And again I feel like time’s just this big wheel that keeps turning, round and round. For just an instant, I believe I can shut my eyes, then open them again, and I’ll be in the Bulldog with Paco and the rest, about to bust through the gate of the Eighty-Eights’ warehouse. I force Argent’s words—and the strange effects they’ve created in my gut—deep down into the swamp, to deal with later. Strange time to play the psychobabble game, I think ... but then I realize that those few minutes of conversation kept me too busy to get freaked out about the upcoming op. Was that why he did it?