He’s beginning to flag, Knowles thought.

It was not by much. But it might be enough to make a split second’s difference. To someone with Knowles’ training and experience, that split second could be all that mattered.

Or so Knowles hoped.

His eyes moved back to Cunningham, in time to notice him glance at his phone and disconnect whoever had been calling.

Third time in an hour, Knowles noted. He’s keeping the line clear. He’s waiting for news.

‘You need to take that call, Kelvin?’ Knowles tone was light. Mocking. He was determined to appear confident. ‘Don’t let me stop you.’

Cunningham looked up sharply. He seemed surprised by the comment. The reaction of a man who had been deep in thought.

‘You didn’t,’ Cunningham replied, his voice bitter. ‘You need to stop thinking of yourself as relevant.’

Knowles smiled. It was a petty answer, designed to sting. The kind of barb usually beneath Cunningham. It confirmed Knowles’ suspicions.

He’s nervous. He’s very nervous.

The president rose to his feet.

‘Where are you going?’ Cunningham demanded.

‘I’ve been sitting for seven hours straight,’ Knowles replied. ‘I need to stretch my legs.’

‘I’d get used to that if I were you. No room for walks in a prison cell.’

‘Maybe. But I’m not there yet, am I?’

Cunningham looked to Meyer, who replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

‘OK. Keep it brief.’

Knowles smiled to himself at the instruction. He was far beyond taking orders from Kelvin Cunningham. The hold over him was gone. Tootkai had been activated. One way or another Knowles’ presidency would soon be at an end.

Other than the gun in Jack Meyer’s hand, Knowles had no reason to ever obey Cunningham again.

Knowles moved slowly around his desk. He made a show of stretching his limbs and his lower back. They were sore, he had to admit. For a man who had once remained motionless in a Borneo jungle for four days, the realisation was a little disappointing.

He came closer to Jack Meyer and noticed the dark rings under the man’s eyes. A reminder of the tiredness Knowles had already seen. But was it enough? Before the president was within six feet, Meyer had straightened up and redoubled his grip on his pistol.

Tired or not, he was still alert.

Knowles noted the reaction before turning his attention back to Cunningham.

Another glance at his watch.

‘What’s the matter, Kelvin?’ Knowles forced himself to sound amused. An intentional effort to irritate Cunningham. To force a mistake. ‘Things not going to plan?’

Cunningham glanced upwards. If he was nervous, he didn’t show it. His reply came in an instant.

‘Don’t get your hopes up. You’ll still be in a cell by the morning. If you’re lucky.’

Knowles smiled. The first direct threat of his death. Cunningham was worried.

And Knowles was about to find out why.

One of the two hidden doors that led to the White House Office opened without a knock. All three men turned at the familiar sound as the bottom of the door breezed against the thick carpet.