Ten Steps Ahead

The interrogation room was stark and cold.

A thin camera blinked red in the corner, recording every breath, every blink. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant.

Arturo sat comfortably in the chair opposite the long metal table, one ankle crossed over the other, his posture relaxed as though he was waiting for a delayed flight, not sitting in front of Interpol.

Across from him sat two Interpol off