One thing that's true about his work at Transnational Intelligence Services is that no two days are alike, but certain patterns do emerge. For one thing, his colleagues come to him when modern interrogation techniques are failing and a more direct approach is called for. Today, he's in his office when Frederick comes in. "We could use your help down in the basement. We pulled in the HR rep from International Surveillance and Intelligence to get a location on the Baker Files and she's not being cooperative."

He doesn't say anything. He just rises and follows. In this business, anything you say is information - even asking questions, even the lies you choose to tell. Frederick knows this and talks as they ride down in the elevator. "Our acquisition agents weren't after HR. They were after the boss's secretary. There was a case of mistaken identity. And yes, Gunter's been working with her... and Helmut. She's way tougher than she looks."

They get out in the basement and walk the rest of the way to the secure holding section, which is basically just an illegal jail and only used in emergencies. As soon as they go through the door, they hear a woman's mocking laughter as she taunts her interrogator. "Who taught you to hit like that? Your boyfriend?"

In the center of the room is a blonde woman in a pencil skirt and white bra. She's tied to a wooden chair, has two black eyes, and her hair is a mess. Still, there's nothing but defiance. Helmut punches her in the jaw, snapping her head back, but she just laughs. "Maybe you can ask your daddy to buy you a roll of nickels."

"See what I mean?" Frederick leads him into the interrogation room. She looks up at him through her swollen eye. "Somebody new? Good. Maybe you can hit me hard enough to at least turn me on a little. Pee Wee German here is leaving me dryer than Ben Shapiro's wife."

Frederick leans in and whispers. "This is Pam, last name unknown. If we don't get the Baker files in the next 24 hours, our client could lose billions."