The man wound up again, and this time the bat connected with Nir’s right knee. From his thighs down to his calves, he legs contorted in hideous cramps. The soldier changed his angle, and the bat slammed against Nir’s left ankle. His teeth clenched, and his respiratory rate skyrocketed. Thankfully, he had only heard thwack but no crack. As long as he had no broken bones, he still had a chance of walking off this boat.

The soldier tried to line up for the right ankle, but he wasn’t able to get the proper trajectory. Another of the soldiers stepped up and took the bat. He held it like a lefty and swung. Nir moaned.

“And now it’s time to begin,” said the man in the smock. He picked up what looked like a dental pick with a sharp hook on the end and walked toward Nir. “Don’t tell the general what he wants to know quite yet, though. I’m finally all set up, and I so very much enjoy what I do.”

Chapter 58

CHAPTER 58

17:25 / 5:25 P.M. IST

Saad turned and walked out. This was not the kind of man he was, and this was not what his boat was for. The screams followed him down the hall until the elevator doors closed

He rode up two levels to the salon. Immediately upon entering, he said, “Play Schubert.” The flute introduction of Franz Schubert’s Symphony No. 5 in B-Flat Major surrounded him. Soon the strings joined in and began to drive away the echoes of the wailing man. He poured himself two fingers of Blanton’s bourbon and drank it down neat.

Refilling his glass, he ambled toward one of his two new Marcos paintings. While the Marilyn certainly had pop and sexiness to it, he found himself more and more intrigued by the fruit bowl. It was a Latin American take on the old classic. The bowl was painted with some sort of colorful Mestizo design, and it was filled with dragon fruit, tamarillos, loquats, and other produce whose names he had not yet taken time to look up.

How did I let this happen on my boat? he asked himself as he stared at the piece of art. I blink my eyes, and suddenly it is an armed vessel with a man being tortured in the hold. This is not who I am. I pay for the guns; I don’t pull the triggers.

Downing the second drink, he placed the glass on an end table, then moved to his favorite chair and sat. They need to go. Tomorrow at the latest. Do not back down. All ties with Kamal must be cut.

He wasn’t sure what to do about Mousavi. The general was a vital connection into the Tehran regime. Once this is all over and his emotions are calm, we’ll have to have a serious conversation about what can and cannot happen on this boat.