Alex wrote fast. “I need to come to work-”

“What if you had the flu? What would you do then?”

“I'd still come in.”

“I'll bet you would, too. Ever miss a day because you were sick?”

“No.”

“Good. Then the boss won't give you a hard time. Be deathly ill with the flu for a few days. Tell them you're working at home. They'll expect you to be sleeping a lot, that's why you won't be answering your cell phone if someone calls.”

“What good is this going to do? I'll just have to-”

“I don't know what you're up against here,” Ben said, “assuming you're up against anything. But the smart thing is to act as if.”

“Act as if what?”

“You still writing?”

God, he hated the way Ben cut him off. Like the two extra seconds it would take to listen would be too much of a waste of his valuable time.

“Yeah, I'm still writing.”

“First chance you get, go to a Web site. Nononsenseselfdefense.com. One word. Bring a cup of coffee, you'll be there a while. You need to get smart about paying attention to your environment and thinking like the opposition. That Web site is a good place to start learning how not to be a soft target.”

“Fine, I'll go to the Web site. And I'll have the flu for a few days. Then what?”

“I'll be out there before then.”

Alex was surprised. “You're coming?”

“I just said I was, didn't I?”

“But my cell phone will be off, how will I-”

“I'll find you.”

The line went dead.

Alex looked at the phone for a moment, suddenly gripped by rage. He realized he was hoping to have it both ways-get Ben to come out here, but not have to actually ask him. And he'd managed it, too- except the way Ben had said it, it was as though he knew exactly what Alex was up to but had decided to humor him anyway.

And the way he'd hung up on him, too. Like the whole thing was such a pain in the ass for him he couldn't be bothered to even say goodbye.

That, or he just wanted to get off before Alex had a chance to say thank you.

Well, the hell with that. Alex wasn't going to say it.

It all felt like paranoia, but in the end, Alex decided he'd better listen to Ben. He went home to meet the locksmith and get the front door taken care of, but after that he checked back into the Four Seasons. He called Alisa and told her he had the flu and would be working at home, probably for a couple of days. And he e-mailed Osborne, giving him the bare bones about Hilzoy and telling him he'd fill him in on the rest when he was back in the office.

Staying at the hotel wasn't bad. It was luxurious, the food was good, and he liked the fitness center. And what the hell, it wasn't as though he ever took a real vacation. This was as close as he was likely to get. He checked out nononsenseselfdefense.com, and Ben had been right. There was a lot of information, and even though the subject was pretty alien to him, it seemed to make good sense.

The problem was, everything that had happened in the last few days was beginning to feel… weird, improbable, like an odd smell he could dispel if he could just get back to his normal life. He was surprised at how strong the urge was to go into the office, see the usual people, take the usual calls, go home at the end of the day. It was as though he'd been told not to scratch at a scab, and the itch was now driving him crazy.

He started to wonder if he'd blown the whole thing out of proportion. Was it so hard to believe Hilzoy had been dealing drugs? And Hank-sad as it was, young people did have heart attacks from time to time. And the police certainly seemed to think the break-in at his house was a random thing. Maybe it all had been just a giant coincidence. Add a big case of the nervousness it all induced, and it was no wonder everything had started to smell like a conspiracy.

On his second evening there, he was having a solitary dinner in the hotel's restaurant when he looked up to see Ben walking toward him. He knew it was Ben from the walk even before he saw the face. It was a wrestler's walk, slightly bowlegged, but more than anything else it was confident, relaxed, the kind of walk you see on someone who not only thinks he owns the place but is probably right about it. Alex had always been jealous of that walk. When they were kids, he'd secretly tried to imitate it.

He stood and tried to think of something to say, but all that came out was, “Ben.”

Ben was wearing jeans, boots, a dark shirt, a wool jacket. A leather bag was slung over a shoulder. His brother didn't look much older. He still had the linebacker's physique, that air of readiness and Don't mess with me. His hair was longer and he had a stubble of beard; that was new. He was looking around the restaurant as though assessing it, and Alex realized from what he'd read on the nononsenseselfdefense Web site that Ben was evaluating the environment tactically. So people really did this stuff. Up until that moment, Alex had half believed it was all a game.

Ben turned his eyes on Alex and looked him up and down. “How you doing, Alex?”

Alex wanted to hold out his hand but didn't. “All right. You?”

Ben nodded. “You were sitting with your back to the wall. You went to the Web site?”

“How did you know how to find me here?”

“I told you I'd find you.”

“How?”

Ben glanced around again. “There are, what, three good hotels in Palo Alto and Menlo Park? And this is the newest and the best. It was the first one I called. You're checked in under your own name. I told you not to do that.”

“I'd already checked in-”

“And your car's parked in the general parking lot.”

“So?”

“You should use the valet. Waiting for you in a car parked near yours would be the best way to get to you here.”

“How did you even know which car is mine?”

“All it takes is access to the DMV. Whoever you're having a problem with wouldn't even need that, they might have just watched you getting in and out of it elsewhere. Circle the parking lot checking plates… bam. Nice little M3, by the way.”

The way Ben said it, it all sounded obvious. But how was he supposed to know? He wished he could catch Ben trying to figure out what prior art to use in a patent application, or how to code in C++, or a dozen other things. He could make him feel stupid, too.

“Another thing,” Ben said. “You're parked way down at that slope, at the exterior of the parking garage. It's deserted down there. How easy are you trying to make things for the bad guys? You could have at least parked at the top, near the office complex, where people are coming and going.”

“The parking lot was full when I got here,” Alex said, seriously beginning to resent the lectures. “Top to bottom. It was business hours. It must empty out at night.”

He thought, Now he's going to tell me I should have thought of that. Instead, Ben said, “I could use something to eat. Mind if we switch seats?”

Alex got up and Ben took his seat. Ben picked up Alex's plate of half-eaten food and moved it across the table. Alex said, “You want to get a menu?”

“Nah, I'll just have what you're having.”

A waiter came over. Alex said, “Another wild mushroom ravioli with Taleggio. And another glass of the Sophie's Rows.”

“No, no wine,” Ben said.

“Very good,” the waiter said, and moved off.

“You don't like wine?” Alex said, knowing it was stupid but feeling it was a personal rebuff all the same.

“Not really, no. Especially not after a long trip.”

“Where are you coming in from?”

“ Europe.”

“Did you not know Europe is a continent?” Alex asked, letting the full sarcastic Hello? into his tone.

Ben looked at him and didn't say anything, and Alex felt a wave of satisfaction.