“Huh,” Henson said, a slight smile on his face. “If you kill me, you’ll never find it,” he managed to say.
“I’ll make you talk,” Bulldog vowed.
Davis wasn’t so sure. And time was not a luxury. “Is it here in town?”
“You have to have me along. You palefaces go alone, especially them flashing your badges, you’ll get gutted. See it’s deep, deep in the jungle,” he cackled.
“He’s losing his mind,” the shorter federal man said.
“No, I don’t think so,” Jeff said.
His partner glanced at him, his gloves smeared with blood.
“You can beat me all night and it won’t make no nevermind,” Henson said. “We can’t get there until the day time anyway.”
“You’re lying,” Davis said.
“Okay,” Henson shot back. “How you know different?”
“Goddamn smart-aleck porch monkey,” Bulldog hissed.
Henson looked at him balefully. “You already got a lot of explaining to do with me looking like this.” Inwardly, Henson gathered his chi as had been taught him by the deformed monk Hiroki Kodama.
“Is it at Small’s Paradise where you do your broadcasts?’ the taller G-man asked, getting to his feet.
“You tell me, stretch. I bet you’ve already searched there, my home, and I’m sure May-May’s too. Huh, you tell me?” Henson figured the photos Davis had of him had been taken by these government men. But did this working over mean Davis was working with this Medusa Council, as Tesla had called it, to turn over the Daughter? But that meant the government would want it—or at least a piece of it. It didn’t seem likely to Henson that Davis would angle to do that. He knew enough about him to know he’d want the power for himself. Maybe to sell to the highest bidder, but more than likely to make him even richer and more influential. Which meant he’d have to control the Daughter.
“What’s the payday you promised these two?” Henson said.
Davis regarded him.
“This little meeting of the minds is off the books, ain’t it? Like those mugs in the animal masks you imported from out of town to fetch Ellsmere back. Make it all hush-hush. Like you were playing ball, but all along working behind the back deals for yourself.”
Bulldog exchanged a glance with the taller one. When they’d tortured the hood, he’d spilled that Davis was paying him. They went to Davis and demanded in on however the millionaire was going to cash in on this whatever it was he was after or they’d tell Hoover at the Bureau.
Davis motioned to the two, and they went into the side room, closing the door. Momentarily they returned. He adjusted his tie as he stood before Henson. “Let me understand. You’ll take us to the meteor?’
“Yeah, ‘cause you bastards might get smart and just leave me here to rot.”
“We wouldn’t want you to miss out on any fried chicken bonanzas,” Bulldog cracked.
“Your mama likes my drumstick,” Henson said, his banter misdirecting them as he continued to go within—calling up images of a snow-covered Mt. Hiel in Kyoto, of practicing martial arts bare-chested and ankle-deep in the white powder. He had to drain off any hesitations, channel his pain into resolve. His actions had to be fluid, effort without effort.
That got a rise out of Bulldog, but his partner stopped him. He was chuckling.
Davis continued. “If you take us to the meteor, why would you trust us to make good on a promise to cut you in—as you said, once we have it, we have it.”
“Really?” Henson said. “Once you have it, so what? It don’t come with a set of instructions. And I’ve retrieved Henrik from Dutch Schultz.” As he suspected, that was news to the shipping magnate and the other two, given the looks on their faces. That confirmed for Henson that Davis, using Schultz, had been trying all along to get to the Daughter first.
“The prof has already doped out the rock’s secrets. But you can only have him if I’m breathing.”
Bulldog held his arms out wide. “Let me tenderize him some more.”
“I gotta relieve myself,” Henson announced.
“Go ahead,” Bulldog said.
Henson rolled his head toward Davis. “I’m not talking about peeing. You want me messing in my pants? You want even more attention on me in the morning when we get there? Okay by me, it ain’t like I’m the one who’s gonna be embarrassed.”
Davis turned to the tall one. He in turn took out a .45 from his shoulder holster under his coat. “Fine, you can have a bathroom break,” Jeff said. “But you’ll do it with this pacifier pressed against that thick head of yours.”
To his partner he said, “Untie him.”
“Shit,” he complained, but did so. He wasn’t careful slitting the ropes on Henson’s wrist and ankles, nicking his flesh.
Freed, Henson stumbled forward, bending over slightly, hands gripping just above his knees. He sagged, and Bulldog stepped away quickly, refusing to hold him up. He’d counted on the agent not standing too close to see what he was up to.
“Come on,” the tall one demanded. “Time’s a’wasting.”
“Just need to…get my…breath.” As Henson straightened up, he flung the shuriken he’d tucked away in a watch pocket sewn onto his pants’ inner waistband. This was one of the electrified ones Stevenson had altered. He was faster than Jeff could pull the trigger. The throwing star sunk deep in of his neck. He twitched and shook as electrical current surged through him. He managed a shot, but the gun was already dropping from his hand.
As this happened, Henson grabbed the washbowl and threw it at Davis, who was clearing the revolver he had on him. The dishware broke on his face, and the man stumbled
