“It’s highly logical. Either Isaac did it and you’re covering for him and hoping for leniency. Or you did do it, in which case I actually do have a score to settle with you— and the way I’m going to take care of that you-owe-me is leaving you with a murder on your conscience. Since you hate collateral damage, it’s going to be a real ass slap.”

“Rothe helped save you. In that dustbowl you nearly killed yourself in.”

Now the guy all but growled: “Don’t give me another reason to come after him.”

Bingo, Jim thought, tightening his grip on the phone. This was his way in, and more important than a who-shot-the-demon showdown.

“Bitter, Matthias. You sound very bitter. You know, you’ve changed.”

“No, I haven’t—”

“Yeah, you have, and you know what? You don’t have the heart for this anymore. Not sure that’s dawned on you yet. But the old Matthias wouldn’t be coming to do this personally. It would be business.”

“Who says I’m on my way?”

“I do. You have to be. You don’t know this either, but you’re being compelled to come here and kill an innocent man.” The silence told him that he was on the right motherfucking trail. “You don’t understand why you have to do it yourself. You don’t understand the way you’re thinking right now. And you know you’re losing control. You’re making choices and doing shit that doesn’t make any sense. But I can give you the whys—it’s because you’re being set up by something you wouldn’t believe in if I told you it existed. It hasn’t totally taken you over yet, though, so there’s still time.”

Jim paused and let that intel settle into his ex-boss’s brain. What Matthias needed was an exorcism, but that required consent. The goal was to get him to the house and go to work on him . . .

And on that note: “It’s that thing you called your second in command. He wasn’t what you think he was, Matthias.” Digging deeper, he pushed. “When he spoke with you, you felt like he made too much sense, right? He influenced you in subtle ways, steering you, always being there when you needed him. It was barely noticeable at first, and then you trusted him, delegated to him, started grooming him as a successor—”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Bull. Shit. I know precisely what’s doing. You really were going to let Isaac come back to XOps, weren’t you. You were going to try to find a way not to kill him. Weren’t you. Matthias . . . ? Matthias, answer the goddamned question.”

Long pause. Then a soft reply: “Yes. I was.”

“And you didn’t tell your number two that—because you know that he would have changed your mind.”