Martin Duke looked like a man who had already accepted that something terrible was about to happen to him. Not because he had been caught, but because of who had caught him.
He sat stiffly in the chair across the conference table, his palms pressed flat against his thighs as if he was afraid they might start shaking if he let them move. A thin sheen of sweat clung to his temple despite the cold air in the room.
Clark stood quietly near the door, watching and waiting. The silence stretched long enough to make Duke visibly uncomfortable.
Then I closed the door behind me. The soft click of the lock made him flinch.
Interesting.
I walked toward the table slowly and pulled out the chair opposite him. "You should pray," I said calmly as I sat down, "that the person controlling you is smarter than I am."
Duke swallowed because he understood the implication immediately. "If they're not," I continued, folding my hands loosely on the table, "you just became useless."
