you wait quietly till we’ve gone, you’re free to walk away. You’ve played your part. I’ve got no axe to grind with you.”
Lesley must have been holed up somewhere nearby because it only took her twenty minutes to arrive in the cellar. She made no sound creeping down the outside steps. She just appeared in the doorway, paused for a moment with one hand leaning on the frame, then launched herself into the room like a model strutting down a catwalk. Her eyes were fixed on me. I was in the corner next to the boiler, arms behind my back, leaning slightly forward to keep a realistic tension on the heavy chains. She stopped in the center of the room, leering at me, then suddenly the smile disappeared from her face.
“Where are my people?” she said. “They should be here.”
“The reception committee from my hotel?” I said. “They decided not to hang around.”
“Why? I told them to wait.”
“I guess they heard about Cyril. Thought you might be planning another demonstration.”
“The fools. There’ll be no more demonstrations. Tonight it’s your turn. I was going to let them watch.”
“Really? Maybe we should postpone, then. Wait till you’ve got a big enough audience?”
“No. It’s happening tonight. But don’t worry. People will still see it. George is going to tape the whole thing. Maybe I’ll have him put it on the Internet. Then everyone can enjoy it, all over the world.”
I heard a shuffling sound from outside and then George stumbled into the room. He was moving backward, helping the tall guy from Lesley’s house to carry a bright yellow hand truck. They set it down inside the doorway and the tall guy wheeled it toward the remains of the mattress. There were two things on it. A vehicle battery-heavy duty, probably from a truck or an SUV-and a polished mahogany box. It was ten inches wide, eight deep, and eight tall. On the front there was a rotating switch and a round, brass-edged dial. Two long thick cables snaked out from the side and lay in a coil on top of the box. One was attached to a large crocodile clip. The other was fixed to a wooden handle, twelve inches long, with a pointed bronze tip.
The two men wouldn’t catch my eye but Lesley moved over until she was almost close enough to touch me. She reached into her coat pocket, pulled out the bolt-cutter device she’d brandished in front of Cyril, and started into her routine of opening and closing its jaws.
“Remember my burdizzo?” she said. “What it does?”
“I remember,” I said. “But it’s only fair to warn you. There’s no way on earth I’m going to let you use that thing on me.”
“David, don’t worry. I have no intention of using it on you. There’s no need. Because you’re going to use it on yourself.”
“On myself? I don’t think so. On the scale of unlikely things that’s pretty much off the chart.”
“I understand, David. Most people in your position think that way, to start with. But their views always change. Yours will, too.”
“You think?”
“I know. See my wooden box? Can you guess what it’s for?”
“Making coffee? That would be useful, about now.”
“It’s for changing people’s minds.”
“It won’t change mine.”
“You know what I might do, that would be funny? Get you to go on tape right now, swearing you’ll never use the burdizzo on yourself. Then, in a few minutes, when you’re begging me to hand it you, that’ll make an amusing contrast, don’t you think? Before and after?”
“Doesn’t strike me as funny. But why not bring your box over here and we’ll find out?”
“Oh, no. It doesn’t come to you. You go to it. First I’m going to cut off all your clothes. Slowly, one by one. Then John and George are going to strap you to the mattress. Naked, obviously. That’s when I fire up the box. The clip goes-well, you can imagine where. The probe goes wherever I choose. And you go to hell on earth.”
“Are you sure? Because I hate it when people overpromise and underdeliver.”
“See the switch? That controls the power. It’s set to minimum, right now. Sixteen thousand volts. That’s where we’ll start.”
“And?”
“It goes right up to thirty-two thousand.”
“Is that a lot? I never paid much attention in science class.”
“It’s more than a lot. I can’t wait to show you. But you know the best thing? The current. One-thousandth of an amp.”
“Means nothing to me. Physics was never my strong suit.”
“It means there’s no danger of accidentally killing you. We can keep going for hours. All night. As long as I want.”
“I see. That must be the benefit of understanding all these little details. The control it gives you. Is it important, would you say? Knowing all the relevant facts?”
Lesley slipped the burdizzo back into her coat pocket and swapped it for a pair of dressmaker’s scissors.
“Because I think there’s one fact you don’t know,” I said. “One that’s more important than everything else you’ve told me.”
“So come on,” she said, stepping in close and pulling my shirt tight, ready to cut. “Share.”
“I could,” I said. “But I have a better idea. Remember at your other place, with Cyril? How you thought showing was better than telling? That idea stayed with me.”
I dropped the chains and grabbed her right hand tight, crushing her fingers into the scissors so she couldn’t stab me or release them. Then without letting go I spun her around, whipping my elbow over her head and forcing her arm up until she was pushing the scissor blades into her own throat. At the same time I grabbed the Browning from my waistband and looked across at George and the tall guy. Neither had moved.
“On the floor,” I said. “Both of you. Right now.”
George was the first to respond. He went for his inside pocket, trying to draw his old Army Colt. I fired twice. Both bullets hit him in the chest, throwing him backward and leaving a bright crimson smear on the tiles where he slid. The tall guy reacted a moment later, springing toward me, arms outstretched. I fired again, hitting him in the head and shoulder. I felt Lesley’s body tense and press back harder against mine as he went down. I spun her around and shoved her away from me. She staggered but steadied herself after four steps. Her chin was up, shoulders back, eyes blazing. The scissors were still in her hand. I willed her to use them, but she stayed stock-still. She wasn’t going to give me an easy excuse.
I lifted the gun and lined it up between her eyes. Her lackeys were on the floor, but she was the one who deserved the bullets. There was no doubt where the blame lay. My finger began to squeeze the trigger. A fraction of an ounce more pressure and she would be dispatched, too. I imagined her lying on her back, dead. As Raab had been when I found him. But then I thought back to the scene in the alley, earlier. There was nothing left to mark the spot where he’d fallen. Not even a vague impression in the trash. It was like a fresh tide of garbage had swept in and scoured away every last trace of his death, and wiped the slate clean for Lesley’s successors. If she disappeared, too, there would be nothing to stop them from dumping more helpless victims in similar places, all over the city, wherever they chose. Ten million dollars a year is plenty of incentive to keep the machine running. Unless Lesley was around to help the FBI dismantle it.
I looked at her face across the end of the barrel for another few moments, then lowered the gun. And hoped that this time, Varley would pick up the phone quickly.
There’s only so much temptation a man can take.
TWENTY
In my world you are surrounded by deceit.
You spend most of your working life lying to people. About who you are. Where you’re from. Why you’re with them. What you do. Who you work for. What you believe in. It makes for some interesting conversations. Because you know that for every lie you tell, you’re told a dozen in return. It changes the way you relate to people. You don’t just hear their words. You scan everything they say for contradictions. Check their facts for discrepancies. File
