A heartrending scream of agony announced the metal’s piercing of the flesh and cutting in a revolving path inside the body, producing acute, excruciating pain. The relentless point came out through his ribs. Very slowly, the torturer’s extremely steady hand withdrew the instrument. The damage was done, to the captain’s body and to the mental states of both Sarah and Marius Ferris, who watched, horror stricken. The suffering showed on the captain’s sweat-drenched face, contorted with pain.
“And now? Would someone like to say something?” the assistant asked. “Isn’t it starting to seem better to have us take care of the papers?”
“What would seem better to me is a nice hamburger,” Rafael suggested.
The assistant approached him, stone-faced, eyeing him directly.
“Is there something else you’d like to share with us?”
“With cheese, extra cheese. And smothered with ketchup.”
The assistant held his stare, inches away from Rafael’s face.
“I think Jack needs an appetizer. Something to remind him of what he shouldn’t do to his mates.” He signaled the servant. “Like betray them, for instance. That’s a no-no.” He stepped back to make way for the servant, who still held the terrible torture instrument he’d used on Raul.
Rafael didn’t change his sarcastic tone. He was well aware that the two men knew he was no ordinary person. They could tear him to shreds if they wanted, and he would let them kill him without saying a word. But that couldn’t save him from torture.
“Aren’t you going to clean the blood off that gadget?” he asked the Pole. “I could get an infection.” He turned to Raul. “No offense, Captain.”
“You can’t imagine the pleasure it’ll give me to cut you up, piece by piece, and watch you bleed like a pig until your last breath,” the torturer said, his face very close to Rafael’s, making sure he caught every word.
“At your disposal,” Rafael responded, “whatever you want.”
The servant answered the provocation, spitting in his face. There were many things he wanted to say, but it was better to concentrate his rage on the tool he was holding in his hand. The Pole savagely tore Rafael’s shirt, scattering most of the buttons on the floor.
“Stop that. Nobody here is going to gut anybody.”
The female voice filled the room, by surprise, catching everyone’s attention. All heads turned to look at the one who had spoken with such unqualified firmness.
“It’s a pleasure to see there’s one sensible person in the room, and that she has decided to be merciful to her companions,” the assistant said, facing Sarah, the one who expressed herself so unexpectedly.
“It’s hard to find anyone with any sense in this room,” she answered convincingly. “Tell your friend to back off.”
The assistant hesitated a few seconds, but finally ordered the servant to step back.
“Start talking,” he ordered.
“No, not yet. I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but-”
“Shut up,” Rafael interrupted her.
“You can’t do it, Sarah,” her father pleaded in a weak voice.
The servant hit Rafael with a well-aimed, painful smack.
“Shut up. Let her talk.”
“Please continue,” the assistant asked Sarah, regaining control of the situation.
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” Sarah repeated, “but only to the one in charge.”
“What?” The assistant seemed startled. “I’m the one in charge here.”
“No, you aren’t. You’re only an employee,” Sarah staunchly contradicted him. “What I know, I’ll tell J.C., and no one else.”
The Pole was astonished.
“Who do you think you are, giving orders here?”
A look from the assistant made him stop. Sarah was playing her card. She had earned that right.
“J.C. won’t speak with you. It’s better for you to say whatever you have to say now.”
“You want something that we have. I’m ready to give it to you, but that’s my condition and it’s not negotiable. I’ll only talk to J.C. Otherwise, you can continue with your torture until you kill us all. Nobody will say anything.”
The assistant walked over to Sarah, took out a gun with a silencer, and balanced it on her forehead.
“Who do you think you are, making demands on me?” His voice had a chilling tone, a mix of anger and impatience. “Haven’t you realized your situation? You’re in no position to demand anything. Tell me what you know.”
“If there’s anybody here who can demand anything, it’s me. I may be in chains, but if that’s the case, it’s because I’ve got what you want,” Sarah said defiantly. “Take the gun off my forehead and do what I say. Call J.C.”
“Don’t abuse my patience,” the man threatened, switching off the safety on the gun. “Nobody’s calling J.C. Talk.”
Sarah was determined not to submit, not to give up. She wanted to close her eyes, but even that could be interpreted as a sign of weakness, just when the man in the Armani suit pointed his gun and prepared to shoot.
“Your stubbornness only makes it worse,” Sarah said, in a final attempt to convince him. It could all be over in seconds, her life and that of the others, but if she could manage to open a tiny crack in the assistant’s resolve, there was a chance to save everyone. Perhaps she could find it, risking a bit more. “Surely your boss won’t be pleased to have you waste our lives without any tangible results.”
“Don’t underestimate my intelligence. For the last time, spill it, or your father will be without a daughter.”
“You’re risking too much,” Sarah challenged in desperation. “If you think killing me will solve the problem, you’re very mistaken. You’ll create another, bigger problem.”
“Shut up.” The man was incensed. “One of you is going to talk. There’s always someone who ends up talking.”
“Stop,” said a voice behind them, catching everybody’s attention. The assistant turned toward the doorway, where the Master had called out the order. He leaned on his usual cane and was carrying a black briefcase.
“Sir,” the assistant began, removing the weapon from Sarah’s head.
“Silence,” the Master answered. “Would you like to talk with me?” he asked Sarah.
“If you’re J.C., then yes,” the young woman answered, her eyes wide, as though she were confused by the turn of events.
The old man turned around and walked away.
“Bring her along.”
“But, sir,” the assistant mumbled.
“Bring her over here,” the old man repeated, now from the hallway. His tone allowed no rebuttal. “And leave the others alone until further notice.”
55
For Geoffrey Barnes, one of New York ’s greatest advantages was the food. For the first time in several days, he enjoyed a first-rate lunch in a good restaurant. He was now much calmer, and understood that the whole business with Jack was part of the job. A game, which Jack had played masterfully, making him lose his head. It was apparent that if Barnes had been able to dispose of Jack at will, he would have handled the matter differently. That bastard, that sly fox, realized this, and knew how and when to take advantage of him.
To hell with the Italian, or whatever he might be. The fact that he spoke the language didn’t necessarily mean he was from that country. The man had said categorically, “Nobody dies without my authorization.” And when the boss spoke, everybody bowed their heads and obeyed. In that moment of confusion, he lost track of his orders. He got caught in the trap Jack set for him. It wasn’t easy to avoid. It was a mistake to have lost his temper.
But it was better not to think about it anymore. He devoted himself to enjoying the rest of his meal, his eyes already set on the dessert. And then his cell phone rang, the damned cell phone that robbed him of marvelous moments like this. He fished it out of his pocket without paying attention to who was calling.