Taz laughed. “See, I told you.”

“I think the best way I’ve heard it described is like this,” Carter continued. “Imagine that you were suddenly dropped into a culture far different from ours. Somewhere like China or North Korea or India. Then imagine how exhausting it would be trying to live and work and socialize in that vastly different and many times ‘alien’ world. That’s what it’s like for August Burke every day, and while he’s developed coping techniques to function in our broken and often frightening world, on the inside, I don’t know that it will ever get better for him. I know that he wouldn’t change his brain if given the choice, but make no mistake, his ability to think outside the box comes at a steep price. And he pays that price every time he steps out into our world.”

Chapter 24

Isabel fought for a solution, a way to fight back, to turn the tables. But she couldn’t imagine a scenario that didn’t end in death. The Australian had left her alone in the room Felix Ginger had referred to as “the interrogation room.” Foam padding lined the walls, and the floor was some kind of thick epoxy with a drain in the center. The smell of bleach was so strong it burned her eyes. She didn’t want to think about the kinds of things that had been done to former occupants of this room, but secured to a metal chair that was bolted to the floor, she had little else to do but allow her imagination to run wild. Maybe that was the point. Maybe they were just trying to scare her. Or maybe the big Australian was sharpening his toys and slipping into an all-leather jumpsuit.

The room was lit with only a small yellow bulb in the corner, and so the light stung her eyes when the door opened.

The handsome Australian pulled up a chair in front of her and said, “They call me Mr. Christopher. May I call you Isabel?”

She spit in his face.

He laughed as he wiped it away. “I know you have lots of fire and heart, but do you have a brain in that pretty skull of yours?”

“Why did you bring me back here? Who do you work for?”

Christopher didn’t respond. Instead, he pulled out his phone, dialed a number, and sat the device on his thigh. The phone’s display was lit, and the caller ID read “M.”

“Who’s on the phone? Is that your boss? Who are you?”

“If you value your life and those of your partner Dingani and his family, then you’ll drop the hard-ass routine and start answering questions instead of asking them,” Christopher said.

She said nothing.

“Good. Now, tell me why you’re doing all this?”

“I’m trying to find whoever is responsible for the massacre. My sources on the street told me that a mercenary named Kruger was involved, and Angel has information on where to find him.”