The Killing Floor Blues (Daniel Faust #5)(74)

“Wiping out the evidence,” I said. “Since we opened all the doors, I can’t imagine any of the prisoners in there are still hanging around, but nobody will believe them. It’ll be their word against Lancaster and his staff.”

“We need to leave. Now. No telling how much time we have before the Guard arrives.”

We paused at a junction in the corridor. The alarm screamed over a loudspeaker, reverberating with my throbbing head.

“We can’t,” I said, “not yet. Jennifer’s in trouble out there, and Raymundo’s the best lead we have. We have to get the truth out of him.”

Caitlin wrinkled her nose, but she didn’t argue. The Ad Seg wing wasn’t far, just down a short flight of concrete steps painted with a long yellow line. The air in solitary was dank and cold, smelling like old mothballs. A duty log at an abandoned guard station told us which faceless cell was Raymundo’s, and they’d been kind enough to leave their keys behind.

The door rattled, swinging open onto darkness. Raymundo had been getting the same treatment I had: he huddled, naked and shivering, in a puddle of frigid water.

“I don’t have a lot of time,” I told him, “and I’m a lot more interested in saving my own neck than getting payback, so I’ll make this real easy. Tell us where Jennifer is, and we’ll leave you alone. Hell, I’ll even leave the door open behind me and give you a shot at escaping. Talk.”

He spat something in Spanish, and it didn’t sound like the information I wanted.

“Time is real short here,” I said, “and soon I’m gonna have to stop asking nice. Look, just cooperate and we can both win today.”

“JJ’s probably dead by now,” he said, leering in the dark. “Yeah, that puta is dead and buried in a shallow ditch—”

Caitlin brushed past me without a word. She grabbed Raymundo by the throat and slammed him up against the wall.

“I’m going to torture you now,” she said and snapped his index finger.

She didn’t ask questions. She just pinned him in place and kept breaking bones, one joint at a time, his finger crackling like a broken wineglass under his shrill screams. Then she stopped.

“You have ten seconds,” she said, “before the pain resumes. This is your window of opportunity to speak. Once the pain resumes, however, it will not stop until another finger is crushed. You will then be allowed another ten seconds’ grace to reconsider before I move on to the third finger. We will continue in this fashion until you have told us where our friend is, or your hand is irreversibly mutilated. Daniel?”

I blinked.

“My phone,” she said with a nod, “is vibrating. Answer that, would you?”

I reached into her pocket and took the phone. I decided to answer it outside. As I crossed the threshold, stepping out into the light, I heard Caitlin say, “Ten.”

Then the screaming started. I cupped my hand over the phone.

“Caitlin’s a little busy right now.”

“Daniel!” Bentley said. “Oh, thank heavens you’re all right. The riot is all over the news—”

“Yeah, don’t worry, there’s no terrorists and no bomb. That whole story’s bogus.”

“The National Guard response, however, is not. Cormie and I are on our way. We, er, ‘acquired’ a local news van. We’re about ten minutes away, and the first Guard trucks are five minutes behind us. I have no idea how they mobilized so quickly. I-80’s already been shut down in both directions, and there’s no way out of Aberdeen without a full-vehicle search.”

Behind me, the screaming devolved into broken sobs.

“We’ll be ready for you,” I said.

“Oh good. Do be prompt, please. We’re trying to get you out of prison, not all land inside one.”

I hung up, went back into the cell, and gave Caitlin her phone back. She stood over Raymundo, arms folded and looking pleased with herself. He huddled in the corner and let out a ragged whimper, his tear-streaked face turned away from the light coming in through the open doorway.

“I got creative while you were out,” Caitlin said. “Fingers just weren’t getting the message across.”

“Please,” Raymundo sobbed, “just keep her away from me. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“That was fast,” I said.

Caitlin shrugged. “I can be very creative.”





40.




“It was all Cesar’s idea,” Raymundo said. “See, this whole alliance between the Calles and JJ? That was Gabriel, our boss. Cesar, he’s second on the totem pole. He figured our cut was way too small, said that bitch should have been working for us, not as an equal partner.”

“Call my friend a bitch,” I told him, “one more time.”

He flinched.

“Few weeks ago, Cesar’s shooting dice with a guy who knows a guy, and they get to talking. I guess these heavy dudes from Chicago have been putting out feelers, trying to move into Vegas, and they were looking for friendly faces.”

“So Cesar figured he’d sell out Jennifer, stab Gabriel in the back, and join forces with the Chicago Outfit,” I said.

“First time we talked in the yard, man, I was tellin’ the truth. All I knew was she’d gone missing. Then Cesar called me and filled me in. He’s got a whole crew of Calles who are sick of Gabriel’s crap. They’re all gonna jump ship and throw in with Chicago.”