Brute Force

113

Lemony perfume did momentary battle with the diesel fumes and the attack stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

The throbbing of the engines increased. She had left the door open.

I opened one eye. A line of bright white det cord ran down the middle of the knackered red lino out in the corridor.

She hunkered down alongside me. Luxuriant brown hair brushed fleetingly across my cheek.

'Who betrayed us, Nick? Who gave up the Bahiti and my father?'

I kept looking down, waiting for a slap, a punch, a kick, but nothing came. She sounded very calm, very collected, but I could feel the anger burning in her eyes.

'You're dead anyway, Nick. It's not as if you're helping yourself. The woman and that wee little girl, and those two friends of yours from Dublin – they're the ones you can save.'

I stayed clenched, ready to accept the punishment.

I gave it a few more seconds.

'I'm giving you fuck all until I'm sure they're safe.'

Her breath whistled as she stood up. 'You're giving me precisely what I want you to give me, or your friends will die in the most painful ways even you can imagine.'

She stepped back into the corridor.

Box-cutter grabbed my right arm and forced it up. Not even bothering to roll up my sleeve, he jabbed an autojet into the bicep.

My world went into slow motion again. Even his shouting against my ear was muffled and blurred.

I felt myself drift away as my central nervous system closed down and there wasn't a thing I could do about it. The urge to sleep was just too strong.

Fuck it, I needed the rest anyway.

Fifteen seconds and I was gone.