"Look," Magruder said, turning the full force of his glare on Emerson. "You’re not dealing with some cracker hippie here, okay? When this blows over you can sneak back to your spook warren in Atlanta, but I’ll still be down here trying to make a go of a city on the fucking ropes! It’s not the press that scares me—it’s the cops! Global cops, too—not the locals, I can deal with them. I don’t want to go down on their bad-boy list with the data-haven mafiosi. So do I need you using my island for your clapped-out shenanigans? No, ma’am, I don’t."