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“You’d best hand that over to me now, miss.”
The limo drives out toward the bayou, then through a high set of gates. After a couple of minutes drive, a large house emerges from the trees and undergrowth. The car turns and rolls down a ramp at the side, taking me under the house into an underground garage.
The driver leaves his coat and hat in the car, steps out and walks back to open my door. “This way, miss.”
“Are you going to tie me up?”
“No,” he laughs. It’s not a pleasant laugh. “I’m not going to search you, either. I’ll work with the assumption that you’re not a one-woman army, and that you’ll do as you’re told sooner than get yourself hurt.”
I take a deep breath. I’m not as scared as I would expect. Not until we get in the room. A number of men stand in shadow around the walls of the big, dimly lit basement room.
At the far end of the room, a man in a tux lounges in an executive chair behind a wide black desk. He holds an unlit cigar.
In the perfect red ballgown and shoes, with my perfect hair and perfect makeup, I’m the only person in the room who’s in color. It makes me feel almost unreal.
I look at the man behind the desk. Obviously the boss. “Didn’t I see you at the ball?” Oh, you think you’re so clever, Indi. Tell the crime boss that you recognize him and you can place his whereabouts tonight.
He looks at me for a moment. “I recognize you, too, Ms. Corrigan.” Then he turns his hand palm up. Beckons me with his fingers. “Come closer. So we can talk.” Reluctant, but with all the defiance I can muster, I move nearer to the desk. He beckons again.
I tell him, “I think I’m okay here, thanks.”
He smiles and tips his head. Then he looks me up and down for a moment. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to dance, Ms. Corrigan. India, isn’t it?” He waits.
I lift my chin a fraction. “Indi. Only close friends use my full name.”
“Is that right?” He shrugs. “Indi, then. I need to know what was in the document that you took to Mr. MacAlpine, Indi.”
“I can’t tell you that.“
“Well, at least you’re not silly enough to tell me that you don’t know.”
“No. But I signed an agreement that I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
The big men in the shadows all laugh.
“How would you like me to get it out of her, Boss?”one of the goons grunts. “Shall I burn it out, split it out, or will we have a go at fucking it out? What’s your pleasure, Boss?”
The boss holds up a hand. “If that’s how you get your jollies, Molloy,take her away and do it somewhere else. Though I’d have to say, I’d think a lot less of you for it.”
Molloy mumbles, “Don’t you want to know what she knows, Boss?”
“Of course I do,”the boss snarls. “But she’s not going to tell us.”
“I can persuade her, Boss.”
It’s hard to shudder and not show it. I’m relieved the driver didn’t search me, but at the same time I’m terrified the boss won’t be quite so dumb.
“You can’t. Women don’t crack under torture. The CIA, the Marines, everybody tried and found the same thing.”
“But…” Molloy protests.
“Sometimes you can buy what they know, but I don’t think we’ll get anywhere with Indi.” He looks back into my face. Studies me for a moment. “Wait while I try.” He says, “A hundred thousand dollars, Indi. How does that sound? You tell me what you know, and I’ll give you a neat stack of one thousand clean, crisp Benjamins.”
“Show me the money.”
He chuckles. “You’re just stalling.”
“If only there were a way to find out.”
