Don't Leave Me (18 page)

“You must approach him in just the right way,” Steven Kovak said. “You understand that, don’t you?”

“Of course,” said the doctor. Yang Jing’s practice was confined to Kovak and his own family and staff. He was well paid for this. He was well paid because he was good, and because he could keep his mouth shut. He had come recommended by Zepkic, and been trained and scared into submission by Zepkic, too. He was small and tidy, a graduate of the medical college at Chenzhou, and at fifty retained a slight, Chinese accent.

Despite his experience, Jing did not know as much of about the workings of the mind as Kovak did. This was Kovak’s own assessment, based upon his years of breaking the will of prisoners.

“The questions must be softly posed,” Kovak explained.

“Perhaps you should be the one,” Jing said. He was wearing his usual suit and tie, which always impressed Kovak. Would that more professional people did that in America. It was a discipline that was breaking down.

“No,” Kovak said, offering Jing more tea from the service on the table in the atrium of his home.

Jing put up his hand. “No thank you very much, sir.”

“You’ve administered thiopental how many times?”

“At least a dozen, sir.”

“With interrogation?”

“Only once, last year, with you. You also questioned the subject, I forgot his name.”

“His name is best forgotten,” Kovak said. “He no longer exists.”

Jing nodded.

“You must understand context,” Kovak said. “I am going to give you all the information you need so that you can question him in detail. And you will never talk of this again, after this night, on pain of death. Is that clear?”

Jing’s Adam’s Apple bobbed up and down. “I am ready to take notes.”

Kovak crossed his legs and steepled his fingers. “He was a Navy chaplain, working with a unit of the Marines. This was in the same region where I began. And through hard work and enterprise, my partners and I put together several boxes of gold and international currencies, worth at least ninety million dollars. That is, as they used to say in America, a lot of hay. This was stolen from us, and we had information and belief that it was a traitor working with an American soldier named Dylan Bly, who was operating in what they would call an undercover capacity. He was, in short, attempting to put a stop to our enterprise at the point of origin.”

“I see,” Jing said.

“We set out to capture this Bly, but he was very uncooperative, and died on us. But he did have an association with the man you will be examining tonight. This is the man I and my host, a great warlord––a great
man
––questioned. Our subject’s mental condition was terrible back then, and we were unable to complete the examination. The man was taken back in a raid on my host’s villa. But he has come back to me now, in what I can only conclude is the hand of providence.”

Jing said nothing.

“You follow the way of the Buddha? Or the Tao?”

“I have no religion,” said the doctor.

“In this you are quite foolish,” Kovak said. “And you must keep this in mind as you examine our subject. He was a chaplain, a man of God. You must convince him that you are also.”

“I will.”

“Good. What I want is to know what became of the boxes of gold. This may have been told to him by the soldier Bly. I want to know who the traitor is in my network. It is a thin reed that we have, but I must believe that is why our subject has come to me at this hour. The infusion of this capital would be of great benefit to us, as competition is growing strong.”

“I understand.”

“I certainly hope you do,” Kovak said. “There is competition among physicians as well.”

Jing frowned. “I am not entirely certain I know what you mean.”

“It means you can be replaced. There is an evolutionary component to
—
”

The soft vibration of Kovak’s phone interrupted him. He answered.

It was Simo. “Something has gone wrong.”

Kovak closed his eyes. “Dragoslav?”

“I’m afraid so, sir.”