The lock at the top of the steps rattled, pulling Mal from uneasy sleep and waking the bruises covering most of his body. He stifled a moan as pain speared through cracked ribs. No sense letting Stu’s goons know he was awake.
Cold seeped into his body from the dirt floor and he shivered. He breathed shallowly, trying not to inhale the stench of his own waste in the corner slop bucket. His leg twitched, knocking into the heavy leg iron.
That damn manacle—they’d poured lead into the lock so he couldn’t pick it. That was the first clue he wasn’t leaving this basement on his feet, a suspicion confirmed when Stu showed up. Stu, who was Pete’s head of security and his main man until Mal came up with his grand plan.
Stu, who could not let Mal talk.
The lock rattled again. The jerks must be drunk if they can’t get the door open. What will it be this time? Another beating? Cigar burns? Will they finally kill me?
Creaking hinges. Mal shut his eyes, waiting for the lids to turn red when the bare bulb hanging overhead came on. He heard stealthy footsteps and cracked his eyes open. A faint beam of light bobbled on the stairs.
A flashlight. Not the goons.
The light wavered and stabbed through the dark as it came closer. It landed on him, blinding. A gasp, a frantic female whisper.
“Mal? What happened to you?”
“Lower the flashlight will you?” he hissed.
The light dropped away. “Sorry.”
Mal blinked several times before a pale oval appeared over him. Rose.
“Are you crazy? What are you doing here?”
“I—I heard noises. I had to see.”
“Where are they? They’ll kill you.”
“Uncle Stu won’t kill me, but they’re gone. We’ll hear the car when they come back. I don’t understand, Mal. Why are you here?”
Mal tipped his head back, gusted a sigh at the ceiling. Winced at the pain in his ribs. “Then there’s no need to whisper. Get me some water and I’ll tell you.”
Mal sat, propped against the stone foundation, exhausted from explaining. But finally, understanding appeared in Rose’s eyes.
“So you were helping Pete hide money before Moe Dalitz could steal it? And Uncle Stu decided to help himself?”
“In a nutshell.”
“But why are you here?”
“Because Pete hid the take and Stu wants to know where it is.”
“If they’re hurting you, why not tell them?”
Three days of torture and threats of dismemberment hadn’t made him squeal, and here he was spilling to a dame. If he was Stu, he’d send a sweet-faced angel to soften him up. Even if Rose was as innocent as he thought, Stu could get her to blab in a hot minute.
“Because I don’t know where it is. I could make something up, but talking won’t get me out of this. I bet Pete thinks Dalitz waylaid me. Stu can’t let Pete find out it was him.”
The Betty Boop mouth made an “O.” Emotions shifted across Rose’s face like racing clouds across the moon.
“I have to get you out of here.”
“No can do, doll.” He shook his leg so the chain rattled. “They poured lead in the lock. The only way I’m getting out of here is in pieces when they cut me up with that saw.”
He jerked his head at a workbench on the other side of the room. Rose turned her flashlight on the odd machine.
“What is that?”
“It’s called a circular saw. It’s electric. See that disk with the zig-zag edge? You press a button and it spins so fast you can’t see it. It’ll cut through me like butter.”
“Will it cut through the chain?”
Oh, how he wished. The yearning for freedom was so sharp his voice turned hoarse as he grabbed her hand.
“Forget it doll. If the blade didn’t snap, it’d take so long to cut through the chain you’d get caught. Go back up those stairs and pretend it’s rats down here. Pretend I ran off to Mexico. Whatever you do, don’t ever tell Pete what you know. Promise me.”
“But—”
“Pete trusts Stu. You tell Pete, Pete will ask Stu what you’re talking about, and Stu will kill you. You can’t risk it.”