She stared at him in a way that was deeply unnerving. But Nash had no time to let this intimidate him. This was a negotiation, and whether you were haggling over money or property—or your life—the principal framework remained the same: Your position was only as strong as what you could offer in return.
“So?” she said, no longer appearing to be in a meditative mood.
“Well, as you can understand, I’m sure, that matters to me and my boss.”
“Once you stepped on my plane, Mr. Hope, you put yourself under my complete control. You do not strike me as a stupid or rash man, quite the opposite, so surely you know this. There is nothing you can say or do that will influence me one way or the other. I think you came here to negotiate. But one needs at least a single card in their hand to do that.” She eyed his empty ones. “You clearly lack that.”
This next part was tricky, and Nash had to play it to absolute perfection or he might not walk out of this room alive.
“I believe, if you think about it, Ms. Steers, there is a flaw in your plan.”
“Such as?” she demanded sharply.
“Wedohave some control over the process. And if certain events occur, we will have more still.”
“What events?”
But Nash had already risen from the lotus position and was now staring down at her. It actually felt good to be looking down on the woman who had had his daughter kidnapped and then murdered.
Deep breaths, Nash. Four in, hold for four, four out, hold for four. Repeat. Your chance will come to avenge Maggie.
This was a breathing technique his father had taught him when, as a child, Nash had been riddled with anxiety. The technique almost always worked, and it did at this moment as well.
He said calmly, “It would be foolish on my part, you would agree, if I were to explain in greater detail. Otherwise, you would immediately work to correct this flaw.” He bowed. “I wish you a good night, Ms. Steers.”
He turned and walked to the door, where the two men escorted him back to his apartment. He lay in his bed and stared at that ceiling painted seafoam green, wondering if what he had just done had worked. Or had sealed his and Temple’s deaths.
It might be both. And maybe I’m okay with that so long as Victoria Steers goes down, too. So next time you have the chance to kill her, for God’s sake take it.
CHAPTER
8
THE NEXT MORNING THEY WEREsummoned to a room where Steers stood in front of a laptop with a projection screen hanging on the wall behind it. She motioned them to chairs.
“I am now going to explain the logistics of the mission to you.”
She picked up a remote and clicked a button. An image appeared on the screen: It was video of a prison complex seen from an overhead shot.
“This is the facility where my mother is being held. It is roughly halfway between the towns of Katha and Bhamo, the latter of which is only forty miles from the Chinese border. Katha is in the Sagaing Region, while Bhamo is located in the Kachin State. Both towns lie along the Irrawaddy River.”
“Who operates the prison?” asked Nash, his eyes on the double security fences, concrete block walls, armed sentries, and guard dogs set against a flattened landscape with absolutely no cover.
“I told you before that that is irrelevant,” Steers said severely.
“Okay, how do we get there?” asked Nash.
“As is obvious, you must first get into the country. Once inside, travel for foreigners is. . .difficult, as I mentioned before.”
Steers hit the remote and another screen appeared; she pointed to a spot on it.
“Myanmar is bordered on the northeast by China, but it shares a border on the northwestwith India and Bangladesh.” She glanced at Temple. “Which answers your confusion about only China being to the north of Myanmar. There are two official border crossings through India that are open and do not require permits for foreign travelers.” She tapped two spots on the screen. “Tamu and Moreh there, and Rikhawdar and Zokhawthar to the south, there. Moreh is considered the gateway to Southeast Asia and is the main point of exporting goods from India to Myanmar. You would traverse the Friendship Bridge at that point.”
“But we don’t want to enter at an official border crossing, do we?” asked Nash.
She glanced at him again, her expression unreadable. “No. Besides other problems, you receive only a day pass and must return by four thirty. Thus, neither Moreh nor the other location will work.”
She clicked the remote and another picture came up.
