Dublowski stood. "Who do you have, Mike?"
Chapter Five
The girls were brought in, connected by a long thin chain that was run through a loop on the cuffs that bound their wrists. The interiors of the cuffs were lined with padding, to prevent any marking or scarring.
The five girls were all young, under twenty. They were draped in baggy white pants and smocks. Their faces were covered with veils, leaving only their eyes exposed. They were all short, ranging from a tad under five feet, to two inches over. Except for the last one in line. She was several inches taller, a willowy form overshadowing the others.
Their heads were bowed, except for that last girl. Her eyes were green and they darted about, checking out the room, then settling on the two men reclining on couches at the other end, fixing them with her glare.
The others all had blue eyes, but these dared not challenge the men, rather remaining fixed on the floor in front of their feet. Their shoulders were drooped, the cant of their bodies indicating defeat.
One of the men waved a hand festooned with rings and the guard who had escorted the girls halted them, then went down the line, grabbing their shoulders and forcing them to face the two men, their backs against a white-painted stucco wall.
The two men spoke in French, a language of choice and one they knew none of the girls understood.
"We have wasted enough time on them," the larger of the two men said. "They are expensive to keep and a security risk. We have much that needs to be done. We do not have time for this. We need to be going." He was without his sniper rifle but not a weapon, as a large-caliber revolver nestled in a shoulder holster.
"They are very valuable," the other man disagreed. In his right hand was the same vial he had had in Germany, made of titanium, the surface glittering in the light. His fingers rotated it from pinkie to thumb and then back, a habit he paid no conscious attention to, the titanium vial passing through the fingers and the rings that adorned them in an intricate dance.
"One is," the larger man said. "But the others… You are once more mixing business with personal—"
"I do what I do for us. It is the only way to gain our vengeance."
The larger man said nothing for a few seconds, then turned his attention back to the girls. "They are stubborn."
The vial stopped moving for a few seconds as the other man spoke. "They are stones plucked from the wild. We must find the jewel inside — if there is one. And then we must shape the stone. An unshaped diamond is not worth anywhere near as much as a finished one."
He nodded toward the girls. "They can be shaped. But it takes care and precision. And when they are done, they are perfect. You have to mine many rocks to find the perfect jewel. If we get the One from this batch, it will be worthwhile. It is not enough to bend them to your will, you have to bring out what is inside. The One must be willing on her own and that is very difficult to achieve."
"The One." The larger of the two men fidgeted. His hand caressed the butt of his pistol.
The first man sighed. "But you are right, my brother. They have been stubborn. We have wasted too much time on these. They are promising, but we must winnow out the unacceptable. Sometimes a hammer must be used to crack the stone to see if there is something valuable inside." He reached out a hand. "Give me your gun."
The larger man pulled his pistol out, but hesitated before offering it. "Remember not to damage the—"
"I know, I know." The smaller man took the pistol, then spoke in English. "Young ladies, your attention, please."
The girl at the end had been watching them the entire time, not understanding the words they spoke but trying to follow anyway. Now the other four lifted their faces.
"You know nothing right now. You don't know where you are. You don't why I have brought you here." His voice was low, so quiet the girls had to strain to hear him. It was as if he was speaking to himself. "You are to be a gift. The most valuable of gifts. One of you." His voice grew slightly louder. "One of you. Or maybe none of you. It will be up to you. One of you must accept her fate and become…" — he paused for a long second, then smiled at a memory—"the One."
The girl on the end started to say something, but his hand shot up and chopped down, stopping the first word before it exited her throat. "You will not speak. You are either the One already or you are not. Only time will tell. But we do not have forever."
He flipped open the chamber and emptied the bullets into his open palm. The gun was made of carbon steel, the handle of dark plastic. The barrel was four inches long and thick.
Once the gun was empty, he took one bullet and held it up. "This is a .45-caliber bullet." He slid it into one of the openings on the cylinder, then flipped it shut. "There are five of you. Six chambers in the gun. There is a good chance one of you will die. Then the others will be left to ponder their reluctance to accept your reality. Of course, there is a very slight chance all of you will live." He spun the cylinder.
He pointed the gun in the girls' general direction. "I am going to pull the trigger five times. Who wishes to be first?"
Confusion showed in the girl's eyes. The one on the end stepped forward. "Me."
"Very good." The man aimed down the long barrel and pulled back on the trigger. The double action pulled the hammer back until it was fully cocked. He kept pulling. The hammer slammed forward with a solid click, but no round went off. The girl's shoulders slumped in relief and she stepped back.
"The odds are now one in five," the man said. "Who is next?"
Another girl stepped forward. She thrust her chin forward, glaring at the man with the gun.
He pulled back on the trigger and the hammer crashed home on an empty-cylinder. "One in four now."
Two girls stepped forward at the same time. The man swiveled the gun at the one on the left in one smooth motion and pulled the trigger. The sound of the hammer on the empty chamber was still echoing when he had it trained on the second girl. She involuntarily stepped back as the hammer cocked, then slammed forward. Again on an empty chamber.
"Fifty-fifty now."
"No!" the remaining girl protested. "Please."
"You must step forward," the man said.
"No." The girl was sobbing. She fell to her knees, hands covering her head.
The man leveled the gun and pulled back on the trigger. Everyone in the room was riveted as the hammer poised in the cocked position. It flew forward, striking home on an empty chamber.
"What luck," the man said. He stepped forward and shoved the pistol under the kneeling girl's chin, the long front sight digging into her skin.
"Leave her alone!" the first girl who had stepped forward yelled. The guard jerked her chain, pulling her back.
"You lied!" the first girl spit out. The guard jerked the chain harder, causing her to stumble to her knees.
The man pulled the trigger, the hammer cocking. He continued through the pull and the hammer went forward. With just a click. The man laughed. He held up his other hand. A bullet was pinched between ringed fingers. It made the same journey through his fingers the vial had, appearing and disappearing. A small pool of urine spread out on the ground beneath the cowering girl.
"You bastard!" the girl who had been staring at him hissed. "You lied."
"I never lie," the man said. He flipped open the chamber of the revolver and slid the bullet in. He rotated it with a practiced move, pointed it at the fifth girl, who was still on the floor, her hands held out in front of her face.
"No!" the first girl yelled.
The man took a step back, leaving six feet between the end of the barrel and the girl's head. The hammer clicked back. The sound of the gun going off was thunderous in the enclosed space. The round hit the cowering girl, going through her hand and hitting her between the eyes. The body pitched backward as the large-caliber bullet exited the back of her head, taking most of her skull with it. Brains and blood splattered the wall and floor.