When Bunting finished Harkes said, “Why did you meet with Sean King?”
“Are you keeping my calendar now?”
Harkes didn’t answer him. He was texting something on his BlackBerry. He looked up when he was finished. “There are certain people, all of whom would be familiar to you, that are not happy about your recent performance.”
“I was already aware of that,” Bunting shot back. “If that’s all you wanted to tell me, I’d like to go now.”
Harkes rose, went to the wall, and flicked a switch. The wall suddenly became transparent. As Bunting looked closer he saw that it was a one-way mirror. Seated in the brightly lit room was Avery. Bunting could see that he was strapped to a gurney. There was one intravenous cannula going to each of his arms. The young man was convulsed with fear. His head was turned and he seemed to be staring directly at Bunting, but it was apparent he couldn’t see him. With the special glass and the bright lights he would only be able to see his own terrified countenance reflected back. A heart monitor on a stand was next to the gurney with a line running to Avery’s neck.
Bunting shouted, “What the hell is going on?”
“Avery screwed up. King tracked you through him. And you were aware of it but didn’t bother to tell me.”
“I don’t answer to you.”
Harkes moved with astonishing speed. The blow hit Bunting right above the left eye. Harkes’s hand felt like a block of cement. The blood pouring from a gash on his forehead, Bunting fell forward in his chair, feeling sick to his stomach from the violence of the strike.
He struggled to catch his breath. “Look, you bastard, Foster and Quantrell aren’t the only game in town—”
Harkes hammered a fist into Bunting’s right kidney, doubling him over and dropping him to the floor. This time he did throw up. An instant after the vomit left his mouth he was yanked up and thrown back in the chair with such force that he nearly toppled over backward. When his breath returned Bunting said, “What the hell do you want from me?”
Harkes handed him a remote control device. “Hit the red button.”
Bunting looked down at the instrument in his right hand. “Why?”
“Because I said to.”
“What will happen if I do?”
Harkes looked through the mirror at Avery. “You’re a smart man. What do you think will happen?”
“What is that stuff hooked up to Avery?”
“Two IV lines and a heart monitor.”
“Why?”
“When you push the red button you will put a series of steps in motion. Saline solution will begin flowing through both lines.”
“Saline?”
“To ensure the lines aren’t blocked so the chemicals that will be flowing through them next will not become mixed and possibly occlude the needles. If that happens the drugs don’t reach the body.”
“What drugs? Some sort of truth serum?”
An amused look eased across Harkes normally serious features. “The first one through is sodium thiopental. That’ll knock a lightweight like Avery out in three seconds. The next drug is pancuronium; it causes paralysis of the skeletal and respiratory muscles. The final drug through is potassium chloride.”
Bunting paled. “Potassium chloride? But that stops the heart. That’ll kill him.”
“That’s sort of the point. What do you think we’ve been talking about here, Bunting? A slap on the wrist?”
“I’m not pushing the button.”
“I would reconsider if I were you.”
“I’m not going to kill Avery.”
Harkes eased a .44 Magnum pistol from his shoulder holster and rested the muzzle against Bunting’s forehead. “I can hardly describe what the load chambered in this gun will do to your brain.”