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on him. King seized him by the shirt, spun him around like he weighed nothing, and threw him toward the opposite wall. Parker bounced off a couple of the crates and collapsed in a sobbing heap.

King reached between the same slats and extracted a fresh, clean Beretta M9.

Loaded.

Ready to fire.

He pinched it between two fingers and held it up for Slater to see, like it was evidence at a crime scene. ‘See?’

Slater nodded. ‘Now we have a gun.’

‘Yes,’ King said, turning to Parker. ‘We do.’

Parker moaned and said, ‘I think you broke my back.’

‘No,’ King said. ‘We threw you around a couple of times. You might have a few bruises. You’re not used to pain, are you, Aidan?’

Parker went pale.

Slater stepped forward, boot by boot, placing his feet right near Parker’s unprotected face.

He said, ‘You sit behind a desk and think you know what people like us go through. It’s delusional, sure, but I guess it explains why you made the decisions you made. Because you didn’t think about the repercussions.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Parker said. ‘Where’s my daughter?’

‘We’ll get to that later. But whatever happened to her … you should know it was your fault. You should carry that with you forever.’

Parker looked up, and there were tears in his eyes. ‘What are you saying? Are you saying she’s—?’

‘I’m not saying anything. All you know is that she’s not here right now. What you should be focusing on is the answers to the questions we’re about to ask you.’

‘I don’t know what you’re on about,’ he said, talking fast to try and defuse the situation. ‘I haven’t done anything. You have the wrong information. You—’

‘Shhhh,’ King hissed.

Parker looked up. ‘Please, guys, I’m—’

King raised both hands in innocence. ‘Don’t look at me. I’m not the one who figured it out. That was all Slater’s work. So he’s going to ask you the questions.’

King stepped back.

Slater stepped forward, and crouched down by Parker’s cowering form. ‘If you had to guess, Aidan, how many insurgents do you think we killed over the last few days?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘I told you to guess.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. What insurgents?’

‘You know.’

‘I told you both already, I’m—’

Slater turned to King. ‘How long do you think it’s going to take him to realise?’

King shrugged.

‘Realise what?’ Parker said.

Slater turned back. ‘Sooner or later you’re going to figure out that your best bet is to be honest with us. We know exactly what you did. We know why you did it. We know how firmly you’re going to try to deny it. But no amount of whining or pleading or begging is going to get you out of it, and hours are going to pass, and we’re still going to be here in this room with you, and no one will come to help. Eventually you’re going to cave in. The only question is whether it’s going to be now, or in a few hours, or in a few days. And there’s a lot we can do to you in that time.’

The silence was ominous.

Slater said, ‘Be honest with us, Aidan. It won’t hurt your chances. You’re in deep shit regardless.’

Parker’s upper lip quivered, but he didn’t respond.

He stared a thousand yard stare, directly into the cold concrete beneath him.

Then he raised his gaze and said, ‘What happened to my daughter?’

‘She died,’ Slater said. ‘Because you got greedy and thought it would all go off without a hitch. Because you wanted power. Because you put your own child in harm’s way to advance your political career.’

What little blood was left in Parker’s face drained away completely.

He turned white as a ghost.

Guilt settled over him in a cloud.

When he lifted his eyes again, Slater knew he would confess to everything.

He was broken.

Slater said, ‘How many insurgents do you think we killed for you, Aidan?’

‘Probably dozens.’

‘And that was the plan all along, wasn’t it?’

Parker hesitated, realising if he responded it would be his first admittance of guilt.

But the walls were already crashing down around him.

He had nothing left.

Silently, he nodded.

86

Slater said, ‘Confirm everything I’m about to tell you. And don’t even think about trying to cover anything up. If I’m wrong, correct me. If I’m right, tell me. Understand?’

Parker nodded.

He didn’t look up.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the floor.

Slater said, ‘Planning a future push for president as an unknown candidate is going to require at least a couple of billion dollars in campaign spend, right?’

A nod.

‘Because nobody knows who you are. You’re not a known politician in the public sphere, and you’re not a celebrity. So you need to go all out to get the American people on board. Which creates the need for donors.’

A nod.

‘Most donors are big businessmen. They have their hands in many different pies. Some of them are, among other things, special risks insurers. They keep a tight grip on the global kidnapping market to make sure everything is running smoothly. Our handler already briefed us on the details of that particular industry. There’s middlemen who are in communication with the kidnappers themselves, to make sure no one goes overboard with their ransom demands. That keeps everyone profitable. The kidnappers make money through successful ransom payments, and the insurers make money by receiving more from their clients than they have to pay out.’

A nod.

‘But there was a slight problem. Someone in Nepal of all places had figured out how to exploit the system. An Indian man named Mukta, who used to be a Naxalite insurgent, figured out that there was a neat opportunity there. Because negotiations had to go smoothly with these firms, or there was no point taking out special risks insurance in the first place. It had to be a guaranteed transaction, which made the firms more likely to actually make the payments, and less likely to fret over the details. So, as soon as he figured out the script to get paid every single time, he started snatching foreigners left and right and siphoning huge ransom payments out of

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