river, which was visible through the end of a narrow, tree-lined channel to the right. A small box was placed at the boat’s side, allowing Hisle and the chief to climb on board. “Go down the companionway,” Smith ordered, “and into the bathroom.”
“You think they’ll even let the girls go, Charlie?” Hisle asked once the door was closed. He was leaning against the wall, his hands bound and clasped at his waistline.
“I don’t know,” Flanagan replied as he sat on top of the vanity He winced as he used the inside of his right forearm to lightly feel his ribs where he’d been kicked. He was having some trouble breathing. Leaning back, taking small breaths, he said, “I just don’t know. The look in Smith’s eyes scared me.”
“I saw it too,” Hisle replied and then snorted. “I guess we both really pissed them off, huh?” Lyman lifted Flanagan’s shirt up to inspect his ribs while the chief held up his bound arms.
“I suppose we did,” Flanagan said and winced as he tried to take in a deeper breath. “Bastard broke my ribs.”
“I suspect he did. He kicked you good,” Lyman added and then sighed. “So where do you thing we’re going.”
“You know the river better than me. What do you think?”
Hisle leaned against the wall and thought for a moment. “I’d suspect we’re going north.”
“Why?”
“Less boat traffic up that way, north of Stillwater, up toward the rail bridge maybe.”
“There’s a lot of boats on the river, aren’t there?”
“Yeah. There will be a big fireworks display in about…” Hisle looked at his watch, “an hour or so.”
Flanagan smiled wryly and shook his head. “They’ll cap us all right. Right during the rockets’ red glare. The sound of the gun firing will sound like fireworks.”
The two men sat in silence for a few minutes, feeling the acceleration of the boat into open water.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Hisle muttered sadly.
“We’re not dead yet.”
“I don’t sense the cavalry charge coming,” Lyman replied. “Face it, Charlie. Your boys know who these guys are, but they have no idea where we are.”
37
8:22 PM
“You’re sure about this connection?” Burton asked Peters as they made their way down the steps to the basement of the Department of Public Safety.
“Yes,” Peters replied. “McRyan has been working this today. Frankly, I thought he was crazy, but that’s Mac. He gets going on something and he can’t be stopped. It reminds me of that PTA case. The guy simply won’t take no for an answer. Anyway, he unearthed this connection between Brown and Mueller and thinks it’s worth pursuing. I want you to take a look at it, but with the chief and Lyman missing, we need to move fast.”
“Sounds pretty thin,” Burton replied as Peters stopped at a metal door and took his keys out of his pocket. “I mean, this Brown name comes up on a criminal case and this Mueller is what, a fellow inmate? That’s pretty weak.” Burton followed Peters into the conference room.
“IT AIN’T WEAK, IT’S DEAD FUCKIN’ ON!” Riley roared as he threw Burton into the cement wall. Rock moved in with a knee to the gut and then threw Burton back across the metal interview table, where the agent slid across, into and then over two folding chairs, and smashed hard against the far wall. Riley picked a dazed Burton up, slammed him into the chair, and emptied the agent’s pockets of cuffs, keys, weapon, wallet, two cell phones, and a hotel key card.
“Better talk now, John,” Peters said casually, sitting on the corner of the table as Burton tried to catch his breath. “Or I’m going to let these two animals see if they can put you through these cement walls. And,” Peters added, crossing his arms and looking around the room, “nobody’s going to hear you down here. The room is soundproofed.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Burton spat. “I’m gonna have all of you…”
Riley backhanded Burton out of the chair to the floor. “If you ever want to breathe free air…”
“Fuck that!” Rock yelled, grabbing Burton by his shirt. His bright white eyes bulging in his dark black face. “If he ever wants to get out of this room alive he better talk.”
“I’m an FBI agent…”
“Do I look like I give a shit!” Rockford yelled and threw the agent against the wall. He punched Burton in the belly again and then tossed him back over the table. Burton pushed himself up to his knees, trying to catch his breath.
“John, John, John…” Peters said shaking his head, a smile on his face. He crouched down to Burton. “How much longer you want this tune-up to last? I mean, these two live for this shit.”
“Where’s Duffy? I want you to get Duffy in here,” Burton demanded, gasping for breath.
“Duffy isn’t interested,” Peters said. In fact, Duffy had considered the evidence and made himself conveniently scarce. “I’m not getting anyone for you,” Peters continued. “We have you cold.”
“With what? You ain’t got shit on me,” Burton panted.
“ Ohhhh yes we do,” came another voice. “How was the Ranger up in Forest Lake last night?” Mac asked, his voice booming over the speaker on Peters’ cell phone.
The look on Burton’s face spoke volumes. “How?”
“We’re just that good,” Mac answered in a mocking tone. “At the Ranger you met up with Smith Brown. The man who you partnered with to sell drugs sixteen years ago. The man who, because he never rolled over on you, forced you to help him with this. The man who has the chief and Hisle. The man you’re going to give us and I mean right fuckin’ now.”
“Or what?”
“Or you never leave that room alive,” Mac replied flatly. “It’s that simple.”
Burton looked up at Peters, “You wouldn’t…”
“It’s no big thing,” Peters said conversationally. “You simply go missing. A little cement around your ankles and we dump you in the Mississippi. The only way you leave the room alive,” Peters stated, “is if you tell us where Brown has Flanagan and Hisle.”
“Maybe we can make a deal,” Burton replied, on all fours on the floor, trying to play his last card. “I can help you find the girls. I don’t know where they are, but I can…”
“We have the girls,” Mac answered.
Burton’s jaw hit the floor. “How? How is that possible?”
“We’ve known since the safe house yesterday that someone was working this from the inside, you piece of shit,” Riley growled. “You have no leverage to deal.” Riley picked Burton up and threw him over to Rock.
“WHERE ARE THEY? TELL US NOW!” Rockford yelled. He grabbed the back of Burton’s pants and ran him into the adjoining bathroom. He stuffed Burton’s head in the grimy toilet. “Tell us where they are, or so help me God…” Rock pulled Burton’s head back.
“But I don’t know anything…”
“The hell you don’t,” Rock growled pushing Burton’s head back down into the water. After twenty seconds, he pulled his head up. “WHAT’S IT GONNA BE?”
“Okay! Okay! Okay!” Burton yelped.
Rockford picked him up and put him into a folding chair at the interview table. “Where? Where are they?”
“I don’t know for sure,” Burton answered. Rockford raised his hand. “I don’t know!” the agent yelped, cowering. Almost whimpering, he repeated, “I don’t know.”
“What the fuck do you know?” Rock demanded, grabbing Burton’s shirt and pulling the man’s face close to
