Page 109 of The Session

“No, definitely not.”

“What if they were asked to do that by Max Lightman or one of his subordinates?”

“I’m not sure I understand the question,” Mark replied.

“If Max decided to, I don’t know, sell secrets about United States military–based security to a foreign adversary and directed this person to make that happen, do you think they would?”

“I reject the premise of the question,” Mark told him.

“Yes, but if part A was true, would B be a possible conclusion?” John tried again.

“If part A was as stated in your question, then we are in an alternate reality, and B is not the same B in the new hypothetical as it was in the initial question.”

“We’ll table that for now. What were you doing in Eleuthera?”

Although Mark couldn’t see the readout of his mental state on the wall behind him, he was sure it had started flashing brightly.

“What does anybody do there?” he asked, not ready to make it easy for John.

“Sightsee, suntan, swim . . . fuck? Is that what you and Tru Feingold were doing there?”

A bright flicker of red from the back wall reflected on the doorknob in front of Mark.

He realized they were talking about the first time he’d gone to Eleuthera, not when he went back to investigate what happened to Kevin. He tried to put the pieces together.

“We’re just friends,” Mark replied.

“Friends are known to fuck. It’s a well-known fact,” John replied.

“Well, we don’t. She’s just a friend,” Mark told him.

“Maybe you thought about it. Perhaps some innuendo between you two. Some contact. Maybe something you would be uncomfortable with if your girlfriend found out.”

Well, their information isn’t that complete. The question was, Who are they?

If it was the CIA trying to assess Summit as a threat, the line of questioning had taken an odd turn.

If these people were Kevin’s murderers, they seemed completely unaware of how much Mark had learned about what had transpired.

“Before your flight to Santa Fe . . .” John began, and Mark could feel his pulse quicken. “You met a woman at a coffee shop in Exuma. What did you talk about?”

Mark hadn’t thought he was being observed then but realized he shouldn’t be surprised. If Summit had access to the taxi drivers around the islands, it shouldn’t surprise him if the barista at the coffee shop was also an informant. Hell, the whole town could be wired.

“She was asking me questions about Summit,” Mark replied.

“What kind of questions?” John asked.

“Questions like yours—if I think Summit’s shady, if I think Summit’s up to illegal activity.”

“And what did you say?” John asked.

“I don’t recall specifically, but something to the effect that, in my experience, I didn’t see any of that. Despite what people say online, et cetera.”

“Was this the first time you spoke to her?” John asked.

Mark shook his head. “She approached me in Miami, wanted a selfie, then invited me out for drinks, which I declined,” he explained. “She acted like a groupie high on my paramedic celebrity.”

“Did you not find her attractive?” John inquired.