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remembered Joaquin’s fear and the lovely taste. It wanted more. It needed more. Now it knew that no matter what happened, no matter what, it would find that fear and devour it.

chapter 13

MINIBAR, MAXI-PROBLEM
    Alondra shot out of the elevator and headed down the corridor in search of Watt’s room. After several wrong turns, she found it and knocked on the door.
    Watt answered wearing a hotel bathrobe and holding a cocktail in one hand and an open jar of macadamia nuts in the other.
    â€œHey, Alondra,” he said, ushering her into the room. “Just hitting the minibar a bit.”
    â€œA bit?” she said with a chuckle.
    There was a range of electronic gadgets strewn about the room. A Nagra tape recorder sat on the bed. A cornucopia of microphones erupted from a black plastic case. Some battery packs and chargers sat on the dresser. And on the floor lay a battered laptop connected to a variety of devices via a spiderweb of USB cables. Other than a black iPod, Alondra couldn’t identify most of it.
    â€œCould I get you something to drink?”
    â€œWhat are you having?”
    â€œRed Bull and vodka.”
    â€œEww,” Alondra said with a shiver of disgust.
    â€œYou should try one; it’s really good.”
    â€œNo, I think I’ll pass. But the vodka sounds good. I’ll have that. Ketel One if they have it.”
    Watt opened the minibar and scanned the shelves.
    â€œHmmm…Ketel One, Ketel One…ah, there it is!” he said, snatching a bottle. “Want anything with it?”
    â€œIce and…ah…tonic water?”
    Watt grabbed a few cubes from the ice bucket, cracked open the bottles, poured with a bartender’s flourish, and handed Alondra the finished product.
    She accepted the drink, sat down on the edge of the bed, and took a sip. The cold vodka tasted crisp and clean, and she had an intense flash of a sauna she’d visited in Finland.
    â€œSo how’s the man?” Watt asked cheerfully.
    â€œThat’s kind of why I came down here.”
    â€œReally, something wrong?”
    â€œI’m worried about him.”
    â€œWhat’s the matter, he’s got the jitters or something?”
    â€œNo, I mean worried .”
    â€œNot sure I get you.”
    Alondra sipped her way back to Finland, and took a long deep breath.
    â€œWell,” she said, searching for the right words. “It’s like, um, God, it’s like…um…shit…I don’t…”
    â€œC’mon, just spit it out. Jeez, I thought I was supposed to be the one with ‘communication issues,’” he said, popping a nut into his mouth.
    â€œOkay, I’ll just say it.”
    Seconds passed, Alondra remained silent. She looked into Watt’s expectant eyes. She’d always liked his eyes. Wide, blue, intense, and dotted with flecks of green. But as much as she liked them, she expected them to narrow in disbelief at what she had to say.
    She just had to get it out. And so, after another quick trip to Finland, she did:
    â€œI’m worried about his sanity,” she said.
    As she’d predicted, Watt’s eyes narrowed, and he turned away.
    â€œOh, don’t be ridiculous.”
    â€œI’m serious.”
    â€œWell, of course he’s crazy. I mean we’re all crazy. But he’s not crazy, crazy.”
    â€œI’m not so sure.”
    Watt paced as he went on a long, rambling rant about everything he knew and felt about Joaquin. About insanity and how it works. About why Joaquin didn’t fit the criteria, either constitutionally or pathologically. And on and on.
    Alondra tried to listen. But the words became a background hum. She was too worried to accept what sounded like rationalization.
    Finally, Watt stopped talking.
    Alondra looked up. Watt must have sensed her desperation, because he grabbed her by the shoulders and, staring into her eyes, said: “He’s fine. He really is. This is an