"Nice to see you again," he muttered, facing into the doorway. Looking into the dark glass, I could see that there was no one close enough to eavesdrop -- not without some kind of high-efficiency mic rig, and if they knew enough to show up here with one of those, we were dead anyway.
"You too, brother," I said. "I'm -- I'm sorry, you know?"
"Shut up. Don't be sorry. You were braver than I am. Are you ready to go underground now? Ready to disappear?"
"About that."
"Yes?"
"That's not the plan."
"Oh," he said.
"Listen, OK? I have -- I have pictures, video. Stuff that really proves something." I reached into my pocket and tickled Masha's phone. I'd bought a charger for it in Union Square on the way down, and had stopped and plugged it in at a cafe for long enough to get the battery up to four out of five bars. "I need to get it to Barbara Stratford, the woman from the Guardian. But they're going to be watching her -- watching to see if I show up."
"You don't think that they'll be watching for me, too? If your plan involves me going within a mile of that woman's home or office --"
"I want you to get Van to come and meet me. Did Darryl ever tell you about Van? The girl --"