De la Rocha shrugged, looked down at the rolling cart with the machine and the surgical instruments, then up at the prisoner.
“What kind of fun have you been having with my friend here, gordo?”
“So far just some shocks. I also took advantage of the lesions on his body from the broken glass.” He held up the pitcher, now empty, and de la Rocha sniffed it. His eyebrows furrowed for a moment, and then he smiled.
“A gringo margarita.”
“Sí, Don Daniel.”
“Muy bien.” Very good. “You have not yet used the donkey prod?”
“Not yet. Would you like to watch?”
Daniel rolled his eyes and looked back to his men. “Would I like to watch?” Back to Gentry. “Only a maricón would like to watch that. I pay him so I don’t have to watch a cattle prod shoved against your huevos and then electrified.”
Court bit his lower lip to stop the quivering.
DLR looked to his torturer. “Anything about the Gamboa woman?”
“No. He spoke to the other norteamericano in English. I did not understand, but he has not said anything of value to me. This one is very strong.”
Daniel regarded Pfleger for just a moment, then looked to Carlos. Carlos spoke English, and he had been in the room during the conversation between the Americans.
“Nothing, jefe.”
DLR turned back to look over the man shackled to the fence. “That is a beautiful scar on your hip there. I see an old bullet wound on your thigh, too.” He stepped forward and looked at it. “A year old at most.” He then turned Court’s head to the left with his fingertips. “A burn on your neck. Much older. Five years?”
No answer.
“These little cuts on your face and arms? The bruising on your chest?” Daniel shrugged. “You are no stranger to pain, I see. You may resist our efforts to pry information from you.
“No matter. We have the sister-in-law. I hear you two slept together last night. Did you enjoy your taste of our culture, amigo? Latin women can be very fiery, very passionate, yes? If you don’t talk, we will start work on her. The techniques at our disposal will remove that passion within minutes. We will turn her into a zombie in an hour.” DLR smiled at Gentry.
Then asked, “Where is Elena Gamboa at this moment?”
Court shrugged as best he could with his arms pulled wide.
“Obviously, we know you were attempting to arrange for her to get into the United States.”
Nothing from the tortured man in front of him.
“She will not leave Mexico.” Then the handsome man in the black suit said, “Why do you care? She is not your family. Do you have family?” No response from Court. DLR continued, “I believe family is the most important thing in the world. Don’t you?”
Gentry took a moment to control himself. Tried his best to sound strong. “I believe your family is going to miss you when you’re dead.”
“Ha, ha. A threat? He finally speaks and he threatens me? Carnicerito?”
“Sí, patrón.”
“It’s cold down here. Turn on the heat.”
“Sí, patrón.” The fat man turned the dial without placing the remnants of the wallet in his victim’s mouth, and Gentry went wild: his body was out of his control, his mind cleared of all thoughts except a frantic desire to escape pain and find relief, his heart pounded in his chest like when he was underwater with the crocodile above him and he could not find his shotgun and the gnashing teeth were coming closer and close—
The Little Butcher eased back the dial.
Gentry’s head dropped forward in exhaustion. Looking down, he saw he was pissing all over the floor. Sweat dripped off his nude body along with his urine and drips of blood. He was thankful he had managed to avoid biting off his tongue.
When he finally pulled his head back up, he saw Laura being shoved into the room from the stairwell, her hands bound in front of her, a single Black Suit pushing her forward from behind. The man handed her off to Spider, then turned around and disappeared back up the stairs.
Even in agony, Court felt the shame and humiliation as his bladder emptied in front of her.
She was dressed in simple blue cotton warm-up pants and a white tank top. Her right eye was black and red. Her lip fat. Even in the dim light where she stood, Court could see her fists were scuffed and bloody.
She’d been fighting back.
Good girl.
Daniel leaned close. “You almost pissed on my suit. That would have made me very angry.”
De la Rocha turned to the man holding Laura by the shoulders. “Spider, bring her into the light, put her on her knees in front of her gringo. We will see how deep is their love.”