Page 136 of The Enemy Protector
“Petrov will be here shortly. Nelson is picking him up.”
“Good. I’ll be back in ten.”
I leave the room and head upstairs. The meal I ordered is sitting on the kitchen island. I open the bag, pull out the container of linguine, bread and steamed veggies and grab a fork.
I carry it up to our room. She’s in bed. The bedside lamp is on, but she’s passed out.
I watch her sleep for several seconds. The bruise on her cheek already making itself known. Sleep is what she needs.
I take the meal back to the kitchen and put it in the fridge.
When I return to the basement, Kirill is still in the security room.
“The body?” I ask.
“Being processed. We’ll have an ID within the hour. Dental records, fingerprints, the works.”
“Yuri sent him.”
“Probably.”
“I’m going to kill him,” I say. “Slowly.”
“I know.”
There’s a loud commotion.
Kirill grins. “Our guest has arrived.”
I walk through the basement to the far corner where I built the interrogation room. It’s soundproof. Reinforced. No windows. No cameras. What happens in there stays in there.
Nelson is just finishing securing Petrov to the chair bolted to the center of the room. He looks up when I enter. I see the fear in his eyes. Good. He should be afraid.
I close the door behind me. The lock engages with a heavy click.
“Mr. Sokolov,” he starts. “I can explain?— “
“Don’t.” I move to the table against the wall where I keep my tools. “You’re going to tell me everything. Who paid you? How much. What the plan was. Every detail. And then I’m going to decide how long you get to live.”
Nelson leans against the wall, arms crossed. Kirill stands in front of the door.
I pick up a pair of pliers. Turn them over in my hand. “These are for lies. Every time you lie to me, I take a finger. You have ten fingers. Do the math.”
He’s sweating now. “Mr. Sokolov, please?— “
“Who paid you?”
Silence.
I cross the room in three strides. Grab his left hand. The pliers close around his pinky finger.
“Wait! Wait!” He’s crying now. “It was Yuri! Yuri Baranov!”
I release the pressure slightly. “How much?”
“Hundred thousand. Half up front, half when?—"
“When what?”
