Page 116 of The Session

Mark’s father wore khaki pants and a zip-up sweater. Between his tan and well-manicured haircut, he reminded Mark of an aging yet still-handsome movie star.

The last time they met at the Summit Strategies boardroom in Miami, Mark hadn’t had the chance to scrutinize his father. Standing close to him now, he could see the resemblance.

Mark’s father set a warm hand on his shoulder. “I’m very proud of you, son,” Lightman told him. “We’ll talk later when we have a chance. But right now we’re in crisis mode. Everybody else is in the dining room.”

They walked into another cavernous room. The table was absurdly long, a runway of polished wood set beneath a carved rock wall that rose like a cliff. At the far end, a floor-to-ceiling pane of glass opened onto the ocean. Dark-blue clouds hung on the horizon, stretching into the darkness.

Tru sat at one end of the table with her phone in hand and papers spread out. Nathan Morris sat to the side of her with his laptop open. Chad Jameson and Ted Connelly were there as well. Delilah Rawling sat with a stack of printed pages, with two assistants nearby. Water glasses and documents were spread across the table.

Tru pointed to a seat opposite her for Mark to take.

Lightman walked toward the window and stared out with his back to the room. “Any word on Nichols?”

“No. He was long gone by the time we put Cutler on the plane. We have our people looking for him. The problem is he knows our people and our methods. He probably planned for this,” Morris theorized.

“This is Bolsonaro, isn’t it?” Lightman asked.

“I don’t think it sounds like him. He generally tries to work around the edges,” Morris replied.

“Come on, who else would it be?” Tru asked.

“Our enemy list isn’t exactly short.”

“What about the group in Qatar that wanted to do the buyout?” Jameson asked.

“That is a possibility. They may have decided to use other means,” Morris allowed.

“Like this? And pulling a gun on Mark?” Lightman asked.

“It wasn’t loaded,” Mark spoke up. “He was just trying to use it as a prop. What will happen to him anyway?”

“He gets to stay on board the ship if he keeps cooperating,” Lightman said.

“What’s the ship?” Mark asked.

“It’s one of our research vessels. When somebody wants to make amends, they can volunteer to serve on it,” Lightman explained.

“I don’t understand.”

“Working on board is a form of rehabilitation, and it helps keep people out of mischief,” Tru told him.

“That sounds like a prison,” Mark said.

Lightman turned around and looked at him. “No, Mark, it’s not a prison. It’s voluntary. If Blaise doesn’t want to be there, we’ll be happy to turn him over to the authorities.”

“But not US authorities, I guess?”

“He did pull a gun on you in Belize,” Morris said.

“A prop gun he was using to scare me because you guys sent him down there,” Mark pointed out.

“You’re a kind person,” said Lightman. “But there’s a lot at stake.”

“Blaise knew what he was getting into, Mark,” Tru added.

Mark could tell they were rationalizing to cover their asses, but he wasn’t sure he was in a position to judge. Blaise wasn’t exactly an innocent victim, and given that he’d had a choice, Mark didn’t feel completely sorry for him. Still, he wondered how far they would go if the stakes were even higher.

“What’s Nichols’s angle in this?” Lightman asked.