submissive smile of the Orient he remembers from so long ago returns. ?Yes, Zhaybee??
?What do I call you??
Her smile broadens. ?So sorry. I forgot. I am Ming.?
?Ming??
?Ming. Like the vase, yes??
?I won'?t forget.?
?Bye for now.?
Walt watches her lithe form glide across the carpet until she slips into the mass of fat American bodies crowding the slot machines.
?I guess you?re dumping me now, huh?? Nancy says petulantly from behind him.
Walt turns, takes in the genuine hurt in her face, and tries to let her down easy. ?We?'ve had a good run, Nancy. Haven?t we??
?What?s so great about her??
What?s not?
Walt wonders.
?She?s too damn skinny,? Nancy says, ?too skinny by half. Nothing to hold on to when you get in the saddle.?
Walt gives her a patient smile.
?Course I guess that doesn?'t matter, since you can?t saddle up anymore.?
Despite the venom in her voice, Walt takes out his wallet and peels off $500 of Penn?s money.
?We had a good run, honey. Will you take some advice from an old man??
?That'?s the only kind of vice I don'?t like,? Nancy says, her face hard again.
?Ad
vice.?
Walt holds her eye, forcing her to see him straight.
?Okay, okay, let?s hear it.?
?It?s nothing you haven'?t heard before. But I want you to listen this time. Find another line of work.?
?Great. Thanks, granddad. You know how hard it is in this town to find a job that pays what I make on my back??
?Find a new town. Girls don'?t live long in this racket.?
For a few brief seconds Nancy looks back at him without affect, completely vulnerable, almost hopeful, but then a dealer calls a win, and she blinks, and the walls go back up, her eyes as opaque as plaster marbles.
?Take care, Nancy. And thanks. You brought me luck.?
CHAPTER
47
Caitlin has no idea how long she?s been locked in the car trunk when the vehicle finally stops. As soon as she woke up, she found a taillight with her foot and kicked it out, but though she stuck her hand through the hole and waved it wildly, no one stopped the car.
Two doors open and close, then the trunk pops open. Someone lifts the lid. She hears gruff commands?the accents Irish. Powerful hands seize her and lift her out of the trunk, letting her feet dangle to the ground. Fear is loose in her like a wild thing, but she keeps telling herself that if they meant to kill her, they could have done it before now. She?s glad they'?re holding her up. With the hood over her head, it?s difficult to maintain balance.
?I'm holding a Taser,? says a voice. ?Try to run, I'?ll juice you. You won'?t like it. I can tell you from experience.?
They march her forward at a rapid clip, then stop. There?s a jangle of keys. Suddenly she hears panting. A barrage of barking erupts close to her, and she hears heavy bodies slamming into a Cyclone fence. All at once she remembers Linda?s note, about Quinn feeding Ben Li to dogs.
?Get ?em back!? shouts an Irishman. ?Goddamn it, go! Use bait if you have to.?
One man lets go of Caitlin, but the yammering dogs keep hitting the fence. Caitlin wants to speak, but duct tape holds her jaw immo
bile. After about a minute, the dogs race away and slam into what must be a different fence. There?s a metallic rattle, then the sound of an opening gate.
The man drags her through, then opens a door and leads her into a closed space that stinks of urine, old food, and dirty animals. She smells alcohol too, rubbing alcohol, plus other medical odors she can?t identify. The floor feels like bare cement. They march her twenty steps, then stop and open another door with a key. This sounds like a real door, not a gate. Someone shoves her between the shoulder blades, driving her into the room. She almost stumbles, but keeps her feet long enough to collide with a wall opposite the door.
?We?re going to take the hood off. Be still, or you get the juice. Nod if you understand.?
Caitlin nods once.
The black hood is whipped off her head, and blinding fluorescent light stabs her eyes. After a few seconds, she realizes it?s just a cheap bulb, and her vision clears. One man stands in front of her, wearing a balaclava mask. His lips show through the mask; they look bright red, filled with blood. His eyes are gray and hungry.
?Take off your clothes,? he says.
?What??
?Get ?em off!?
?No.?
He jabs the Taser at her. ?You do it or I do. It?ll hurt less if you do it.?
?Why do you want my clothes??
?Fuckin? hell, you mouthy cunt. Do what I tell ya!?
Caitlin pulls her T-shirt over her head, then slides her jeans down and steps out of them.
?Panties too. Everything.?
With a hiss of anger, she pulls down the panties and tosses them at his feet.
?Not bad,? he says, his voice muffled by the hood. ?A little skinny for my taste, but, damn, you?re a thoroughbred, aren'?t you??
?What do you think this is going to accomplish??
?Ah?well, that?s up to your boyfriend, I reckon. You too. Lucky for you, he?s got something we need. But let?s see how coop erative you can be, eh? You shave it a little close down there, don'?t ya? I like it natural.?
It takes a supreme act of will, but Caitlin turns and faces the wall. A barred window is set in it, but the bars don'?t look strong enough to hold a determined prisoner. She expects to feel the bite of the Taser at any moment, but all she hears is a closing door.
She starts to turn, but then the door opens again, just wide enough for a head. ?Hey, I like that side too. Better than the front, I think. I'?ll be seein? ya, princess. Oh, yeah. Lots to look forward to.?
This time when the door closes, a key turns in the lock, a heavy bolt shoots home, and muted steps go down the corridor.
Caitlin turns slowly in place, taking in every detail of the room. It?s a simple square with plywood
