Michael hit me across my mouth with the back of his hand. “You need to learn a few lessons, Vic, and one of them is to shut up when I tell you to.”
It stung a little but didn’t hurt. “I don’t have a long enough lifeline right now to learn new tricks, Mickey, and even if I did, yours just purely make me throw up.”
Michael stopped in the middle of the gangway and shoved me against the wall. “I told you to shut up, Vic. Do you want me to break your jaw to make you do it?”
I looked at him steadily, marveling that I’d ever found those dark angry eyes engaging. “Of course I don’t, Michael. But I have to wonder if beating me while I’m defenseless would make you feel powerful or ashamed?”
He held my shoulder with his left hand and tried to slam his right into my face. As he came forward I kicked him as hard as I could in the kneecap, hard enough to break it. He gave a sharp cry and dropped my shoulder.
I ran down the ramp, terribly hampered by my bound hands. Above me I heard Furey crying out, and then Ernie Wunsch calling down asking what the fuck was going on. I darted into the shadowy interior, tumbling over boards in the dark. I was making too big a racket—no one would have any trouble finding me.
I stopped running and moved cautiously forward until I came to a big pillar, steel with concrete poured around it. I sidled around behind it and stood there trying not to breathe out loud, scrabbling behind me trying to reach my gun. My arms were crossed in their cuffs, though, and I couldn’t reach far enough around.
A powerful flashlight stuck fingers out on the floor around me. I didn’t move.
“Let’s not play hide-and-seek here all night,” Ernie said. “Go get the aunt. She’ll flush her out.”
I still didn’t move. A couple of minutes later I could hear Elena’s breathless voice, squeaky with fear.
“What are you doing? You’re hurting me. There’s no need to hold me so hard. I don’t know how you were brought up, but in my day a true gentleman did not squeeze a lady’s arm hard enough to bruise it.”
Good old Elena. Maybe I’d find a happy death, laughing at her incongruous scolding.
“We have your aunt here, Warshawski.” It was Ron Grasso speaking now. “Call out to your niece, Auntie.”
He did something to make her scream. I flinched at the noise.
“Louder, Auntie.”
She screamed again, a cry of genuine pain. “Vicki! They’re hurting me!”
“We just broke a finger, Warshawski. We’ll break her bones one by one until you decide you’ve had enough.”
I swallowed bile and stepped out from behind my pillar. “Okay, he-men. I’ve had enough.”
“That’s a good girl, Vic,” Ernie said, moving toward me. “I always told Mickey there was a way to manage you if he just looked for it … Keep the light on her, Ronnie. Little bitch maybe broke Mickey’s knee. I don’t want her clawing at me.”
He came up to me and took my arm. “Now don’t you try anything, Vic, because Ron there will just start breaking your auntie’s fingers again if you do.”
“Vicki?” Elena quavered. “You’re not mad at poor old Elena, are you?”
I held out my cuffed hands to her. “Of course I’m not mad at you, sweetie. You did the best you could. You were very smart and brave to hide so long.”
What good would it have done to chew her out for not sharing the whole story with me from the beginning—or at least from her bed at Michael Reese.
“They hurt me, Vicki, they broke my little finger. I didn’t mean to scream and make them find you, but I couldn’t help it.” Her face was in shadow but I sensed the tears beginning to fall.
“No, no, sweetie, I know you couldn’t.” I patted the thin bones in her hands. They were fragile, exposed, as easy to break as sticks of china.
Behind Ron and Elena stood August Cray, the night project manager. “What happened to your security guard? He not in on the kill?” I asked. “And I don’t see dear little Star, either. She and I had such a nice chat this afternoon.”
Nobody answered me. “We’re just going to go for a ride, Vic,” Ron said. “You take it easy. There are three of us here and we can make it mighty unpleasant for both of you if you try any of your cute tricks on us.”
“Just three of you? What happened to Furey? Did I really get his kneecap? A shot like that takes a lot of practice.” I was amazed to hear myself sounding as chipper as a cheerleader. “You know, if he’s gone to the hospital, you’ve got a little problem—if my body’s discovered with his handcuffs on, I mean—it’s going to be awkward for the poor boy to explain that one away.”
“You’re not the only one around here with a brain, Warshawski, so don’t get your underwear in a bundle over that one.” Ernie’s sharper voice came from behind me. “Mickey won’t leave us holding the bag.”
“That’s right,” I said approvingly. “You’re all pals and pals gotta stick together, even unto death, at least the death of a whole lot of innocent bystanders.”