Buenos Aires, Argentina.
It was dawn, and Hansen had been up all night. He could hardly sleep because of how nervous he felt and because of the concern to think about the situation they were in now. He went downstairs to the kitchen and made himself coffee. He poured a good amount into a cup and sat down to drink it. In a few minutes David walked into the kitchen and Hansen gave him a tired look.
“I see I’m not the only one who couldn’t sleep,” David told him.
Hansen barely managed a smile.
“And why didn’t you sleep? You are not the target of a terrorist group.”
David also poured himself some coffee and sat across from Hansen to drink it.
“I’m not, but I’m still concerned about Joseph’s welfare. And yours, of course.”
Hansen looked at the coffee mug, and stood there, staring at
