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Tate stalked over and glowered down at him.
“I’m so glad you’re enjoying this because it’s the last time you’ll enjoy anything.”
Juan smirked. “I don’t know about that. Do you have another operation you want me to watch you screw up?”
“You’re not staying much longer,” Tate said, waving over Catherine Ballard to them.
“Where am I going?”
Tate didn’t answer. Ballard approached with a handheld scanner.
“Find it and take it out,” Tate said.
Ballard nodded and waved the device over Juan, beginning with his head. It remained silent until she reached his left thigh and started beeping.
“Here it is,” she said and flipped open a switchblade.
“Careful,” Juan said. “This dive suit is my favorite.”
“Was he always like this?” she asked Tate as she sliced the suit open.
“It may be hard to believe,” Tate replied, “but he’s gotten worse. He thinks he can joke himself out of any situation. But not this time, my friend.”
Ballard palpated his quad muscle until she found what she was looking for. When she dug the knife into Juan’s leg, he didn’t give Tate the satisfaction of watching him wince from the pain.
She plucked out a tiny disc and handed it to Tate, who took it from her in a handkerchief. He cleaned the disc and held it aloft to inspect.
“So you thought your crew would find you with this tracker?” Tate asked, his delight returning.
“Seemed prudent to have it, given the psychos I’m dealing with.”
“Does that make you feel better? Thinking we’re all psychos?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Is it psychotic to want justice, to get revenge on the people who’ve wronged you? Are we psychos for doing mercenary work, which is the exact same thing you do?”
Juan shook his head in disgust. “We don’t sink ships for money and kill innocent people in the process.”
“You were willing to let hundreds of innocent people die in a terrorist attack in Moscow just because you were squeamish about my interrogation methods.”
“You were going to kill that man’s whole family. His children.”
Tate waved away that point. “They deserved it for supporting a terrorist.”
Juan didn’t see any reason to keep arguing with him. “You said I’m not staying much longer. Where am I going? Overboard?”
Tate grinned. “After all this, do you think it would be that easy?” He handed the intact tracker to Ballard. “Take this to the international airport and stash it in someone’s luggage.”
She nodded. “His people will be looking for him on another continent.”
“And where will I be?” Juan asked.
“A while ago,” Tate said, “it seems you destroyed a joint China–Argentina base in Antarctica, costing them a fortune. Several of the Argentinian officers responsible for the project survived the attack, although they’ve been demoted or drummed out of the service, pariahs in their own military. They didn’t appreciate your role in ruining their careers.”
Juan didn’t like the sound of this.
“When these officers found out they’d get a second crack at you,” Tate continued, “they jumped at the chance and greased the skids for my operation here in Buenos Aires. In return, I promised them you.”
