Peril

STARK

As he ran the water over the towel, he thought of Marisol. Where was she now? he wondered, and the range of possible answers paraded through his mind. He saw her as mere earth, as ash, as smoke, then in wasted but recognizable remains, and finally, at the end of a long series of progressively more vivid mental photographs, he saw her waiting in some other world, dazzlingly beautiful as she lifted her arms toward him. He remembered the joyful relief that had broken over her face as he told her that it was over, that he’d confronted the man who sought her, forced him to relent, and so knew absolutely that she was safe.

But Lockridge had not relented. Instead, he had gone back to Henderson and reported everything Stark had told him, then listened to the grim instruction and steeled himself to obey it, All right, we do it tonight.

The towel was soaked with water, and as he walked toward the man tied to the chair, Stark heard its heavy drip splatter against the concrete floor. It was a method he’d used only once before, and it had worked quickly. Only one application and Lockridge had given him Henderson’s name, then pleaded with Stark to let him live.

“Who sent you?” he asked as he stepped over to the man in the chair.

The man began to shake despite the fact that he was clearly trying to control it, a futile effort Stark could see in the white-knuckled grip of the hands to the metal arms of the chair.

“I want his name.”

The man was shaking so fiercely, the metal chair rattled with his convulsions, and Stark marveled at the way the human body reacted to terror. The jerking head, the legs racked in violent spasms, the clawing fingers, all of it orchestrated by small, childlike whimpers.

He placed his hand on the naked shoulder, and the man jerked away as if a red-hot iron had been pressed against his skin.

“Are you Mortimer’s friend?” Stark demanded. “Or do you just work for Mortimer’s friend?”

He took the picture Mortimer had brought in the packet from his “friend” and held it before the man in the chair.

“You see this woman? Who’s looking for her?”