A dripping noise roused Emma Clancy, and of all the abuse she’d suffered, this latest debasement hurt most. She screamed in torment, throwing herself against the bonds holding her upright, caring less that the Velcro straps rubbed raw spots on her wrists.
‘Keep it down, why don’t you?’
The voice came from the swarthy fat man who’d originally gagged and tied her up during her abduction; also her unhappy jailer who’d kept watch over her for the past few hours. He was only one of at least half a dozen men who’d taken a turn at guard since she’d been brought here. Strung up trophy-like, stripped to her briefs, the men had enjoyed private moments with her, pawing at her breasts and backside, then laughing as she kicked and spat at them. Pigs! They were disgusting scum, taking enjoyment in her torment. The fat man was different, but her ordeal had nothing to do with her latest jailer’s displeasure.
‘I’ve wet myself!’ Emma sobbed. ‘I warned you I needed to pee and you wouldn’t let me!’
‘And I told you that you were going nowhere. So you’ve pissed yourself. Get over it.’ The fat man rubbed a palm over his balding crown, and grunting, he pushed up from his seat. ‘Believe me, you think you’ve got problems now, you’ve no idea.’
‘You can’t treat me like this,’ Emma cried.
‘It’s not my decision. But unless I’m ready to trade positions with you, I have to do as I’ve been told. Trust me: this isn’t fun for me either.’
‘Fun? You talk of fun while a woman is tortured in your place? You’re as insane as all the rest of them.’ Emma aimed a kick at the man.
Her foot fell short by a full yard, yet he still flinched.
‘Stop that,’ he warned. ‘So I’m unhappy that you’ve been brought here. But it is what it is, and there’s nothing I can do to change that. So try hurting me, and I will bust your face.’
‘You won’t touch me!’
‘Try me, we’ll see.’
‘No. You’re not like the others. I can tell you don’t want any part of this. It’s Albert Sower. He’s making you do this. Listen to me … if you let me go now, if you help me get away, I promise I’ll speak in your defence. I’ll explain how you were being coerced under threat …’ Her words fell silent as he sharply raised a palm.
‘You seen what happened to Mitch Delaney, right? That’s what came of working with you.’ The fat man moved towards her, looking her up and down. There was nothing lascivious in his gaze as it swept over her bare breasts, or down her flat stomach to her wet panties. ‘This! This is what happens to anyone who goes against Sower. Don’t you get it?’
‘Sower’s caged in the special management unit, on twenty-three-hour lockdown. He can’t touch you. He—’
The fat man rushed at her, and his hands went round her throat, choking off her words. He squeezed, his face pressing close to hers. His spittle was hot on her face, but he released his grip. ‘It’s not fucking Albert who terrifies me, you stupid bitch! His hand is in this, yes, but he only thinks he’s guiding the knife. He’s not the one who’s fucking holding it, and he won’t be the one still holding it after all this is over with.’ His hands fell from her neck, and he stepped back, his eyes dazed as he shook his head. ‘Don’t you get it?’
Emma thought she did. Albert had sealed his fate, though he’d had assistance in doing so. He would never be released from prison now, and the latest killings, and even her abduction, had been designed to ensure that. When she’d visited him at the prison he’d boasted that the personification of his will was strong and directed, but he was only partly correct. This was more about free will and misdirection. A power play was afoot, a coup where Albert’s prime position at the head of this criminal empire was about to be usurped. Emma understood that her murder was the event that would crown the new king.
‘You have to let me go,’ Emma wheezed. ‘How does anyone expect to get away with this? You’re lucky there’s no death penalty in Maine, but trust me, you will all go to prison for a very long time. That includes you!’
‘Only if anyone discovers you were held here. If I have my way you won’t be found anywhere near.’ He walked away, approaching a galvanized steel sink. ‘We know that Albert isn’t getting out, and probably never will, but that’s the way it’s supposed to be. He won’t be seen to go down easily. That’s why it’s been made to look as if he’s taking out everyone he has a beef with. That includes you, Mrs Clancy, and anyone else working for the DA on his case. There’ll be nobody left who can tie me to what’s been going on here.’
‘The investigation won’t end with Albert. Every last person involved in this madness will be hunted down and arrested!’
‘That’s the thing; the cops will be chasing bigger prizes than the likes of me. All I have to do is keep quiet, do as I’m told, and once it’s over and done with, I’ll go back to doing what I do best. Selling fucking lobster and crab cakes to tourists.’
‘No. You won’t get away with this. You’ll go to prison with all the rest.’ Emma was almost breathless. ‘They’ll find this place, and when they do …’
The man turned on a faucet.
‘They’ll find nothing evidential,’ he said, and aimed the nozzle of a sluicing hose at her. The water was icy as it spattered her body, and she recoiled from it. The man followed her jerking movements, washing away the urine that had dripped down her legs. When he was happy she was clean, he directed the stream of water at the puddle, forcing it into the gutter between her feet. Emma still danced to avoid the blast, and the man shook his head at her ingratitude. He directed the spray at her again, making her shriek.
‘Had your fun yet, Vas?’
The new voice brought them both to a halt.
A stranger had entered the room, a fair-haired man with a cruel twist to his mouth. Emma forced herself around in her bonds, eyeing him as a possible saviour. He wasn’t, not if Vasilis Katsaros’ reaction was anything to go by. The fat man visibly deflated, but it was in relief.
‘You’re back, Welshy! Thank God. If I’d to stay here much longer I’m sure this bitch would send me nuts. The sooner this is over with the fucking better. Does that crazy man realize how much business I’ve lost shutting up shop like this?’
Welshy held up a warning finger. ‘Don’t let Hector hear you calling him that, and do you really think he gives a goddamn fuck about your business?’
‘All he cares about is getting his own sick rocks off,’ Vasilis muttered.
Shaking his head, Welshy glanced at Emma, and for her benefit said, ‘He cares more about avenging Albert.’
‘We all know that’s bullshit,’ Vasilis snorted. ‘And so does she.’
‘You fucking told her?’ Welshy stepped forward, his right hand curling into a fist.
‘Why not?’ Vasilis challenged him. ‘It’s not as if she’s going to be able to tell anyone, is it?’
Welshy considered the truth. ‘OK,’ he conceded, ‘maybe Hector does have his own plans, but they’re not at the expense of avenging Albert.’
Vasilis sneered. ‘So he says, but even if he wasn’t on some revenge trip he’d still be hacking people to pieces.’
‘Just be thankful it isn’t you, Vas.’
‘Where is the mad bastard anyway?’ He glanced at Emma. ‘Sharpening his knives?’
‘He’s getting kitted out. You know how Hector enjoys dressing for the occasion, right?’ Welshy stage-whispered at Emma. ‘He wants to look his best for you, m’dear.’
‘Who … who is Hector?’ When Albert Sower had spoken of his killer it had been through metaphor, and Emma had conjured in her mind some kind of shadowy bogey man: giving him a name made him more terrifying than the faceless figure lurking at the edge of her imagination.
‘You don’t know? Even after all the extensive files you must’ve compiled on Albert Sower, you don’t know about Hector Suarez?’ Welshy laughed at her ineptitude. He had also come to the same conclusion as Vasilis, telling her the truth would make no difference considering she would very soon be dead. ‘Surely you looked at Albert’s family connections from back in Bolivia, from before he arrived here?’
‘You’re talking about his brother? But … Hector Suarez died,’ she croaked, realizing that her information was woefully misinformed. ‘When he was killed, didn’t Albert replace him as head of the family …’
‘Yeah, Albert took the reins. But he also saved Hector’s life, and Hector has worked to repay him as honour dictates.’ He delivered those final words in a poor attempt at a Spanish accent. ‘Don’t ask me, Clancy: those greaseballs have some fucked-up ideas about honour traditions. All I know is Hector feels he owes Albert one last act of servitude, then his debt is paid and he’ll be his own man again.’
He grinned maliciously.
‘Vas has a point: even if Hector weren’t on this supposed revenge kick, he’d still be doing what he does best. He’s kind of fucked up in here.’ Welshy tapped the side of his head. ‘Mrs Clancy, you won’t believe what Hector’s got planned for you. But don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough.’
Emma lost the power of speech. Shivers assailed her, and her shaking jingled the overhead pulley. Welshy coughed out a laugh, then turned his back on her. Vasilis still stood with the sluicing hose, though he’d turned off the faucet.
‘Jacky Boy’s back too. We had quite the little adventure down in the boonies with Hector and our old buddy Crawford Wynne. I’m sure Jacky’ll be happy to tell you the story. Go find him, Vasilis, have yourselves a smoke.’ He aimed a thumb over his shoulder. ‘I’m not sure you’ve the stomach for what Hector’s got in mind for Mrs Clancy.’
Jamming the hose in the sink, Vasilis wasn’t about to argue. He rubbed his hands over his head, moving past Emma for the door. Emma twisted in her bonds. ‘Please,’ she said. ‘Remember what I told you.’
‘Shut up,’ Vasilis snapped, his gaze darting for Welshy. The fair-haired man was watching. ‘Huh! She promised if I helped her escape she’d have the law go easy on me. Idiot!’
‘I’m happy you weren’t tempted by her lies,’ said a new figure that filled the doorway with his stocky frame.
Emma craned to see, and her mouth fell open.
Vasilis had come to a skidding halt. He had to be worried that the large man had overheard more than his final statement.
The man entered the room, and he was carrying a roll of duct tape in one gloved hand. ‘I wish to enjoy my time with our guest, and don’t want to miss a second while wondering how I’d deal with you, Greek.’
The man in the yellow fisherman’s slicker and orange waterproof trousers had to be Hector Suarez. Emma knew simply by Vasilis’ reaction to his unannounced arrival, and didn’t need the added detail.
‘I … I promise you, Hector, I didn’t believe a word she said,’ Vasilis bleated.
‘Then go have your cigarette with Jacky Boy.’ Hector’s smile was sadistic as he nodded at the door. He had been listening, and Emma wondered if the fat man would be punished for his insolence: somehow she felt no pity for him. Right then she was more concerned for her own hide.
Hector leaned down, wrapping the loose end of the duct tape around the cuff of his pants, sealing it to the gumboots on his feet. He’d already taped the cuffs of his coat to his gloves. His preparations were fastidious and all the more terrifying for it. There was only one reason he was proofing his clothing, and it wasn’t through a fear of being soaked by water.
‘Uh, you want me to stay?’ Welshy asked.
‘I need you and one other. The Greek is a weakling. Fetch another man, and have him bring a – how do you call it? – mop and bucket.’ He stood directly before Emma as he made his next announcement. ‘When I open your stomach, Emma Clancy, I think there will be much mess to contend with, no?’
‘You … you can’t do this to me,’ Emma croaked.
Hector snorted, then ran his tongue over his teeth. ‘I can, and I will. You have borne witness to my handiwork before, why would I change my ways now?’
‘I work on behalf of the Cumberland County District Attorney’s Office. Don’t you realize what they’ll do to you if you harm me in any way?’ Even as she said it, Emma knew she’d made a fatal mistake. Her words only bolstered his desire to hurt her. Albert Sower had declared war on the DA and all who worked for him, and this monster was the weapon by which he’d wage his war: the personification of his will. No, she remembered, as she stared back into the man’s lumpy, scarred visage and the bottomless pits of his eyes, this man didn’t work on Albert’s behalf. He was wilful in his own right, and this was about sating his warped desires. He delighted in pain and savagery, and there was no pity in his shrivelled heart. She shrieked in abstract terror, and even that was a mistake, because it brought him to her immediately.