Then something else changed. They went down a ramp and something about the sounds told him they weren’t outside at all. Then more turns, and a stop, and the soldiers were moving, and he was being shoved out, and led down a hallway of concrete, and through doors, and more doors, and into an elevator, and then out.

And into somewhere quieter, more hushed. It felt different under his feet.

Hands guided him, turned him, propelled him, stopped him, propelled him again.

Then suddenly his wrists were being tugged at. There was a clicking, a second click, and the restraints were off. Someone pushed him, almost gently, and he fell into a chair. Someone else tugged at the hood and it came away.

He was in an ornately decorated room, sitting, facing a carved wooden door in a gold-gilt frame.

I’m not dead, he realized.

Then the door opened. A massive man in a grey suit entered, then a second. They moved into the room, their faces masks, their eyes scanning.

Behind them came a small, grey haired woman in an elaborate green silk sari.

Kade’s face recognition app flashed text next to her. He ignored it.

He didn’t need its help to recognize Ayesha Dani, Prime Minister of India.

Kade pushed himself to his feet, nearly groaning as pain hit him again.

The PM stepped forward until she was just feet away from him. The top of her head came to his chin. There was a piece of paper in her right hand.

“You told one of my most trusted advisors to ‘fuck off’,” she said. He voice was the voice of authority. A voice you listened to. Her pronunciation was precise, accented, but somehow more perfect in her use of English than most Americans ever managed. “Why?”

Because he’s an asshole, Kade thought to himself.

He blinked, fought to adjust to this very different situation. “I needed to…” He wracked his exhausted brain for the right words. “…convey to Secretary Aggarwal the… depth of my convictions on this issue,” he said. “I didn’t feel I’d… gotten through to him.” He paused. “Before that… point of emphasis.”

She studied him. He could see her eyes taking him in, taking his measure in some fundamental way he didn’t understand. “You can help our children learn faster.” It was a statement, not a question.

Kade took a slow breath in through his nose. They had to start this the right way.

“Honestly,” he told her. “You can do that yourselves, with Nexus, without me.”

The Prime Minister held up the paper, flapped it in Kade’s face. At this distance he could see roman letters on it. English words.

“Then these conditions of yours,” she said. “Why should I agree to any of them?”

Kade’s eyes moved from the paper back to Ayesha Dani’s eyes.