Full Black - Brad Thor [155]
The financier didn’t reply.
“You can shout if you want to, but nobody is going to hear you.”
Standing looked as if he was thinking about doing just that, but quickly decided not to. “What do you want? Are you here to arrest me?”
Harvath pulled a vial of pills from his pocket and tossed it to him. “Eat.”
“Eat? What the hell are these?”
“Laxatives.”
“Why the hell would I want to take a bottle full of laxatives?”
“Because you’re about to go on a very long trip with no bathroom breaks,” said Harvath.
“What are you doing? Kidnapping me? Did that idiot Ashford put you up to this?”
“I’m doing you a favor. Start chewing.”
Standing opened the bottle and dumped several of the pills into his hand. He looked down and then threw the entire handful at Harvath. “Fuck you.”
Harvath smiled and tucked his pistol away at the small of his back. Reaching above the toilet, he took down one of Standing’s monogrammed bath towels and started walking forward.
Instinctively, the billionaire began backing away from him. The moment he did, Harvath sprung.
Twisting the towel tightly around Standing’s head, he used it to pull him off-balance. As the older man fell, Harvath steered him toward the tub, where he landed with a splash.
As soon as he hit the water, Harvath had him under it, careful to do everything with even pressure across the towel so as not to leave any marks.
Standing was strong for his age and struggled wildly. After a few more seconds, Harvath let him up. As his head broke the surface, he sucked in huge gasps of air.
“Let me make this very clear,” said Harvath. “You’re going to take those pills. Understand me?”
Standing didn’t respond, but he was visibly shaken by the explosion of violence that had just occurred. The tub was almost full and Harvath turned off the water.
In his fall, the billionaire had spilled the rest of the pills. Harvath scooped up a handful, gave them to him, and repeated his order. “Eat.”
This time, Standing did as he was told. As the man sat soaking in his pajamas, Harvath removed an opened bottle of wine from his pack and pulled out the cork. After filling the glass, he walked over to the tub and handed it to Standing. “Drink,” he said. “Red wine speeds up the process.”
He hesitantly accepted the glass as if he was suddenly beginning to grasp that maybe he was being lied to.
“Drink,” Harvath repeated. “All of it.”
As the man tilted it back, rivulets of wine ran down his chin and dripped into the water.
When the billionaire had drained the glass, Harvath refilled it. The man didn’t need to have the order repeated. He knew he was supposed to drink.
He had consumed about half of the second glass when Harvath told him to stop. He could see the man’s eyes were starting to have trouble focusing. He needed to say what he was going to say now, before the man could no longer grasp what was happening.
Harvath sat down on the edge of the tub and leaned in so James Standing could hear everything he was about to say.
“Listen to me very closely, you son of a bitch. Those weren’t laxatives. Right now, your heart is rapidly slowing down, unable to pump blood through your body. In about a minute, you’re going to find your lungs suddenly can’t seem to get enough air and you’re going to gasp for breaths that just won’t come.
“Before you die, I want you to know that everything you have spent your entire life working for has been completely undone. Every organization, every company, every foundation you have ever created, all of it. You’re going to be known the world over for the monster you are. Your name will forever be synonymous with evil.”
Standing tried to speak, to say something in response, but he couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come.
“Every family who lost someone in the attacks you financed will sue your estate and they will drain it of every last single penny. People who once held you in high esteem will mock your memory or recoil in horror at the mention of your name.
“All the money in the world can’t prevent what’s about to happen to you. On behalf of every one of your victims, I hope you rot