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Crimson dots appeared on Olga’s shirt.

“Patrick, tell him nothing,” she said through clenched teeth.

Javier started again, a jab between the thumb and index finger, the blade moving with increasing speed over his knuckles to the next open space. “One, two, three, four,” he said with each precise poke at her back.

Watching was painful, but Patrick couldn’t tear his eyes away. The tiny dots, too numerous to count, were merging into one crimson stain. Tears rolled down Olga’s face.

“One, two, three, four.” Jab, jab, jab, jab.

“Enough!” said Patrick.

The shiny blade moved from one position to the next, faster and faster.

“Tell me the code,” said Javier.

“Tell him nothing,” said Olga.

Up and down the blade moved, from one gap to the next, with the speed and precision of a sewing machine. The knife was a blur, the sharp tip a veritable death by a thousand cuts on steroids—until Olga’s scream filled the cabin.

Blood bubbled up through the slit in her shirt, as Javier pulled the red tip of the knife from the flesh wound. The scars Patrick had felt across her back while dancing with Olga were no longer a mystery.

“That one was just a scratch,” said Javier, and then he raised theknife high above Olga’s spine. “On the count of three, the tip of this blade goes through the spine and touches the floor.”

“Don’t tell him!” said Olga.

Javier began his countdown. “One.”

“I swear, I don’t know the code!” said Patrick.

“Two.”

“He’ll stab me anyway!” said Olga.

“And—”

“Okay!” shouted Patrick.

“Okay what?” asked Javier.

Patrick looked at Olga, who was speaking only with her eyes, begging him not to do it. The fact that he might be breaking the law by revealing Buck’s secrets was the furthest thing from his mind. Javier had left him no choice.

“I’ll tell you what to ask for! You’ll get the code!”

Javier lowered his knife. “Wise decision,” he said.

Chapter 44

Kate spent Sunday evening at home. A quiet evening on the roof of her apartment building by the firepit, glass of wine in hand, the moonlight glistening on the river in the distance, would have been nice. Instead, it was her, Noah, and Special Agent Corey Lang of the Hostage Recovery Fusion Cell seated around her dining room table. Kate was in training.

“Rule number one is to be an active listener,” said Lang. “The kidnapper can’t see you. For all he knows, you’re checking text messages while he’s talking. An active listener uses verbal cues to let the caller know she’s listening.”

There were more rules, and Kate listened carefully, though at times she wondered if she was talking to an expert in hostage negotiation or a marriage counselor. By rule number four, she decided it was time to pivot away from how to negotiate with a kidnapper and focus on closing the deal on her arrangement with Noah.

“Where do we stand on getting me the clearance I need?” asked Kate.

Noah and the special agent exchanged glances, as if they’d been hoping that Kate would get so caught up in Hostage Recovery 101 that she wouldn’t raise the subject.

“You’ll have limited clearance,” said Noah.

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