"If they're all closed cases, then what good does it do us?" Nina asks.
Nina met Silo this morning after he called her last night. He said he had gone through about half of the files, but he found something, and wanted to tell her in person. Only what he found was not what Nina was hoping for.
All of the files on the USB drive referred to activities that had taken place eight years previously, and all the cases related to said activities were closed. As in, not being investigated anymore. Which, as far as Nina can see, is a dead end.
She had figured that much out herself--that the cases were closed--which is why she shared the USB with Silo in the first place. When she had said as much to Silo, he'd told her to just trust him and get in the car, so she had, and now she and Silo are walking down the street to meet someone Silo says can help.
Silo isn't looking at Nina. He's looking at his phone. She pokes him.
"Silo."
"What?" He doesn't raise his head, and now he's texting.
"Did you hear what I said?" Nina repeats her question. "What good do eight-year-old closed cases do us?"
"No good yet," Silo replies. "But we haven't asked the right people. He's on his way."
"He?"
"Talay," Silo jerks just head in the direction of the man coming toward them. "He went to uni with Kam and me. Now he works under me in Intelligence."
Nina raises her eyebrows. "You have a gofer now?"
"Don't let Talay hear you say that." Silo warns. "He prefers the word 'assistant'."
"Did I hear my name?"
The newcomer is taller than Nina, but a little shorter than Silo, and built like a beanpole with the face of a monkey. His smile verges just on the edge of goofy, but it's charming just the same. Right now, all of that goofy charm is focused on Nina.
"You're an intelligence officer?" What Nina doesn't say is that he looks less like a member of Thai Intelligence and more like a harassed member of an IT team. His clothes look like he's slept in them, half of his dark hair flops over his face while the other half stands almost on end as though he routinely runs his fingers through it, but his brown eyes are totally alert.
"I know I don't look it," Talay has heard the question Nina hasn't asked. "But yes, I am. I'm someone who shouldn't be underestimated."
"According to who?" Silo mutters.
"Me," Talay says it like his authority is not to be questioned, and flips Silo the bird while he's at it. "Dipshit."
Silo flips it back. "Asshat."
"Thank you," Talay glances at Nina. "And you are?"
"Nina Delgado," Nina likes this particular friend of Silo's. "I'm—"
"A friend," Silo says, putting more emphasis on the word than is probably necessary. "Who needs your help."
"Ni-na," Talay splits the name into two syllables, smiles at her, and waggles his eyebrows. That and the significance he puts on her name makes Nina glance at Silo.
"Why does every one of your friends say my name like that?"
"Because of what happens to Silo's face when we do," Talay's smile gets bigger. "It's actually an expression I didn't know people could make--like you can't make up your mind how you feel about something, you know? So your face isn't quite sure what to do? Except, the only time he ever makes that face is when your name comes up, so—"
