She turned away from him and would have jumped, had she been able. A man with a bushy moustache was staring at her, a pipe in his mouth, a hand in his apron. He was smiling. She responded with a snigger.
“Can’t you see that he’s dying?”
A second man approached. He looked more threatening. He was staring at her too. The first one opened the door of the other cell, and they both entered.
“You’re right. We’re going to calm him down right now. Hans?”
The second man pulled a pistol out of his jacket and placed it against the dying man’s temple.
The detonation rang through the cellar.
“No,” Jade screamed as a geyser of blood and flesh hit the wall. The vision of her father flashed in her mind, with his head on the armrest, the puddle of blood on the floor. The nightmare all over again. A bullet in the head.
But she wasn’t a little girl now, and the fear wasn’t paralyzing her. She was furious. It was an icy rage that emanated from a dark place that would always be there.
“You sons of bitches!”
The man with the moustache entered her cell, sat down beside her, and patted her thigh. He was wearing a strange expression. He shook his head, set his pipe on the floor, and, with a mischievous look in his eye, said, “I am the gardener. What’s your favorite flower?”
48
Marcas took the steps two by two. He’d gotten Zewinski’s address from Darsan. His irritation with her had given way to anxiety. He had a bad feeling about her being late. Now he was almost in a panic. He couldn’t get up the steps fast enough, and when he reached the third floor, his heart started pounding. Her apartment door had been pried open. He advanced quickly, back against the wall, his service revolver in front of him. He used his foot to push the door all the way open and immediately saw the place had been tossed. After a quick check to make sure all was clear, he pulled out his phone.
“Alexis?”
“Antoine, great to hear from you. I’m back in Paris, you know.
“Can you get your buddies to locate Zewinski’s cell phone?”
“Have things gone that far already? Really, you should take it slower with a broad like that.”
“Look, she’s disappeared and she’s not answering her phone.”
“Don’t take it so personally.”
“I’m serious. Her place has been tossed, and it looks like some nasty folks are behind the Dawes murder. Locate Zewinski for me. Now.”
“Okay, okay. I’m on it. Anything else I should know?”
“Yeah, check with our contacts in Israel. Find out if any known traffickers have left the country. I also need to know about any developments in the investigation of the murder at the archeological institute?”
49
“Who are you?”
“I told you. I am the gardener.”
The man did look the job. Jade sat up and saw him searching through his apron pocket.
“Why am I here?”
“I don’t know. I just want to know your favorite flower.”
“I hate flowers. Too bad.”
The man pulled a small pair of pruning shears out of his pocket and waved them in front of her eyes.
“That’s impossible. Everyone loves flowers, especially women. I’ll have to teach you some manners.”
He applied the gardening tool to her big toe. Jade understood the dying man’s bandages. She didn’t even tremble as her training kicked in. She had learned all the ins and outs of torture: sensory deprivation, drugs, electricity, and all manner of instruments for delivering pain. Inflicting repeated violence on a subject was an age-old practice and often highly effective. It had been favored in Pinochet’s Chile and General Videla’s Argentina, with a little help from the CIA.
The Arab’s death had served as a preview, preparing her psychologically for what lay ahead. But there was no way she would let this bastard with a mustache see any fear. If he planned to cut her up, he wasn’t going to take any pleasure in it. She knew the pain would be horrendous, but she conjured up an image of Sophie and focused all her hate on the henchman.
“Before you start your gardening, I want to ask you a question.”
The man stopped what he was doing and looked thrown off.
“Um… Okay.”
“I’ve heard that torturers like you are impotent. I read a study. They enjoy inflicting pain because they can’t get it up. Is that true in your case?”
The blood drained from moustache man’s face.
“Hans, leave us,” he said, waving the assistant away. “I need to have a little talk with this young lady. She has some wayward ideas that could use a trim. I think her cries might be too much for even you.”
He looked her up and down, biting his lip.
“A woman who doesn’t like flowers and doubts my virility. For once, I’m going to innovate and start with the ears.”
He slowly aimed the pruners at her head, but Jade didn’t struggle. She knew her torturer was waiting for the first sign of fear. She plastered a smile on her face, trying to upset the balance of power.
He opened the metal blades and slipped them gently around her right ear, almost like a caress. Jade closed her eyes and tightened her fists to concentrate her energy.
The man leaned in. She could smell his sour breath tinged with the acrid odor of pipe tobacco.
“In five minutes, you will beg me to stop, and I won’t.”
Just as he was about to apply pressure to the shears, a woman’s voice rang out. “That’s enough, gardener. Leave her alone.”
The man straightened and looked at the bars. The sadist was now clearly angry. “How dare you interrupt me? I have explicit orders.”
The woman on the other side of the bars raised her voice. “Mine are more important. Sol wants me to bring her upstairs so I can take care of her personally. Get out of here now. And take your gorilla Hans with you.”
“Nobody talks to me that way, young lady. Do you know who I am in this organization?”
“Yes, and I don’t give a crap. Do you want me to tell Sol that you disobeyed?”
Fuming, the gardener put his pruners away. “I only have your word for it. Just this time. She’ll eventually get what she deserves. I’ve never tried a woman’s blood on my little protégés.”
He turned and smiled at Jade. “I’ll be back soon.”
He opened the cell door and left with his man. Joana walked in and sat down on the mattress.
“Just in the nick of time. You owe me one.”
Jade looked at her with disdain. “You won’t get any gratitude from me. I know who you are. You killed my friend in Rome.”
“Yes. She was a little too easy for my taste. You, however, are a much more interesting target. We have things to talk about, the two of us, but I must take some precautions.”
Joana took out a small leather bag and removed a silver ring with a pointed mount. She put it on her index finger. Before Jade could react, the killer pressed the ring against her bare foot. A drop of blood rose at the puncture wound.
“You’re lucky, Jade. Gallons of blood have been spilled in this cellar. But today, not a drop of your blood will go on the floor. You’re going to sleep for fifteen minutes while I take you upstairs.”
Jade felt her head spinning again, as it had when she was kidnapped. She wanted to say something, but she was already elsewhere.
50
They’d localized Zewinski in the Chevreuse area about an hour southwest of Paris. More, actually, because Marcas was stuck in a traffic jam leaving the beltway — commuters heading home. It was the wrong time of day to get kidnapped. Dammit, Zewinski!
He called Marc Jouhanneau as he drove.