesn't even want her.”

     Dalzell said, “I didn't think he would—he's got a million of 'em. Really, when I told him, it was just a courtesy call. When he found out she was splitting, though, she started to look real good to him again. Ain't that the way?”