Against All Enemies by John Gilstrap

asked.
    Christyne’s jaw locked and she looked to the floor. This was the step too far, apparently.
    “You’re in this far, ma’am,” Jonathan prompted. “You wouldn’t have told us what you have if you didn’t trust us to help him. Trust us for the next part, too. Where is he?”
    Silence. She seemed to be on the fence, struggling deeply with the whole trust thing.
    “Is he in the country or out of the country?” Jonathan pressed.
    “Out, I think,” she said. “I’ m really not sure, but that’s what I think.”
    Jonathan saw that as a point of confirmation for what they already thought they knew. “Is it Venezuela?” he asked. As an added precaution against suspected listening devices, he more mouthed the word than spoke it.
    The flash behind her eyes told him what he wanted to know, even before she could mount an effort to deny it. Which she didn’t. “How did you know?”
    “Because I think that’s where the feds are looking for him. I assume you have the means to contact him?”
    Stone face.
    “Of course you do,” Jonathan said. “Tell him to remember Acid Gambit. There’s a huge graveyard across from where the Commandancia used to be.”
    “Acid what?” Christyne asked.
    “Gambit,” Ryan said, his first words in a while. “Like the X-Men character?”
    “Sure,” Jonathan said. He had no idea. “G-A-M-BI-T. Acid Gambit.”
    “What does it mean?”
    “Dylan will know. And there’s no way to miss the cemetery. It’s huge.”
    “The Commandancia? What’s that?”
    “He’ll know. Trust me, he’ll know. How much time will he need?”
    “For what?”
    “To get mobilized to meet us in Panama.”
    Christyne stewed. “A week,” she said.
    Jonathan said, “Fine. Have him meet us there one week from today. At noon.”
    “What happens after he meets you?” Christyne asked. “If I can contact him, that is. And if he agrees.”
    “We talk,” Jonathan said. “After that, the rest is up to him.”
    “How will he know it’s not a trap?”
    “Because we all have to trust each other right now.”
    “No police, right? No FBI or CIA?”
    “Cross my heart.” Jonathan made a giant X over his left chest. “Our mission is far enough off the grid that we wouldn’t want their involvement any more than Dylan would. And by the way, make sure he knows that one mistake will ruin everything for him. He needs to be careful.”
    “Which brings up another point,” Big Guy said. “I get it that you love Dylan. I get that he’s your husband and your father, and that you’d do anything to protect him, but I want to make one thing as clear as it can possibly be. If you intentionally mislead us, jam us up and get us into trouble—if you set us up for some kind of a double-cross—I’ll forget all about you being part of the Special Forces family. All I’ll remember is that you tried to hurt us, and trust me when I say that that would be a terrible, terrible mistake.” He bored his eyes through Ryan. “The kind of mistake that keeps a teenager from seeing drinking age. Am I making myself clear?”
    Air leaked from the room as the reality of Big Guy’s threat made its mark.
    “I think that sounded more threatening than Big Guy meant it to be,” Jonathan said, aware that his statement was more lie than truth. “But this is the worst possible time for you to lie. If you have no intent of contacting Dylan—or, worse yet, if you intend to betray us—this is the time for you to tell us to walk away.”
    Jonathan pointed to Christyne with his whole hand, as if it were a knife blade, or maybe a karate chop. “You know that we work hard in what we do, and you know that we will fight to make things right. You don’t want to be the thing that is wrong. Tell me you understand that.”
    A new level of fear invaded Christyne’s face as she nodded emphatically. “I do understand. Just as you understand that if you ever harmed us, Dylan would not rest until you were dead.”
    Jonathan smiled. “I