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“What were you going to do with the princess?”
“Whatever I wanted. He said I could do whatever I wanted!” Wracking sobs stopped the flow of words. “I just had to send pictures. One a day, with the newspaper.”
“Where were you going to send them?”
“Watchman Media.”
“How many days did you have to keep her?”
“Until he told me I could finish with her.”
“I need more than that.” The interrogator put his hand on the man’s back.
“At least four days! I couldn’t do any big stuff right away because she had to stay alive for four days.”
“You know what? This is great information. Thank you.”
“You’ll let me…let me go?”
“I’m going to let you take a bit of a break.”
“I told you everything,” he wailed.
“I know, I know. You told me about the other women and the bodies, and your pen pal the ‘master’.” The interrogator rose and then walked to the wall. Chain rattled and the man’s arms fell down onto his back. With a sob, he collapsed onto the floor, curling into a fetal position with his hands still tied behind him.
Eric flipped the sound off. He didn’t want to listen to a serial killer blubber on about how his shoulders and nose hurt—though based on the look of his face, his nose probably did hurt.
Charlie Allerton, former British SAS, walked out of the interrogation room, closing and locking the door behind him. He plucked a rag from the counter and started wiping off the blood that coated his hands.
“Fleet Admiral,” he said with a nod to Eric.
“Looks like I arrived just in time.”
Charlie grunted his agreement. “I have a list of names, some locations. I might be able to get more from him.”
“Names of victims?” Eric asked.
“Yes.”
“Our second serial killer.” Despite the emotionless state he’d forced himself into, Eric felt sick. “And just like the other one did with Karl and Leila, this one was going to kidnap and then torture Sophia.”
Charlie nodded. “But he was going to send pictures to us. Watchman Media is a Masters’ Admiralty owned business here.” He tossed the bloody rag away. His hands were still stained. “It was a distraction. Kidnapping Sophia Starabba would distract my admiral. Or it could be about more upheaval in Rome.”
Eric shook his head softly. “The Queen is the most powerful piece on the board. It might have been about taking out Sophia herself. She’s essentially running this territory while Arthur and I try to figure out what the fuck is going on.”
Charlie grunted. “You’re right. I underestimated her.”
“The master doesn’t. And the fact that he doesn’t tells me something.”
“Tells you what?”
Eric didn’t answer the question. Instead, he said, “If no one has said this yet, good job.”
Charlie had been in the tail car. He’d been the one to jump out the moment he’d heard about the flat tire and start scouting the roadside, finding the spike strip a quarter of a mile behind them. He’d found and apprehended the would-be kidnapper before James and Sophia even knew they were in danger. The knight traveling with them had gotten the tire changed, and they’d headed off to their destination, none the wiser.
The rest of the security officers had stayed with Sophia while Charlie had brought the man here to be questioned. Chain of command meant Charlie reported his findings to Lennon Giles, the security minister of England. He’d consulted with Lorelei Madden, the vice admiral.
It was Lorelei who had come directly to Eric with information about what had happened, acting on orders he’d given her. It was the same order he’d given all the vice admirals—do whatever it took to keep the admirals focused. He was in charge, but he wasn’t the one making day-to-day decisions. That was left to the admirals.
