When they approached the ornate front entrance, the iron gates swung open like on the closing credits of Get Smart.
They continued up a windy driveway through the heavily wooded property. After about a half mile, they hit a clearing with a building. The building was big and plain and rectangular, like a high school gym.
The only entrance Myron could see was a garage door.
As if on cue, the door slid open. Carl told Esperanza to pull into it. Once far enough inside, he told her to park and kill the engine. The goon car came in behind them and did likewise. .
The garage door came back down, slowly slicing out the sun. No lights were on inside; the room was submerged in total darkness.
'This is just like the haunted house at Six Flags,'
Myron said.
'Give me your gun, Myron.'
Carl had his game face on. Myron handed him the gun.
'Step out of the car.'
'But I'm afraid of the dark,' Myron said.
'You too, Esperanza.'
They all stepped out the car. So did the two goons behind them. Their movements echoed off the cement floor, hinting to Myron that they were in a very large room. The interior car lights provided a modicum of illumination, but that didn't last long. Myron made out nothing before the doors were closed.
Absolute blackness.
Myron made his way around the car and found Esperanza.
She took his hand in hers. They remained still and waited.
A beacon, the kind used at a lighthouse or a movie premiere, snapped on in their faces. Myron's eyes slammed shut. He shaded them with his hand and slowly squinted them open. A man stepped in front of the bright light. His body cast a giant shadow on the wall behind Myron. The effect reminded Myron of the Bat Signal.
'No one will hear your screams,' the man said.
'Isn't that a line from a movie?' Myron asked. 'But I think the line was, 'No one will hear you scream.' I
could be wrong about that.'
'People have died in this room,' the voice boomed.
'My name is Reginald Squires. You will tell me everything I want to know. Or you and your friend will be next.'
Oh, boy. Myron looked at Carl. Carl's face remained stoic. Myron turned back toward the light. 'You're rich, right?'
'Very rich,' Squires corrected.
'Then maybe you could afford a better scriptwriter.'
Myron glanced back at Carl. Carl slowly shook his head no. One of the two young goons stepped forward. In the harsh light, Myron could see the man's psychotic, happy smile. Myron tensed, waited.
The goon cocked a fist and threw it at Myron's head.
Myron ducked, and the punch missed. As the fist flew by him, Myron grabbed the goon's wrist. He put his forearm against the back of the man's elbow and pulled the joint back in a way it was never intended to bend. The goon had no choice. He dropped to the ground. Myron added a bit more pressure. The goon tried to squirm free. Myron snapped his knee straight into the goon's nose. Something splattered. Myron could actually feel the nose cartilage give way and fan out.
The second goon took out his gun and pointed it at Myron.
'Stop,' Squires shouted.
Myron let the goon go. He slid to the floor like wet sand through a torn bag.
'You will pay for that, Mr. Bolitar.' Squires liked to project his voice. 'Robert?'
The goon with the gun said, 'Yes, Mr. Squires.' +
'Hit the girl. Hard.'
'Yes, Mr. Squires.'
Myron said, 'Hey, hit me. I'm the one who smarted off.'
. 'And this is your punishment,' Squires said calmly.
'Hit the girl, Robert. Now.'
Goon Robert moved toward Esperanza.
'Mr. Squires?' It was Carl.
'Yes, Carl.' .
Carl stepped into the light. 'Allow me to do it.'
'l did not think you were the type, Carl.'
'I'm not, Mr. Squires. But Robert might do serious damage to her.'
'But that's my intent.'
'No, I mean, he'll leave bruising or break something.
You want her to feel pain. That's my area of expertise.'
'I realize that, Carl. It's why I pay you what I do.'
'So then let me do my job. I can hit her without leaving a mark or permanent injury. I know control. I
know the right spots.'
The shadowy Mr. Squires considered this a moment.
'Will you make it painful?' he asked. 'Very painful?'
'If you insist.' Carl sounded reluctant but resolved.
'I do. Right now. I want it to hurt her a great deal.'
Carl walked up to Esperanza. Myron start to move toward him, but Robert placed the gun against his head.
There was nothing he could do. He tried fire-throwing a warning glare at Carl.
'Don't,' Myron said.
Carl ignored him. He stood in front of Esperanza now.
She looked at him defiantly. Without preamble he punched her deep in the stomach.
The power of the blow liited Esperanza off her feet.
She made an oofing noise and folded at the waist like an old wallet. Her body landed on the fioor. She curled up into a protective ball, her eyes wide, her chest heaving for air. Carl looked down at her without emotion. Then he looked at Myron.
'You son of a bitch,' Myron said.
'It's your fault,' Carl said.
Esperanza continued to roll on the ground in obvious agony. She still couldn't get any air into her lungs. Myron's whole body felt hot and red. He moved toward her, but Robert again stopped him by pressing the gun hard against his neck.
Reginald Squires did the big voice projection again.
'You will listen now, won't you, Mr. Bolitar?'
Myron took deep breaths. His muscles bunched. Every part of him fumed. Every part of him craved vengeance.
He watched in silence as Esperanza writhed on the floor. After a while she managed to get to all fours.
Her head was down. Her body heaved. A retching noise came out of her. Then another retching noise.
The sound made Myron pause.
Something about the sound . . . Myron searched his memory banks. Something about the whole scenario, the way she doubled up, the way she rolled on the floor it was strangely familiar. As though he'd seen it before. But that was impossible. When would he . . . ? He stopped as the answer came to him.
In the wrestling ring.
My God, Myron thought. She was faking it!
Myron looked over at Carl. There was a hint of a smile on his face.
Son of a bitch. It was an act!
Reginald Squires cleared his throat. 'You have taken an unhealthy interest in my son, Mr. Bolitar,' he
