Cold Vengeance - Lincoln Child [128]
“He won’t say a word,” Constance replied, her voice low and steady.
“He will when we start chumming the water with bits of your body.”
She stared at him. Esterhazy was surprised at just how little fear he saw in her eyes. This was one scary human being.
Falkoner merely chuckled and turned back to Pendergast. “Your little quest, which we’ve only recently become aware of, has been most instructive. For example, we had thought Helen was dead these long years.”
Esterhazy felt his blood run cold.
“Right, Judson?”
“It’s not true,” Esterhazy said weakly.
Falkoner waved his hand as if it was a trifling matter. “At any rate, here’s your first question: what do you know about our organization, and where did you learn it?”
But Pendergast did not answer. Instead, he turned to Esterhazy, a strangely sympathetic look in his eyes. “You’re next, you realize.”
Falkoner strode over to Constance and grabbed her hands, which were cuffed behind the stanchion. He took his knife and sliced slowly and deliberately into her thumb. She stifled a cry, turning her head sharply to one side.
“Next time, speak to me and answer my question.”
“Don’t speak!” Constance said, hoarsely, not looking back. “Don’t say anything. They’re going to kill us anyway.”
“Not true,” said Falkoner. “If he talks, we’ll drop you off alive on shore. He can’t save his own life, but he can save yours.”
He turned back to Pendergast. “Answer the question.”
The special agent began to talk. He told—briefly—of discovering that his wife’s gun had been loaded with blanks, and realizing that meant she had been murdered in Africa twelve years before. He spoke slowly, clearly, and utterly without inflection.
“And so you went to Africa,” said Falkoner, “and discovered our little conspiracy to get rid of her.”
“Your conspiracy?” Pendergast seemed to consider this.
“Why are you talking?” asked Constance suddenly. “You think he’s going to let me go? Of course not. Cease speaking, Aloysius—we’re both dead anyway.”
His face alight with arousal, Falkoner reached down, grasped her hand, and took the knife, slowly cutting into her thumb again, much more deeply this time. She grimaced and writhed in pain, but did not cry out.
From the corner of his eye, Esterhazy noted that Schultz and Zimmermann had holstered their weapons and were enjoying the show.
“Don’t,” Esterhazy said to Falkoner. “You keep doing that, he’ll stop talking.”
“Damn you, I know what I’m doing. I’ve been at this for years.”
“You don’t know him.”
But Falkoner had stopped. He held up the bloody knife, waved it in front of Pendergast’s face, wiped the blood off on the agent’s lips. “The next time, her thumb comes off.” He smiled crookedly. “Do you love her? I suppose you must. Young, beautiful, spirited: who wouldn’t?” He straightened up, took a slow turn around the deck. “I’m waiting, Pendergast. Go on.”
But Pendergast did not go on. Instead, he was looking at Esterhazy intently.
Falkoner paused in his circuit, cocked his head to one side. “All right. I always keep my promises. Schultz, hold her hand steady.”
Schultz grasped Constance’s hand as Falkoner brandished the knife. Esterhazy could see he was, indeed, going to cut off her thumb. And if he did there would be no going back—not for Pendergast, and not for him.
CHAPTER 76
JUST A MOMENT,” ESTERHAZY SAID.
Falkoner paused. “What?”
Esterhazy quickly stepped over to Falkoner and leaned in to his ear. “There’s something I neglected to tell you,” he murmured. “Something you must know. It’s very important.”
“Damn it, I’m in the middle of this.”
“Step over to the rail. They mustn’t hear. I’m telling you, it’s of the utmost importance.”
“This is a hell of a time to be interrupting my work!” Falkoner muttered, the smile of sadistic pleasure giving way to a scowl of frustration.
Esterhazy led Falkoner over to the port rail and walked him slightly aft. He glanced up: the view from both