involved."
Strick blinks with surprise, and Prester says incredulously, "Your ex-husband?"
"Danton DeWitt."
The name appears to mean nothing to either of them.
"When did he tell you all this?" Strick asks.
"Right before - before he died."
"What did he say? What were his exact words?"
She recounts what she remembers. When Strick asks what happens next, she tells them of her desperate flight into the river valley, her escape into whitewater, how she was knocked out.
"We saw," Strick interrupts, when she gets to the part of them holding her down and threatening her life.
It is her turn to stare with surprise. "You saw?"
"The whole world saw," Prester says. "YouTube and the like. The greatest video hits of your abduction got uploaded from a Malaysian Internet cafe. Current theory is the terrorists who grabbed you emailed the footage to their buddies in Malaysia via that satellite dish you signalled with. Ain't the twenty-first century a kick? And guess what, you were a hit. Not a blockbuster, not exactly front-page news, but solid middle-page coverage around the world, and four of the top forty YouTube videos of all time."
"Prester," Strick says. "This is a debriefing, not a gossip session."
Prester rolls his eyes but shuts up.
Strick says to Veronica, "That was the only time Derek mentioned your ex-husband's name."
"Yes."
"And minutes later you suffered a severe head injury."
"No," she says, knowing where he's going with this, "I mean, yes, but it wasn't like that -"
"I understand you're an ER nurse. So I don't need to tell you how concussions can jumble the memory."
"Derek said Danton's name," Veronica insists. "I'm sure of it."
"What exactly does your husband do?"
"Ex-husband. He's a commodities trader."
"I see. Where?"
"Legally, Texas, but really he divides his time between New York and Marin County."
"And do you have any other reason to believe your ex-husband was involved in your abduction by Islamic terrorists and an interahamwe militia?" Strick's voice is rich with disbelief.
She swallows. "No."
She wants to argue, but at the same time, she knows he's right, it doesn't make any sense at all. There's just no way Danton would ever have conspired with Islamic terrorists. So why did Derek suggest he was involved? How did Derek even know his name?
Strick nods, jots down a few words, and says dismissively, "We'll look into it. As for Derek being targeted, yes, obviously. Hard to say who by. Advance bookings are required to see the Bwindi gorillas. Any number of people could have known. Now please, Miss Kelly, go back to the beginning and tell us just what you experienced personally."
Veronica decides she doesn't like Mr. Strick at all. But he works for the State Department, he is the voice of authority, it is his job to avenge Derek. She accedes to his request and tells him everything that happened. It seems to take a long time.
"I don't understand," she says when she finally reaches their rescue. "Zimbabwe's a thousand miles south of the Congo. They don't even share a border. So what were Zimbabwe soldiers doing there?"
It is Prester who explains: "Mugabe, Zimbabwe's president, he sent his army here to back Kabila against the Rwandans back in '99. After Kabila won he let the Zimbos stay, smart move seeing as how he was in no position to kick them out, and granted them some seriously large land concessions. General Gorokwe, the guy who helped get you out, is the personal overlord of a chunk of real estate the size of Delaware. And he sends most of the money he's squeezing out of the Congo back to his big boss, Mugabe, who these days needs every hard-currency penny he can get. It's all very feudal around these parts, case you hadn't noticed. Anyways Gorokwe volunteered his troops to help out the Special Forces. Good thing too. They're jungle vets, they know the territory, we probably couldn't have extracted you without them."
"Yes, thank you," Strick says sharply to Prester. He turns back to Veronica, reaches into his briefcase and withdraws a black binder. "We'd like you to look at these pictures and tell us if you recognize anyone."
Veronica takes the binder. Prester walks over to look over her shoulder as she flips through it. The pictures are headshots of candid moments, blown to 8x10 size, often taken from across the street or across the room, some of them almost too blurry to be useful. There are no labels or captions, only a number in the top corner of each page. All the subjects in the first half of the book are