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He held up his fists and blasted one right into Ogarkov’s nose, breaking it instantly. The man flew back across the room and howled in pain, rolling around on the floor like a wounded animal.
The man began chanting in Russian, then added, “I’ll tell you anything you want to know!”
“Aye, ah ken ye will.”
Caelan didn’t tell the man that whatever was left of him after this, it’d be dropped somewhere near the Russian border and he’d meet his end that way. Ogarkov didn’t stand a chance of survival but at this stage, he still needed the man to believe there was a slim chance of it.
Hauling the Russian back into his chair, he handed him a rag for his nose and said sadistically, “Now. We want to know names. Addresses. Ranks. Those your president trusts and doesn’t trust. Weapons stores. Codes if you have any. Cities they aren’t keeping a tight leash on. People whose allegiance you might consider sketchy. Am I clear?”
“God to hell, Scot,” said Ogarkov.
Caelan had the man prostrate on the table before he could find his next breath. Then Caelan’s belt was released and he tightened it around the man’s balls, scooping the man’s most precious possession upwards like it was being hauled for imminent removal.
“All names, or I fetch tools,” warned Caelan, tightening the belt with the strength of ten men.
Ogarkov began to talk.
Caelan’s hands were bloodied when he walked into the monitor room much later. Most of the staff had left, only a few remained, including Phoebe.
Out in the corridor, a trolley arrived next door to cart what was left of Ogarkov away.
“Weak stomachs,” she said, to explain the lack of staff who’d gone the distance. Yet her eyes blazed with excitement.
He ignored her and said, “Did you get it all?”
“Yes… apart from that last bit you had him whisper in your ear.”
Caelan smirked. “What bit?”
She gave him a look like he knew perfectly well.
“What did he tell you about Eric, then?” She bit the lid of her pen, desperate to know.
“I got you wee shites a fuck tonne of information. Let me have Eric.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Tell me one thing, is he a Russian spy?”
Caelan shook his head, trying not to laugh.
“You know that for sure?” she pressed.
“How can anyone ken anything for sure?” he laughed, grabbing a discarded pile of napkins from someone’s lunch order, then cleaning his hands.
“Please, come on. Whisper it to me, if you want,” she giggled.
Caelan raised one eyebrow. “He saved Ogarkov’s life, hoping to get a message to his father. That’s it.”
“The message?” she asked, panting with curiosity.
“That Caelan Cameron would make things happen for Ukraine, so he should leave the motherland as soon as things start to go bad.”
She didn’t believe it might be as simple as that. He didn’t care what she believed.
“Come on, it has to be more than that!” she pleaded.
“I’ve got a family thing so I shall be going, lass. Dinna expect me to answer the call next time! I’m done wi’ your lot now.”
He left the place with blood still on his hands.
