“You're not committing to anything here.”

Sebastian peered skeptically at his cousin. He was going on three run-ins with his cousin in less than a week, and the persistence had begun to feel more like pressure. “Suppose I'm really good. I mean, maybe I'm some kind of prodigy, or I have some hidden potential that this guy will see, or maybe I'm at least good enough to be trained.”

“Then you're still not committing to anything.”

Before they stepped through the door, Sebastian paused and glanced up at the name above it. “Paul Layne's Ammunition and Weaponry,” it read.

“Quite a wordy name for a business,” Sebastian mocked, remembering his business classes and how they spoke of branding for marketing purposes.

“It works for us,” Luciano grinned. “Everyone who needs to know about it does, and nobody else wants to.”

Sighing, Sebastian stepped through the doorway into the low building. He paused, glancing around at all the guns, bullets, and gear, while Luciano pushed past him to lead him to the gun range in the back. Of course, Sebastian would not admit it, but he had trained for a few weeks on how to use a handgun. Fortunately, he hadn't received his Concealed Handgun License, or Luciano would probably know about it. Still, Sebastian could miss on purpose without raising too much suspicion.

“Pauly!” Luciano bellowed out across the cavernous room, and the shortest man that Sebastian had ever seen came out from behind a desk. His size did not seem to indicate any medical condition, and the look in his eye let Sebastian know that a short stature did not equal an easy target.

“Where's Isaac?” Luciano demanded, and “Pauly” hooked his thumb to a doorway that stood between two racks of what looked like rocket launchers, though Sebastian knew that no regular gun dealer could sell rocket launchers.

When Luciano opened the door, it led into a dark, narrow passage that held more shadows than its two lights would have suggested. As they passed the first section of wall, Sebastian realized why. To his right stretched a vast room, one Sebastian recognized quickly as an indoor shooting range. Luciano handed him some earplugs and over the head earmuffs before equipping himself with the same. Before Sebastian even saw the man, shots rang out, and a moment later, he encountered the smoke of the shots that had just fired several holes into the head of a paper target.

Both Luciano and Sebastian stepped back from the booth to avoid upsetting the man with the gun. The man, however, seemed to have shot his last round, and he turned to face his visitors as if he had heard them come in.

“Luke,” the man nodded. “I see you've brought a friend.”

Luke patted Sebastian on the shoulder. “This is my cousin I was telling you about, Bash Rivera. I told him you wanted to meet him, so since he missed you at the party on Saturday, I figured the gun range would be as good a place as any.”

“You shoot?” the man inquired, peeling off his goggles and setting them on a hook. He grabbed another pair that sat in a sealed plastic bag and held them out to Sebastian.

“I've shot a couple of times, but, no, I would not say I shoot.” Miss one shot out of three, he planned silently, but mix up the order so that they cannot detect a pattern.

“Go ahead, then,” Luciano urged, grabbing the bag from Sebastian's hand and tearing the plastic off.

Reluctantly, Sebastian slipped on the goggles and reached for the gun. He turned around to receive a clip that Luciano handed to him, clicking the magazine into place and steadying himself for the shots.

Miss, miss, hit, he counted.

Miss, hit, miss.

Miss, miss, hit.

Hit, miss, miss.

For several rounds, Sebastian continued his intentional pattern of hits and misses until he had shot through several clips. Finally, he turned back to his cousin and the friend. “I told you – I wouldn't say I shoot.”

“Pretty good shot when you do hit, though,” commented the man, who Sebastian now realized must be Isaac.

“What? I hit his arm once, his neck - that one in the head was good, I admit. But not really anything else.”

Isaac threw Luciano a look, and Luciano just shrugged. “So, the pattern meant nothing?” Isaac confronted Sebastian. “Groupings of three, one hit, two misses for the entire set of shots. Even ending on a two-round cycle to throw me off. Very nice – confused me for a few seconds.”

For a minute, Sebastian did not trust himself to speak. Fury streamed out of every pore on his body, and he wished he could punch the guy in the face before marching out the door into the afternoon sun. How had the man seen it?

“Luke is right about you; I can see that. But you're not convinced. How can I help you make a decision?”

“You can't,” Sebastian contradicted, even more determined than before. “I'm still not interested.'

When Isaac peered over at Luciano, Sebastian could not miss the significant exchange of looks that took place. “You need to tell him why you finally joined,” Isaac prompted.

Luciano shrugged nervously. “But he doesn't know.”

“He doesn't know anything?” Isaac begged incredulously. When Luciano shook his head, Isaac breathed out through his nose, an obvious attempt to rein in anger. “Well, I guess you had better go somewhere and sit down.”

Throwing a glance at the ceiling, Luciano laid his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “Can you give me a minute, Cuz? You can take my keys, and I’ll be out in a few.”

Sebastian started to protest, but after taking in his cousin’s irritation, he decided he wasn’t afraid of what the men would say. Certainly, Sebastian wouldn’t let himself be manipulated into anything. “I have somewhere to be in an hour,” Sebastian pressured.

“This won’t take long,” Luciano promised, and Bash turned and walked out.

“Don’t flake out on me, Luke,” Isaac leveled immediately. “You are the one who mentioned Sebastian to your original handler. I was assigned to help you bring him in, and that’s what I’m trying to do.”

“I talked to Philip like I talk to my friends – because that’s how the CIA plays handlers, as friends. But I did not intend to put my cousin in the Agency’s crosshairs. He’s not some kind of target with specific access to evidence, so there’s no reason you need him.”

Except the request of an asset. “I promise that I’m not giving undue attention to this issue – you don’t have a lot of experience in how the Agency works things. It may seem a lot to you, but it is within the lines of normal. Remember, we are not just recruiting him – we’re training you on a soft target before you have to take on a hard one. Be glad it’s your adult, male cousin. Mine was my little sister.”

Even knowing what he knew about the CIA, Luke’s face twisted in disgust.

“Not like that,” Isaac reassured quickly. “They didn’t have me bring her in. I just had to convince her to do some recon for me without letting her know why. I didn’t do anything particularly unethical, but it was an exercise in suppressing guilt nonetheless.”

“Well, I don’t have a little sister anymore, remember? All I have is Sebastian.”

“And you’re not going to hurt him – not unless you regret your decision to join up and are therefore hesitant to offer the opportunity to someone else. You already failed at getting the invitation, and I had to call in a favor for that. If you can manage this – with or without hurting your cousin, completely at your discretion – then you will be ready to enter the field. Unless you’ve changed your mind about this job…”

After a calming breath, Luke shook his head. “No, you’re right. Sebastian is a big boy. I can only apply so much pressure, and I can tell that he has grown more than competent to say no – even to me – if he’s not interested. I’ll practice your little techniques and aim for my soft target.”

“In which case…” Isaac pressed, “Did you find any intelligence that would give us leverage with him?”

Squeezing his temples, Luke closed his eyes to focus his thoughts. Opening them, he offered the only possible weakness he had seen in his cousin so far. Sebastian had created a fairly simple but impenetrable structure to his life, and Luke had not noticed a any spot of particular frailty. “Remember how I said he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Well, I was right, but something happened at that party Friday night. There was this girl, and she wasn’t his usual type. Even in Langley Park, Sebastian had picked out a certain type of girl to engage with, the smooth and superficial girl with more street smarts than average. See, he could play at dating, play at flirting or whatever, but he wasn’t risking hurting her when he was done. It kept people off his back about women, because everyone had a woman or women, plural, as a status symbol. Things seem similar in this area, though the women are just as likely to collect men as status symbols here it’s less about gender and more about wealth. Bash never choose the girl who brought him the most respect or the girl who worshipped him. He would just always pick the one who was of similar mind, who might take him or leave him at a moment’s notice. So, there were these girls at the party, and he seemed kind of taken by them. At first, I thought it was the sexy blonde. She seemed exactly his type – savvy, smart, a decent human but noncommittal. It was the other one, though, sweet and kind of naïve, by what Bash told me later. He definitely wants to go out with her and see what happens – I guess his tastes have changed in five years. She was a tight package of curves and curls, and probably the one who fit in least with the Gansett group. Not the usual “help Bash stay out of sight” girl.”

“Definitely sounds promising,” Isaac agreed. “Meeting and interacting with her could go a long way in giving you the appearance of safety for your cousin. Will you see if you can manage an in with her? Get a jump on her?”

“Don’t know if I can manage that since she goes to a different school than Sebastian.”

“Where?” Since Luke had no experience, it wouldn’t hurt for Isaac to scope her out first. Besides, he loved curls – and curves.

“U.R.I. She’s a premed major.”

Isaac nodded. “Good information. Let me see what I can pull up on her, then I’ll get back to you on how to manage the intro.”

With an internal sigh of disgust at himself, Luciano nodded and made his way out to where his cousin waited in the car.

With all of the time to think, Sebastian had begun to imagine a thousand horrible possibilities for what Luciano would tell him about Mariana. He wavered between curiosity and apprehension as he drove the fifteen minutes to the pub that Luciano recommended. Once they had entered the dusky interior, Luciano led his cousin to a booth in the corner. “I suggest you order a drink,” he commanded, calling over a waitress and ordering his own.

“A St. Peters Dark,” Sebastian conceded before turning back to stare down his cousin. “Now, start talking.”

“Just wait a minute. First, tell me about that stunt back at the shooting range.”

“Did you know, too? Sebastian accused.

Luciano snickered. “Not even. Isaac is just like that. He's not like anyone I've met so far.”

The waitress brought two long-necked bottles and a couple of tall glasses.

“In fact,” Luciano continued, “he's part of the reason I joined. He was just so smart. I figured if I could learn half of what he knows, I'd be content to stay that way for the rest of my life.”

Sebastian took a long swig of his drink, forcing the slight burn past his throat. “Part of the reason,” he prompted.

Luciano stared at his own beer, swirling the drink in his hand for several seconds. “You've probably figured out this has something to do with Mariana.”

Instead of responding, Sebastian took another drink, letting the cold liquid cool the intensity of his nerves. “So, what happened to Mariana. Did she go through some kind of initiation?” When Luciano glared at him, Sebastian coughed. “I'm sorry, Luciano. I just have been imagining all sorts of horrible possibilities, and that was the worst I could think of.”

“It is not the worst,” Luciano corrected, and Sebastian felt the beer sour in his gut as he realized Luciano's meaning. When Sebastian had worried over his sweet little cousin, he had imagined the worst of every possibility, and he had considered her voluntary initiation into a gang as the worst possible fate. Somehow it had seemed worse to know that she would choose a gang than to think that she had been forced into some horrible role as a slave. Faced with reality, though, Sebastian recognized his error. The ability to choose one's own path played such a vital role in his philosophy of the world that the thought of having that ripped away sent him into paroxysms of fury.

“When did it happen?” Sebastian asked.

“About four weeks after your graduation. She just disappeared. I had already been talking to Isaac since before you graduated, but I hadn't made my decision. Basically, once she disappeared, all I could think about was how I was going to find her. I mean, after weeks of asking and begging around the neighborhood, I had reached a total dead end. I thought, if anyone can find her, some big, secret government agency can. Then Isaac explained to me that the FBI does more with domestic slavery, but he told me that if I worked for them, I could go to the source.”

“The cartels?” Sebastian's horror came across more as fascination to Luciano. “How exactly does that work?”

“I just do with the cartels what I had already done with the Perucañas in the old neighborhood.”

Sebastian shook his head. “I don't think that you'll be able to pull of the old tricks to avoid killing people or violating your principles.”

For a full minute, Luciano said nothing, and Sebastian began to think that his cousin didn't want to admit what compromises he was willing to make down in El Salvador. Finally, Luciano sucked in a deep breath, blowing it out slowly.

“My old tricks will probably just get me killed. I have learned some new tricks, though. Things Isaac has used himself to avoid getting his own hands dirty as much as possible. And I will mostly be working with the cartel members – not as much the victims. I should be able to avoid most things that would cost my conscience.”

“And it's going to be so dangerous. I mean, I know we're not afraid of danger, but this is a new level.”

“It is,” Luciano admitted. “But Mariana is worth it.”

“You're not going to find her. And you’re not going to stop the cartels.”

“Probably not in either case, but I could help take down one cartel leader, I could throw a wrench into some operations. If I could foul up the works enough to help one woman avoid slavery, one kid escape becoming a drug mule – don't you think that's worth it?”

Sebastian processed his cousin's words, mulling them over for several seconds. “If you tear down one cartel leader, another will rise up in his place.” To his surprise, Luciano laughed.

“Most likely, little cousin, I will not even manage that. There's a good chance that I will be killed within a week of my first mission. Still, if I am not, I will manage some good.”

Even though Sebastian hated to hear of Luciano's potential impending demise, he could not focus on the idea because of the fog induced in his mind over Mariana's abduction. His sweet, beautiful little cousin, now maybe barely eighteen, abducted, abused, enslaved. God only knew what she had suffered. Sebastian understood why Luciano had done what he had, futile though it might prove. Had Sebastian himself had a sister, he would have acted the same. Fortunately, God had seen fit to make him an only child – he had no desire to suffer through that pain, and to avoid it would willingly endure the isolation of his upbringing.

“Luciano,” Sebastian began. “Luke,” he corrected himself, “I am not going to commit to this.”

“Don't commit yet, Bash,” his cousin returned the favor. “Just come train with me one hour per night. We'll teach you some techniques – legends, dry cleaning, playback. I can show you some basic fighting maneuvers. Isaac can help perfect your already excellent gun skills. I promise; the decision will remain with you. Just come hang out with your cousin. We haven't seen each other in almost four years.” Luke flashed a huge grin, and Sebastian sighed a laugh.

He had not yet recovered from the news about one cousin. In finding opportunity to spend time with the other, Sebastian somehow felt he could make the error right. Besides, he assured himself, it actually sounds fun.

When Luciano rose from the table, throwing a few bills down to cover their drinks, Sebastian rose with him. “Let's go get some target practice right now,” he leveled, piercing Sebastian with an intense gaze. A moment later, the pair had crossed back over the road and reentered Paul Layne's Ammunition and Weaponry. Whatever happened next, Sebastian expected to learn a lot of things they could never have taught him at Brown.