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So, Ustinov and Mac knew who he was. They knew his story. Which meant they just might come knocking?—
And then, his phone rang.
They both jumped.
His phone rang, again. Well, burbled out his ringtone.
“DarthVader?” Roni said. “You have the Darth Vader march as a ringtone?”
“Hey, in my experience, no one calls just to shoot the breeze.”Although talk about saved by the bell.Would he ever tell Roni about who he’d been and what he’d done? Maybe not for a while. Maybe not ever.
Backing away from the bridge, he fished his cell from a pocket. Unlike Afghanistan, Nepal had excellent cell service. He stared at the number, didn’t recognize it, shrugged, then slid the little answer arrow to the right and put the phone to his ear. “Hello?”
Static crackled, as if the phone was clearing its throat—and then there was a voice he knew.
“Hello, Mr. Child. So good of you to take my call. I wonder,” Ustinov said, “how are your teeth?”