He shuddered and pulled the towel off again. Otets sucked in a deep, rattling breath. Small flecks of blood came with his exhalation; he’d bitten his tongue.
“We both know,” Otets sputtered, “I will not leave this cabin alive.”
“Maybe not,” said Reid. “But we have hours until morning. We can do this over and over and over. And this can get far, far worse. You will tell me what I want to know. It’s up to you how long that takes.”
Otets gulped and winced. He gazed at the ceiling. He was thinking—and Reid knew that even if he was a killer, even if he was a terrorist, there was still a logical man in there. He knew Reid was right.
“Yuri used the word ‘conglomerate,’” Reid said calmly. “What did he mean by that?”
Otets said nothing. Reid motioned with the towel again.
“Wait!” he cried out
