“We think maybe he was being investigated by the DoD, but I don’t know for sure. I’d like to confirm that. I need to track down the other men who were with you at Ahmed’s apartment.”

“I already told you. It was myself, your father, and Yousef.”

“The three soldiers in the street saw you carry those duffel bags of cash,” I say. “Maybe one of them knows something.”

Silence. Ethan looks at me expectantly. I shrug. “Hello?”

“They won’t know anything,” Finn says. “They’re dead. Two died in Iraq, one in the States. Drunk driver.”

Another dead end. No pun intended. “You sure?”

“They were my men,” Finn says quietly but with menace. “I know.”

“Can you tell me Yousef’s last name?” I ask.

“Hassan.”

“Thanks. You’re a big help.”

I swear I can hear Finn grinning on the other end. “You’re the one helping me.”

“Let Tane go,” I say. “He doesn’t have anything to do with any of this.” I agree with Ethan there’s no chance he’ll let Tane go, but I have to make an effort.

There’s another pause. “I’m texting you a video,” Finn says, and just then I hear the bing of an alert on my phone. “Go ahead and watch it while you’re on the line with me.”

I put Finn on speaker, then open the Messages app. There’s one text with a short video attached. Ethan comes to stand next to me. We glance at each other, and then I open the video. It’s Tane, tied to the same chair as before, a blindfold over his eyes and tape over his mouth. The camera is eye level with Tane and stable—if it’s shot on a phone, my guess is the phone’s on a stand. The light is bright and overhead. I can’t make out any specific features of the location, just a blank gray wall in the background.

Finn steps into the camera frame and stands behind Tane’s chair. With his left arm he encircles the top of Tane’s head, immobilizing it. I can’t see any expression on Tane’s face because of the blindfold and the tape over his mouth, but his body stiffens.

Finn raises his right hand. In it is a pair of kitchen shears.

“Oh my God,” Ethan breathes.

“The fuck are you doing?” I shout. “Stop it!”

“I’ve already filmed this,” Finn’s voice says over the speaker. On screen, Finn’s mouth doesn’t move. Still holding Tane’s head still with one arm, Finn raises the shears to Tane’s ear, laying one blade along his earlobe. Tane tries to shout but the tape over his mouth muffles the sound, his cheeks bulging from the effort.

Finn looks up directly into the camera.

“Don’t—” I say.