The blond woman swallowed hard, replied, "They want Emily, and Emily doesn't function well without me. How did you know. .?"
"Let me ask the questions for now," I said, removing the last length of rope. There looked to be enough of it for my purposes. "Why do they want Emily?"
The woman rubbed her wrists and ankles to restore circulation, got to her feet, then helped the younger woman, whom I had freed first, get to hers. They stood for a few moments staring at me, their arms around each other. They looked at one another, then back at me. "She's an empath," Sharon Stephens replied at last.
"An empath?"
"Emily is extremely sensitive to what other people are feeling."
"You mean she's like a mind reader, a telepath?"
"No. Simply what I said."
"Just what the CIA needs, somebody who's sensitive to other people's feelings," I replied curtly. "You can tell me all about it later. Right now, you can both give me a hand dragging those two hotshots in here. I want them under that low-hanging beam over there by your beds. Let's move fast."
The women did as they were asked, each of them taking one of the bleeding, unconscious Judy's ankles and dragging her out of the kitchen, while I performed the same service for Punch. I tied their wrists separately with the ropes they had used to truss the psychiatrist and Emily. Then I tossed the ends of the ropes over the low-hanging beam above my head, pulled both assassins up until only their toes were touching the floor, tying off the ends of the ropes to an exposed pipe in the wall. Then I went back into the kitchen, retrieved Punch's.22 pistol, brought it back, and handed it to the blond woman.
"Did your former employers teach you how to use a gun?"
"No."
"Well, it isn't rocket science. It's loaded. Just point it at the chest of anybody who comes through that door who doesn't look like me, and then pull the trigger. Don't hesitate, don't ask questions, and don't threaten. Just aim and shoot. Use both hands."
"I'm not sure I can do that."
"Then the chances are pretty good that both of you will be gone if friends of this couple show up before I get back. They'll be professional killers."
"Where are you going?"
"Not far. The electronics store downstairs. I need a tape recorder."
"I have a small one in my purse."
"Ah. That should save me a trip."
Sharon Stephens retrieved her purse from the space between the mattresses. She took out a small, voice-activated tape recorder and handed it to me, along with the gun. I stuck the gun in my waistband, pointed to the small spool of tape inside the recorder, continued, "What's on here?"
"Just conversations I had with various drug company executives. There's nothing on the tape worth keeping."
"You've got that right," I said as I punched the rewind button. "Lorminix, the last place you visited, is the company that manufactured your little wonder drug."
Her jaw dropped slightly, and she put a hand to her mouth. "How did you find that out?"
"Not now, Doctor," I said, striding over to the steel door, which I closed and locked. "I don't know how much time we've got before somebody tries to contact these two, or comes looking for them, and I don't want to be interrupted. You two might want to excuse yourselves into the kitchen for a few minutes, maybe turn on the water if it gets too noisy in here. You're not going to like what I'm about to do."
The women stayed where they were. Both Punch and Judy had regained consciousness, and were beginning to moan in pain. I quickly searched through Punch's pockets until I found what I was looking for, his stun gun. Both grimaced and looked away, obviously not liking what they saw.
I continued, "I guarantee the two of you are going to get a charge out of seeing me again."
"Don't," the woman whispered weakly, blood dribbling out of her broken mouth.
I pressed the voice activation on the tape recorder, set it down on the floor at their feet. Then I held up the stun gun. "Now, let's see if
I can get the hang of how this thing works," I said, and jabbed the steel prongs into Punch's exposed belly. I held it there for a second or two while he screamed and thrashed, then took it away and let him hang and twitch while I turned my attention to Judy. One of the woman's eyes was swollen shut, but the other was open wide, glittering with terror as I held the stun gun up in front of her. "You know the drill, madam," I continued. "I need the answers to a few questions, and I'm going to use the interrogation technique you taught me. First, I get your attention-"
"Stop it!" Sharon Stephens shouted as I started to extend the stun gun toward Judy's rib cage. "You don't have to torture them!"
"I appreciate your fine sensibilities, Doctor," I said over my shoulder. "I'm sure they were honed at Rivercliff. I told you to excuse yourself. Information these two have might be able to save the lives of the rest of your patients, and I don't have time to fool around with lies."
"You don't need to torture them. Emily can tell you what they're feeling."
"Believe me, lady, I already know from personal experience how they're feeling. They feel downright rotten."
"That isn't what I mean. She'll know if they're telling the truth."
"Explain," I said, turning around to face the psychiatrist.
The woman shrugged, then glanced at the frail girl, who was still clinging to her. "Emily's just very sensitive to people's feelings-their reactions, body language, tone of voice. She can tell if people are lying or telling the truth. She just senses it."
Well, well. An empath. Emily was beginning to sound remarkably like my brother, and some things I'd only suspected about the CIA's motives were becoming clearer to me. "How reliable is she?"
"I told you she's the reason we're both still alive. She's more reliable than any polygraph. I'm not just saying that; she's been thoroughly tested."
I nodded. "And that's the reason the Chill Shop wants her."
Sharon Stephens frowned. "I don't understand what you mean. What's the 'chill shop'?"
"The Company's BUHR-Bureau of Unusual Human Resources."
"I worked for the CIA, yes, but I've never heard of this BUHR."
"Well, Doctor, my guess is that they're the people who paid for the work you did at Rivercliff. Listen up, and you may learn something." I paused, extended my hand toward the frail younger woman. "Emily, will you help me? I need to know if these two people who came for you answer my questions truthfully."
Emily looked at Sharon Stephens, who nodded. Then the dark-haired woman took my hand, and I led her over to where Punch and Judy were strung up to the ceiling beam. She sat down on the floor at their feet, next to the tape recorder, crossed her legs, and stared up into their faces. Punch and Judy, looking decidedly unhappy, stared back at her.
"What about you two?" I asked, looking back and forth between the two assassins. "You ever heard of the Chill Shop?"
Neither answered. I clucked my tongue in disapproval, waggled the stun gun at them, then stepped toward Punch.
"Yes!" the man said quickly. "We. . work for them. It's like you said."
I glanced down at Emily, who looked up at me and nodded her head.
"Excellent," I said, and crouched down close to the recorder. "Hello, Captain. This is the arrogant, publicity-seeking, interfering dwarf prick speaking. I trust I have your attention. I have here for you a couple of early Christmas presents, along with their taped confessions-inadmissible as evidence, of course, but they should help you get your very own confessions. Now you'll know everything I know, and I'm sure you'll put the information to good use. I'm leaving Punch's gun here next to the tape recorder, and I'll bet you a dinner that ballistics tests will match it to the bullet found in the skull of the corpse in the Dumpster. Ho-ho-ho on you."
Judy moaned, whispered, "They'll pay you … a great deal of money if you … let us go."