They had one attacker alive.
I didn't know this until I saw the look on Adrián's face at the airfield, it was that controlled compression I'd learned to read in the past twelve hours. Bad news. Expected. He stepped away from me to take the call and spoke in rapid Spanish with his back turned, and when he came back his jaw was set in a way that meant he had information he hadn't decided what to do with yet.
I filed that also. I was getting good at filing things.
He asked if Lucas was comfortable. I said yes. He nodded and went to speak to his security chief and I watched him go and thought: he's holding something back. He always holds the same way, shoulders level, face managed, that only tell the specific quality of his stillness when something is costing him more than usual.
I didn't
