The breakroom of Dr. Elias's clinic was stark white, smelling of antiseptic and stale coffee. It was designed to be a place of rest for tired nurses. Tonight, it was an interrogation cell.
Ken sat on a plastic chair in the center of the room. His tie was loosened, his glasses were askew, and he was sweating through his pristine white dress shirt.
Standing over him was Kai Vane. The playful, flirtatious information broker was gone. In his place was a man who ran the city's underworld—cold, violent, and devoid of mercy. He held a heavy glass ashtray in his hand, weighing it thoughtfully.
"I'll ask you one more time, Ken," Kai said, his voice terrifyingly conversational. "Who did you call?"
"No one!" Ken cried, his voice cracking. "I swear on my mother's life! I didn't tell anyone where you were going! I drove the decoy car back to the garage just like you asked!"
