VAL OPENED THE trunk. Danny lay there, with his bird suit on. “The person of a foreign service agent shall be inviolate,” he said. “They shall not profane him.”
“Oh, God,” Val said. “Here we go again.”
“Thou shalt not profane an agent of the person of your country.” He smelled to Val like old wet leaves in a northeast rainy season.
“You are not a foreign agent, Danny,” Val said. “You carry the water to conference room B. You’re a fixer.”
“I demand my rights. I demand to be taken to my embassy.” His head was small with sweat locks.
“This, you septic excuse for a spy,” Val said, “is your embassy. Welcome to sanctuary. You knew all about this bomb test, didn’t you?”
Danny stroked his crotch. “So what?”
“You knew this was coming. That’s why you stayed in the trunk. You knew they were go
