Free Dragonfly Bones by David Cole

I don’t think I’ve ever brought a woman to bed in my home.”
    â€œWhat are you?” I said, his humor thawing me out some. “A priest?”
    â€œI play Indian flutes,” he said. “Sometimes, playing one on a spring evening, I feel like a priest. But that’s another time.”
    â€œDon’t think you’ll play me into bed.”
    We both nodded, the banter having gone on just long enough to make each of us uncomfortable.
    â€œYou’re Navajo.”
    â€œAnd you’re part Hopi. Can we talk about that later?”
    â€œDon’t want to talk about it at all,” I said shortly. “Okay. Where do you want to spend your five minutes?”
    Â 
    Hospital cafeteria food rarely looks any different. I passed up the Jell-O and flan, desperately wanting some caffeine, but took nothing. Brittles loaded a plate with scrambled eggs, bacon, link sausages, and a soupy pile of grits.
    He picked a table against the wall, nobody nearby, and dug into his food.
    â€œHaven’t eaten in a long time,” he said without apology, shoveling eggs into his mouth with one hand while fumbling with the other in his briefcase. Laid a manila envelope on the table, but didn’t unseal it.
    I waited, silent.
    â€œYou’re a hacker.”
    It wasn’t a question. He pulled out a thick dossier, laid it in front of me, flecks of sausage meat dropping on the top sheet.
    â€œVery good hacker, Don tells me. Computer forensic specialist. I had to look that one up. Okay, we’ve got a proposition for you.”
    â€œI’m booked up this month.”
    He laid another sheet of paper in front of me.
    â€œThis says you do very little for Don. Small jobs only. No jobs involving personal contact?”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œWay I hear it, you’re taking time off. Running and such. Free weights.”
    â€œI work out,” I said finally, part of me angry at the surveillance of my personal life, but mostly resigned to technology’s intrusion on privacy. I’d done it myself, many times, too many times to think that others wouldn’t hesitate to use the same snooper stuff I did.
    â€œWe know that,” he said, using a piece of wheat toast to sop up the last bits of egg and grits. “I’m not here to threaten you in any way. To threaten your privacy. I know you’ve been threatened before. I know all about that mess down in Mexico. Your friend being kidnapped. So that’s why you don’t want any more jobs involving personal contact?”
    I got out my cell phone and the set of numbers Don had given to me. Still our old code, I noticed, deciphering what he’d written so I’d call the right number at the exact right time.
    â€œLaura.” Don answered immediately. “You’re looking for bona fides?”
    â€œWho is this handsome guy?” I asked.
    â€œNathan Brittles. Two tours of duty in Nam. One of the original members of the Shadow Wolves. Ask him what that is.”
    â€œYou were a shadow wolf?” I said to Brittles.
    â€œIndian trackers. U.S. Customs. Mostly involving drug smuggling across the border and through the Tohono O’Odham reservation. I think the current bunch is working on terrorist stuff.”
    â€œWhat else?” I asked Don.
    â€œSpent some time as an investigator for the Arizona Department of Prisons. I think he quit in disgust at the politics. Been a U.S. Marshal for a while. I’ve been trying to hire him that last five months. That enough?”
    I pushed PWR , shut down the cell phone, snapped it shut.
    â€œSo you’re who you say you are.”
    â€œLook. Can we, like, get beyond this adversarial posture for a while?”
    He swiped the papers back into the briefcase, except the sealed envelope.
    Now, here’s the crazy part, I mean, I tell you, this is really crazy. I’d described him as handsome to Don, one of those words that comes out from your gut before