Hotak sat up, put his arms around his legs, and shook his head at them with an amused smile.

The smile infuriated Mike.

Niki reached across and slapped him. She sat back and grimaced, holding her bad arm.

Hotak put his hand to his face. “You’ll pay for that.”

Tom laughed. “How are you going to do that from prison.” Sobering, he glanced at Mike. “Or the morgue.”

Hotak examined Tom like he was a dense child. “Is that what you think?”

“I know you’ll be dead in the next couple of minutes. Or you’ll be at Gitmo spilling your guts, telling the interrogators everything they want to know.”

“That isn’t what will happen. I will talk to your government, make a deal, and be home by dinner. I have vast amounts of incriminating information on government officials around the world. This includes some of your most powerful and corrupt members of Congress. I will never spend a day near a prison cell, alone in one.”

“That’s bull.” Tom raised his finger toward the backpack next to Julia. “I’m sure there’s plenty of good old fashioned evidence in there about that smallpox shit. Once we get to the CIA station, you'll be on the next thing smoking to Gitmo. No lawyers, no politicians, no one will know you're wearing an orange jumpsuit in Cuba. They'll interrogate you and determine what you’ve done and what your plans are. It won't matter what kind of info you think you have on some asshole politicians. They'll be happy to know you’re locked up and are never coming out again. The stuff in that bag is probably enough to keep you on ice for the next hundred years. You'll spend the rest of your life in a deep, dark hole.”

“Really? As for the bag, what do you believe you have?” Hotak gloated. “Everything, the research, the testing, everything, was sent to the Czech Republic. Operations closed down well before you arrived here. You ransacked my office and got what? What you have is some very minor information concerning my business. Nothing more.”

“That’s crap. You wouldn’t let that info out of your sight.” Tom judged Hotak’s face and his body language. A slight sense of doubt entered Tom’s thoughts.

“Oh?” He turned his head and caught Mike’s expression. His smug grin dropped. He turned back. “There’s nothing in that bag that can help you.” His tone turned deadly. “Take me to someone who has some authority. This conversation is over.”

“You think so? Because I thought it was just getting started.” Tom regarded the crewman. The man had taken everything in but had remained stoic and still. “Get on that phone and tell the pilots we’re opening the door. We have some trash to throw out.”

The man complied and opened the door. It wasn’t the first time he or the pilots had heard a similar order working for Hotak. As long as they were well paid, they looked the other way.

Hot air rushed into the cabin. Below the ground passed by flat and brown hills and mountains full of pine trees. In the distance, a gray river meandered across the landscape.

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“You can tell us everything now or...” Tom’s hand made a diving motion out the door.

Hotak scratched his nose casually, his eyes on Tom. “I’ll tell you nothing. In twenty-four hours, I’ll be free, and all of you will be as dead,” his thumb pointed to Niki, “as that bitches father.” He laughed, his face filled with contempt.

“Shut up, or I’ll kill you myself.” Niki rose but sat back down with Mike’s hand on her.

“My men tell me it was pathetic. The great fighter of the Jihad, the killer of an untold number of Russians. He died begging for his life, tears soaking the ground. The women in the compound died with more dignity than he did.”

Niki pushed Mike’s hand away and fell on Hotak, knocking him back. She slammed her fist into his face, screaming at him and pounding Hotak with what little energy she had left.

Hotak defended himself with one arm. The other sneaked under his vest and pulled a Glock from his shoulder holster. The gun was between him and the woman. He fired and kicked her off.

“No!” Mike raised his pistol and shot Hotak in the shoulder. The Glock bounced out the door.

Niki’s body teetered on the edge, her head and shoulders hanging into nothingness.

Julia jumped up and pulled her back in.

“Not again.” Rage ignited in him like he’d never felt before. It struggled to take over as Mike pointed his pistol square at Hotak’s head. “Not again.”

Hotak looked outside and then at the man over him. “Think about the people you’ll save with the information I have.”

“No.” Mike braced his hands on the ceiling.

“Mike, she’s still alive.”

The pistol shook in his hand, the fury so intense he had to put both hands on the gun to steady it.

“Think about what you’re doing. I’m important; I have secrets I can share.”

“No.” Mike stomped down, driving his heel into Hotak’s gut. “Die!” Mike’s primal scream erupted from deep down, an uncivilized wail drawn from the depths of his soul. The act of striking out made him angrier. He kicked again.

“Don’t do this. She’s alive. You don’t have to do this.”

Mike lifted his leg again.

Somewhere in Hotak's mind, he recognized he might die. He hadn't felt that feeling since the Russians invaded Afghanistan. With his one good arm, he tried to fight back.

Mike kicked him again.

Hotak’s hands latched onto the door frame, his feet wedged between the door and the helicopter’s side. “Don’t, I’m begging you.”

Mike kicked him in the face. Hotak’s bad leg fell out into the open sky. Mike kicked him again and again. Hotak slid closer to the edge with each impact. Mike stopped and stood over him. For a flash of time, they stared at each other through the hate Hotak’s eyes pleaded with him to stop. Mike could almost feel the other man's fear radiating up. Another second passed. Behind the fear, Hotak’s loathing stuck Mike's senses. He couldn’t hide it even now. Another second. The wrinkles around Hotak's eyes relaxed. Another second. Hotak thought he was going to win.

He knew his truth was more likely to happen than Tom's version. Mike saw it all. Another second. A man this powerful and wealthy. He'd seen it before money trumping policy, the law, even the truth. Mike watched Hotak relax. He knew. Mike clenched his teeth, drew his leg back, and kicked Hotak in the face. Hotak’s grasp on the edge of the door frame relaxed for only a second, then Hotak lost his grip and his balance and tumbled out screaming.

Their eyes met as he slid out. Mike jumped to the door, firing his pistol at hotak as he fell. The slide stopped the pistol empty, and he threw it at the falling man, then watched as Hotak hit the ground.

Levering himself back, he slowly faced the crewman. “Is there a first aid kit in here?”

“I’ll get it.” The crewman jumped up and slammed the door in case he was next.

The crewman handed the kit to Tom and sat down, trying to get small and unnoticed.

“Uh,” Tom said. “I was only trying to intimidate him.”

Mike kneeled on the other side of Niki to help. “It didn’t work. I gave him something else to think about.”

“What if Hotak was telling the truth? What if the smallpox info isn’t in the stuff we got?”

Mike didn't look up. “What if it isn’t?”