And with that he lifted the pitcher, slowly poured the pungent mixture down the American’s nude and abraded body, rubbed the liquid with his hands into the open cuts, smeared it in, and cackled almost as loud as the prisoner’s screams.
A minute later the elevator was called up to the surface. The two
Before he could identify the call, one of the cops stiffened slightly, looked to el Carnicerito, and said, “DLR is here.”
Court continued to moan in agony.
Seconds later the elevator started back down; it took thirty seconds for the car to arrive with a thud. The wooden door rose. Three men in black suits emerged, appearing dim in the light.
Court writhed in pain, forgotten by the others in the room. It was several seconds before he could recover from the residual twitching in his muscles enough to recognize Daniel de la Rocha at the center of the three new arrivals.
THIRTY-EIGHT
DLR looked the gringo up and down. Jerry, el Carnicerito, his young protege, Spider’s number-two man Carlos, the two police who had brought Court down from the car, stood to the side in the dark cold room. Daniel, Emilio, and Spider stepped up closer to the prisoner.
Daniel stopped three feet from the tip of the American’s nose.
“You?
The American stared back.
In Spanish the impeccably dressed man said, “I was expecting . . . I don’t know. Rambo, maybe?” The room erupted in laughter. And then in English. “You’ve caused me some problems, amigo. I’m just curious . . . Why?”
The Gray Man did not respond. He wasn’t sure if he could speak; he felt his teeth chattering.
De la Rocha shrugged, looked down at the rolling cart with the machine and the surgical instruments, then up at the prisoner.
“What kind of fun have you been having with my friend here,
“So far just some shocks. I also took advantage of the lesions on his body from the broken glass.” He held up the pitcher, now empty, and de la Rocha sniffed it. His eyebrows furrowed for a moment, and then he smiled.
“A gringo margarita.”
“
“Not yet. Would you like to watch?”
Daniel rolled his eyes and looked back to his men. “Would I like to watch?” Back to Gentry. “Only a
Court bit his lower lip to stop the quivering.
DLR looked to his torturer. “Anything about the Gamboa woman?”
“No. He spoke to the other
Daniel regarded Pfleger for just a moment, then looked to Carlos. Carlos spoke English, and he had been in the room during the conversation between the Americans.
“Nothing,
DLR turned back to look over the man shackled to the fence. “That is a beautiful scar on your hip there. I see an old bullet wound on your thigh, too.” He stepped forward and looked at it. “A year old at most.” He then turned Court’s head to the left with his fingertips. “A burn on your neck. Much older. Five years?”
No answer.
“These little cuts on your face and arms? The bruising on your chest?” Daniel shrugged. “You are no stranger to pain, I see. You may resist our efforts to pry information from you.
“No matter. We have the sister-in-law. I hear you two slept together last night. Did you enjoy your taste of our culture, amigo? Latin women can be very fiery, very passionate, yes? If you don’t talk, we will start work on her. The techniques at our disposal will remove that passion within minutes. We will turn her into a zombie in an hour.” DLR smiled at Gentry.
Then asked, “Where is Elena Gamboa at this moment?”
Court shrugged as best he could with his arms pulled wide.
“Obviously, we know you were attempting to arrange for her to get into the United States.”
Nothing from the tortured man in front of him.
“She will not leave Mexico.” Then the handsome man in the black suit said, “Why do you care? She is not your family. Do you have family?” No response from Court. DLR continued, “I believe family is the most important thing in the world. Don’t you?”
Gentry took a moment to control himself. Tried his best to sound strong. “I believe your family is going to miss you when you’re dead.”
“Ha, ha. A threat? He finally speaks and he threatens me? Carnicerito?”
“It’s cold down here. Turn on the heat.”
The Little Butcher eased back the dial.
Gentry’s head dropped forward in exhaustion. Looking down, he saw he was pissing all over the floor. Sweat dripped off his nude body along with his urine and drips of blood. He was thankful he had managed to avoid biting off his tongue.
When he finally pulled his head back up, he saw Laura being shoved into the room from the stairwell, her hands bound in front of her, a single Black Suit pushing her forward from behind. The man handed her off to Spider, then turned around and disappeared back up the stairs.
Even in agony, Court felt the shame and humiliation as his bladder emptied in front of her.
She was dressed in simple blue cotton warm-up pants and a white tank top. Her right eye was black and red. Her lip fat. Even in the dim light where she stood, Court could see her fists were scuffed and bloody.
She’d been fighting back.
Good girl.
Daniel leaned close. “You almost pissed on my suit. That would have made me very angry.”
De la Rocha turned to the man holding Laura by the shoulders. “Spider, bring her into the light, put her on her knees in front of her gringo. We will see how deep is their love.”
The man shoved the tiny woman onto the cement, just a few feet in front of Gentry. The leader of DLR’s enforcers pulled out a silver .45 automatic pistol and handed it to his
“If you do not tell me, right now, where my forces can find Elena Gamboa, I will blow off this pretty head. I will
Laura shouted in the small room, “Don’t say—”
De la Rocha pounded the grip of the .45 into her head. Laura went down onto the filthy concrete. Dazed, she struggled back up to her knees.
Court’s head rose, and he looked at Daniel de la Rocha.
