. .” Brockman's features were contorted with pain. “None of it matters. I can bear anything.” “Certainly,” Ali said. It had been a long, painful night. “I'm as tough as you are. If I talk, it's not because you got the better of me.” “Of course not.” “Carl Duran matters.” “Then we'll need to make sure he keeps away from you.” “The only way to guarantee that is to kill him,” Brockman said. “Tell me what you know. I'll see what I can arrange.” “Don't you think I had plans to kill him? But first, you need to find the bastard.” Strapped to the flex machine, Brockman's body was rigid with anguish. “And if anything happens to him, he left instructions for someone he trusts to release documents. About me.” “Unless you tell me, I can't help you.”
