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Patrick could almost feel her reluctance to answer.

“Right,” she said in a weak voice.

“At the moment, I have a very unhappy customer. But we’re going to fix that. Right, Olga?”

“Whatever you say,” she said.

“Exactly. WhateverIsay. So listen to me, El Rubio. Listen good. I know you and this Sandra Levy tried to steal some kind of computer code from Buck Technologies.”

“That’s not true.”

Javier grabbed him by the throat. “Are you calling my customer a liar? Because a hostage is in no position to call anyone names. Got it?”

“Yes.”

He released his grip. “It’s the hostagetakerwho does the name-calling. Do you know what you are?”

The guy who is going to kill you the first chance he gets, was Patrick’s first thought. But he kept it to himself.

“You, El Rubio, are a computer geek. Which is a good thing. Because I am not a computer geek.”

Javier seemed to be waiting for a response of some sort, but Patrickdidn’t want to say the wrong thing—something that would get him or Olga hurt. “Okay,” he said tentatively. “But I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

“Then you’re the stupidest computer geek ever. Let me spell it out. You are being held for ransom. The ransom is code. To be honest, I can’t even begin to understand that code, much less explain it or describe it to Kate Gamble when I make my ransom demand. That’s a problem, right?”

“It could be,” said Patrick.

“Good answer, El Rubio. It could be. But it’s not. Because youcandescribe it. And you will.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Javier took a step back, his eyes narrowing with anger. “Seriously? That’s your answer? I make a simple request. I want the code that you and Sandra Levy tried to steal from Buck Technologies. And you’re telling me you have no idea what I’m talking about. Is that really where we are?”

“I didn’t try to steal anything. And I don’t know what code Sandra Levy was trying to steal.”

“We’ll see about that,” said Javier. He walked to the counter, pulled a hunting knife from his knapsack, and returned to the hostages. With a flick of the blade, the cord that bound Olga’s wrists to the pole was severed.

“On your belly,” he told her.

Olga complied, but it didn’t suit Javier.

“Over there,” he said, “so El Rubio can see.”

She slid on hands and knees to the other side of the pole and then lay flat on her stomach, just beyond the reach of Patrick’s feet.

Javier knelt beside her, away from Patrick, so that Olga lay between the two men. Then he placed his left hand flat on her back, palm down and fingers outstretched. The knife was in his right hand.

“Remember this, El Rubio?”

Patrick swallowed hard. Of course he remembered Javier’s insanedisplay of machismo on Day 1 in the mountains—his hand on the stump and the rapidtap-tap-tapof the tip of the blade between his fingers.

“I told you: I don’t know the code,” said Patrick.

“If I do this just right, it should feel like a pinprick,” Javier said. He placed the tip between his thumb and index finger.

Olga flinched, as if jabbed by a needle.

“Perfect.” He moved the tip to the space between the index and middle finger, then between the middle and ring finger. Up and down once more between the ring and pinkie finger.

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