Rohan jerked the sake back so sharply that alcohol sloshed onto the white linen tablecloth. I blotted it up, grateful for something that would keep my head down and not reveal how all the color had drained from my face.

"You know him?" Mahmud asked.

"Not personally," Rohan said. "Heard he died."

"Yeah. While we were still in Pakistan. Car crash outside L.A."

"Demons?" I asked.

"Don't think so."

Rohan was staring at his plate, his tuna ...