Corrine saw James Sonjae as soon as he cleared Customs. He looked tired, even more tired, in fact, than he had when she’d met him in the middle of the night.
“Need a ride?” she asked.
“Oh, thank God. I thought I was never going to get out of there. The line was endless.”
“Did you have trouble?”
“Not really. The line was a bit long, but it moved pretty quickly.”
“My car’s this way.”
It had gotten dark and cold since Corrine had arrived at the airport. Her thin sweater did little against the wind.
“It’s all in the bag,” Sonjae told her as they drove. “Computer disks, a big tape, and dirt.”
Corrine said nothing, deciding it would be best if she acted like she knew what the items were.
“How’s Ferg doing, anyway?” Sonjae asked.
“You would probably know better than me,” she said. “You just saw him.”
“No, I mean, with the cancer.”
What cancer? thought Corrine. But she kept her lawyer’s face on.
“I think he’s doing pretty well,” she said.
“I hope so. He looked a little run down. Probably the jet lag and everything.”
“Probably.”
“Shame,” said Sonjae. “I’ve known Fergie since he was a little kid, off and on. His dad and I go back. Long story.”
Corrine nodded. “So you knew him before the cancer?”
“Oh yeah. I only found out about that because I was visiting his father a few years back, before he died. Ferg’s kind of quiet about that. Always kept things to himself. Probably the way he was raised, I guess.”
Sonjae fell silent. Corrine tried to think of something to say to prompt him to continue. His exit was coming up.
“Hungry?” she asked as she took the turn onto the ramp.
“I could use some food, yeah.”
“Come on. I’ll buy you dinner.”