“That’s where you’re wrong. Our restraint as a country is our strength.”
“Restraint?” Sinclair said before snickering. “You are a bully who constantly sticks your nose in other people’s fights only when it suits your own interest. And only when you know you have the power to dictate the outcome you desire. You’re like a wealthy parent using your money to manipulate your children.”
“If that’s how you view my great country, you lack an incredible amount of context regarding how we get involved in conflicts around the world. It’s easy to claim the moral high ground when you live in an isolated place. Islands are great for hiding and indulging yourself, but our strength is forged in relationships that not only benefit us but also benefit the world.”
Sinclair sneered. “I’m about to show you what real power is, the kind that can reshape the history of the world.”
“And for what? A mention in the history books? You’ll be dead within a week.”
Sinclair pulled out his gun. “Or maybe you will, found on my yacht in your room with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. You’ll take the cowardly way out just like your predecessor.”
“He didn’t—” Young paused. “If your end game is to gain a position of influence within the U.S. government, you’re not going to accomplish that by killing me, and you know it.”
“Do I?” Sinclair asked. “Ask yourself, ‘Why am I here right now? How did Falcon Sinclair arrange such a meeting?’ When you consider the answer to those questions truthfully, it’ll become clear just how much influence I have even within the White House.”
“You’re rich,” Young said. “Money can buy you access but not always influence.”
“My reach is greater than you think. My money bought your wife.”
Young’s nostrils flared, his eyes narrowing. “She’s dead, you imbecile.”
Sinclair cocked his head to one side. “Really? Are you sure about that? Have you seen her dead body?”
“I watched people scrape her charred remains up off my bedroom floor,” Young said. “What kind of sadistic person are you to ask me such a question?”
“Sadistic? No. Sly as a fox? Most definitely. But rest assured, Mr. President, your wife is safe and sound under my care.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Aren’t you listening to me? Weren’t you at her funeral?”
“I was at a memorial service, but I never saw a body.”
“That’s because there wasn’t one.”
Sinclair pointed his index finger at Young. “You’re right about that. Because she was by a pool somewhere, safe and sound on the day you thought you buried her.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” Young said. “You might be able to manipulate most people, but I’m not falling for your games.”
“This isn’t a game, Mr. President. Would you like to see her again?”
Young pursed his lips and clenched his fists. He took a couple steps back before making a run at Sinclair with a wild swing. Sinclair slid aside and pushed Young, sending him sprawling to the ground.
“You were right earlier,” Sinclair said as he walked over to Young as he slowly got up. “I’ve been in business long enough to understand that there are moments when something unexpected happens. And earlier, my mainframe getting sabotaged was one of those. However, I was ready for how to proceed, always equipped with a solid backup plan. But right now, you’re the one who didn’t see this coming. Your guards are all incapacitated, a missile is headed toward your country’s capitol city, and you just found out that your wife conspired against you and isn’t really dead. The pressing question is how are you going to handle these unforeseen events? Because right now, mate, it’s you against the world.”
Young stood before making another lunge at Sinclair, but he grabbed the American president’s arms and flung him back down to the ground.
Sinclair paced around Young while Karelin took in the scene from the corner.
“Now,” Sinclair said, “you can continue to attempt to solve this with physical violence, which I can assure you won’t end well for you. Or you can walk out of here a free man and retain your power and position as the leader of one of the largest countries on Earth.”
“What’s the catch?” Young asked.
“There is no catch, as it were. There’s simply the agreement that you will discuss all major decisions with me moving forward and heed my advice, even if it contradicts what your other advisors say. If not, I will unleash some of my weapons upon you—and you’ll be powerless to stop them. Meanwhile, your war hawks will urge you to strike back at the Russians, but any such attempt will be swatted down by my defense system they own. Do you comprehend what I’m saying here?”
“I’d never agree to anything of the sort,” Young said. “That’s treason and would cause me to break the oath I pledged to fulfill in front of the American people.”
Sinclair turned toward the screen and clicked the remote. An image of Madeline Young appeared. She was clad in a bathing suit and straw hat, relaxing poolside.
“Would you like to see her again?” Sinclair asked. “Would you like to live?”
“That’s not her,” Young said with a growl. “This ploy won’t work on me.”
“Oh, it’s very much her. She’s even reading her favorite author right now, Jodi Picoult. If you’d like, I can even get her to speak.”
“That’s a recording. I’m not stupid.”
“If it’s not a live video, could I get the person filming it to do this?” Sinclair asked before he pulled out his phone and texted a message. Seconds later, the man capturing the footage placed a newspaper up in front of the camera, showing the day’s date.
“Neat trick,” Young said. “I’m still not falling for it.”
“I’m not asking you to fall for anything. The fact that your wife was scuttled away before the bomb hit the White House isn’t something that’s up for debate. But I can lessen the impending consequences upon your return to Washington if
