Page 115 of The Session

John entered the room, followed by the armed guard who had escorted him previously.

“Frank, would you mind keeping an eye on Mr. Cutler while Mark and I talk?”

Mark followed John out into the hallway and into the outside enclosure.

“Excellent work,” John said.

“Was all of that real?” Mark asked.

“Very. We got access to his messages and found what we needed.”

Mark was still processing the reality of it. The forethought . . . “How did you know that was going to work?”

“We found the gun in his bag when he fell asleep on the flight,” John explained.

“So you’re the ones who took out the bullets?” Mark asked.

“No. He brought an unloaded gun with no firing pin. It was a last resort to try to scare you.”

“And you didn’t think you should tell me this?”

“He wouldn’t have tried that on anybody else. He thought you were new enough that you would fall for it. He just wanted to scare you.”

“How did you know how I would react?” Mark asked.

“We’re exceptionally good at this kind of thing,” John told him.

“Is that it? No more tests?”

“There’s always another test, but yes, this was your Level 10 Session. Congratulations.”

“What happens to him?” Mark asked, nodding back toward the compound.

“He’ll be rehabilitated,” John replied.

“Rehabilitated?”

“It’ll be his choice, but I wouldn’t worry about that. You have a plane to catch,” John informed him.

“Just like that.”

“Just like that. Maybe some other time we can talk about what you were doing for those six hours on Nassau and why none of our people could find you,” John said.

Mark noted the threat. But this whole charade had taught him something that he wasn’t sure even Summit was aware of:

Aside from the private militaries and armed guards straight out of Soldier of Fortune, when you came toe-to-toe with their highly trained executives, their mind games were useless against an uppercut.

War Council

Mark stood in front of the massive front doors. They had to be at least two stories tall. His father’s seaside estate had been a complete mystery to him. There was nothing written about it online. And other than knowing it existed, Mark had no idea what to expect.

In movies, Mark thought, a door that big usually held back a dinosaur or a giant ape.

When it finally opened, his father stood behind it. But for Mark, the man had as much impact in that moment as King Kong or a T. rex. Like them, he was powerful and destructive, whether he realized it or not.

“Step inside, son,” Lightman urged.

Mark gave his father an awkward nod and walked into a massive living room that could easily hold a basketball court.