“One condition,” Adrian said, stepping closer to the agent.

“You’re not in a position to make conditions, DeLuca,” Miller said.

“If the audio goes dead for even a second, your men bring Claire to a secure room,” Adrian said.

Miller looked at me, then back at Adrian.

“Fine,” Miller said. “But if you try to remove the transmitter, my men have orders to shoot on sight.”

Adrian nodded once, a cold, businesslike gesture.

He peeled off his heavy coat and tossed it onto the visitor’s chair near my bed.

Miller stepped forward, his fingers rough as he attached the small adhesive square to the skin just below Adrian’s collarbone.

He threaded the thin wire down the inside of Adrian’s shirt, securing the battery pack to his belt.

“Speak,” Miller commanded.

“Leo Vance is a dead man,” Adrian said, his voice clear and level.

Miller adjusted a dial on a small receiver in his hand and nodded. “Signal is clean.”

Adrian turned back to me, ignoring Miller for a moment.

He reached out and took my face in his hands, his thumbs tracing my cheekbones.