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the politicians? They’ll stab you in the back without a second thought, then sue you for getting blood on their knife. Watch your six in here, soldier.”

Miller said nothing. He focused on not feeling intimidated as he guided them along the winding, narrow road, which was patrolled by Palugan soldiers. Up ahead, large gates stood open, and the outline of the palace gradually came into focus beyond. Up close, the building looked impressive. It was a mixture of Indian, Mediterranean, and Western architecture, accented with glass and gold. The result was a building that was somewhere between the White House and the Taj Mahal, combining both artistic styles without ever attaining the full grandeur of either one.

Jericho tensed his jaw muscles, preparing himself mentally. He wished he had Julie and Collins with him. He hated diplomacy.

5

They rolled into the large, gravel courtyard of the palace, following the curve formed by the large water fountain in the middle. They stopped outside the steps leading up to the entrance. Jericho and Miller climbed out of the vehicle and stared at the building.

“It’s bigger than I expected,” said Miller.

“Have you not been here before?” inquired Jericho.

“I’ve been in the country almost a week but never this far north. Only ever seen this place from a distance.” He paused, gazing around the courtyard. “It’s big.”

Jericho nodded. The main building was enormous and flanked on either side by smaller wings that bordered the courtyard. Constructed from a mixture of smooth concrete and off-white marble, the whole place looked more royal than presidential.

What caught Jericho’s eye, however, was not the impressive architecture but the number of armed soldiers patrolling the grounds and the canopied balconies above.

They climbed the steps. At the top, they were greeted by a man with thick, dark hair and a smooth complexion. He wore a tailored suit and a politician’s smile.

“You must be Mr. Stone,” said the man. “Thank you for coming.”

“Well, we’re being paid to be here, so we couldn’t exactly say no, right?” Jericho flashed a smile to emphasize his attempt at humor but got no reaction. He switched tactics. “And you are?”

The man extended his hand. “Raul Montez. President Herrera’s chief of staff.”

Jericho shook it, trying to hide his involuntary wince at the dampness of the man’s palm.

“Pleasure,” he said, casually wiping his hand on his leg. “Is the president ready for us now?”

Montez nodded. “He is. This way, please.”

He turned on his heels and strode back inside the palace. Jericho and Miller followed. Inside, artwork hung on the walls and chandeliers dangled from the high ceilings. The floor was stone tile, polished without being slippery underfoot.

“This place would look great on MTV Cribs,” whispered Miller.

“Is that still a thing?” asked Jericho.

Miller shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. I haven’t watched MTV since they stopped playing music on it.”

Jericho smiled to himself as they walked on. They followed Montez up a large flight of stairs and headed left, along an open corridor. It led to a wide space, like an entrance hall. Two more corridors branched off. One continued into the left wing of the palace. Montez led them along the other, which took them further inside the main building.

The military presence inside was even greater than Jericho had seen from the courtyard.

“The president’s office is just up ahead,” announced Montez.

They stopped outside a large set of double doors made from mahogany. Stationed on either side was an armed soldier, dressed in what Jericho assumed was the Palugan military’s formal attire. It was similar to U.S. Marine dress blues, fitted and adorned with medals.

Montez turned to face them. “Mr. Stone, I will have to ask that your colleague remains outside. As I’m sure you can understand, we are limiting access to the president at the moment. He is welcome to wait outside.”

Jericho turned to Miller. “Nobody else in or out until you see me. Understood?”

Miller nodded.

Montez smiled. “There is no need for such measures, Mr. Stone. You are surrounded by the finest our military has to offer, all loyal to President Herrera. We are quite safe.”

“If you believed that, I wouldn’t be here,” countered Jericho. “At GlobaTech, we take our job seriously. I have no reason to doubt the capabilities of your men, but I don’t know them. I trust my people. I’m sure you’re right—everything is perfectly fine. But if we’re wrong and a horde of disgruntled citizens suddenly storms the gates, my men will protect your president or die trying, regardless of who else is here.”

Montez held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. “I… I apologize, Mr. Stone. Of course, we appreciate your professionalism. It’s why you were brought here, after all.”

“No problem. This is a difficult time for your country. We just want to help.”

Montez opened the doors and gestured Jericho through. He followed him inside and closed them again behind him.

The room looked more like the library of a country mansion than a president’s office. Bookcases lined both long walls of the rectangular room. The carpet was a deep crimson. The wall ahead featured the Palugan flag, framed and mounted on display. On either side, large windows provided plenty of natural light. A wide desk stood in front of it. Behind it sat President Herrera.

He stood as Jericho approached and moved around the desk to greet him. He was not quite as tall as Jericho but above average height. His mottled, olive skin hung loosely on his face, betraying his age and worries. He wore a suit and tie.

Jericho extended his hand. “Mr. President, it’s an honor to meet you.”

Herrera shook it graciously. “Mr. Stone, welcome to my country. Please take a seat. Can I offer you a drink?”

“I’d prefer to stand, sir,” he said. “It was a long drive and a longer flight. But I’ll take some water. Thank you.”

Herrera looked past him to Montez and nodded. Jericho heard the doors open and close behind him but didn’t look around.

Herrera moved back behind his desk and fell heavily back into the chair.

“These are…

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