be happening to her. Manischewitz's own estimate was that Benton-Ramirez y Chou would give them what they demanded as long as it wasn't core information about BSC strategies and human intelligence sources. He might hand over the humint names, but that would be a far harder call for him, especially since whatever his emotions told him, the professional part of his brain must know how little chance there was of his ever seeing his sister alive again, whatever he gave up for her. But he'd give them what they asked for as long as he could convince himself that it wouldn't be critical, wouldn't cost the lives of people who'd put those lives on the line for him . . . and as long as he could convince himself there was still a chance of finding his sister and somehow getting her back.
There wasn't a chance in hell of that, and sooner or later he'd realize it, but in the meantime, letting Ardmore demonstrate what was happening to his sister—or what would happen to her if he failed to cooperate, at least—was the best way to push him off balance and keep him there. For a threat to be credible, however, it must be demonstrated to be real, and he would be more than happy to let Ardmore do the demonstrating.
Unless, of course, Ardmore's . . . enthusiasm was likely to lead him to kill the girl too soon. Worried or not, Benton-Ramirez y Chou wasn't going to continue committing treason if he wasn't convinced his sister was still alive to suffer if he didn't.
“I think if he wants to have any chance at all of ever getting her back alive, he'll geek to at least the first couple of demands,” he replied after a moment. “I doubt we'll be able to string him along forever, though. Once he realizes he's not getting her back, he'll pull the plug.” He shrugged. “I'm not sure what he'll do at that point. He could try something really stupid if he thinks he's figured out where she is, but that's not going to happen. Why?”
“Because I don't think he is,” Ardmore said, and licked his lips slowly, his expression ugly. “I think no matter how hard I work at convincing him to be reasonable, he's not gonna cough up the information more than maybe once. And I'll lay you odds he's not gonna give us accurate info even the first time. I'm looking forward to that.” He released Allison's hair with a flick of his fingers that bounced her head limply, and looked at Manischewitz with eyes that glittered hungrily. “I'm really looking forward to it. 'Cause when he sees what happens to his darling little sister in glorious HD, I think what he's gonna do is put a pulser dart through his own brain.”
Manischewitz nodded slowly. That was his own estimate of Benton-Ramirez y Chou's ultimate response when he hit the limit of what he could—or would—deliver and realized how agonizingly his sister had died because he had. Still, the Beowulfer was a tough little bastard; it was possible he'd refuse to kill himself and dedicate what remained of his life to the pursuit of vengeance, instead. Manischewitz had taken that possibility into consideration when he planned the op, which was why Benton-Ramirez y Chou was scheduled to die on his final information delivery. A nice, nasty little bomb hidden in the dead drop and remote-detonated would see to that, without anyone ever being stupid enough to take the chance of letting Benton-Ramirez y Chou into range of a live human being.
“Just don't get carried away,” he told Ardmore. The other man's expression tightened, and Manischewitz shook his head. “He's going to need a little more convincing even after he coughs up the first data dump, so don't worry. You'll get your chance to ‘convince him.' But if we push too hard, too fast on the very first date, he's likely to balk or try something desperate the next time. These things have to be handled properly, Giuseppe. And”—he looked directly into Ardmore's eyes—“if I were you, I'd be careful how much time I spent on camera with her myself. You know what cyber forensics can do with visual data, no matter how carefully we camouflage things.”
“Don't worry.” Ardmore smiled and stroked the neural whip as if it were some treasured pet. “All he'll see is her and the end of this.” He stroked the whip again. “And I'll make sure he