CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“So, Mr. Kellington. Are you ready to talk to me?”
Govender sat behind his desk—trying to hide his fading hairline with his hands. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk.
“Come on. You’ll find that I’m not an unreasonable man. I know you don’t belong here. And yet here you are. You see, unlike the men out there—no one even knows you’re here. There are no lawyers fighting on your behalf. No one’s coming to visit you. No one’s coming to rescue you. For all intents and purposes, you might as well be dead.”
Kellington breathed in and out, still not saying a word. He was finally out of his disgusting clothes and into one of their darling orange composites.
“But your mistreatment can end right now. All you have to do is talk to me. Who are you working for?”
