“Maybe you get a taste of this once Alcista is done.” He cupped his genitals in a rough gesture. “He’s a man known to share.”
Her stomach must have really improved, she thought distantly. She didn’t throw up at his threat. She sat up straighter. “I would like to speak to this Alcista when he arrives.”
“Oh, you’ll get your chance, gringa,” he said with a rough laugh. “But I don’t know how much talking you’ll be doing.”
He left her then, and she sank back against the wall, shivering in the stuffy air. If only there was a door and they’d locked her in, she could do something about the barred window, maybe find a weak spot to work the boards loose. She’d use her fingernails, her teeth, anything. Right now the situation was hopeless.
What had they told her about rape? Were you supposed to fight back, or lie still? Did trying to empty your bladder or throwing up on the rapist drive them away or infuriate them to the point that they hurt you even more? Would he want her to scream and cry in order to get excited, or would noise bother him?
It probably didn’t matter. She hadn’t heard much of Alcista, but his reputation for violence and rape was legendary. There was probably no way she could stop him.
But she could endure. She could crawl inside herself and simply endure what they did to her, and when it was safe she would emerge.
It might never be safe. There was a good chance she might die this afternoon. In which case she’d be safe inside that little world she created, and this time when the lights went out for good she wouldn’t even mind.
“Do you need anything, Mr. Barringer?” Alice, the girl who had been his personal assistant for the last seventeen years, poked her head in the office.
“No, dear,” he said. She was a homely girl, close to sixty if she was a day, and loyal to a fault. He only hoped her new boss would be as appreciative as he was. “I’m just waiting for a last minute phone call. You go on home.”
Alice nodded, closing the door, leaving Barringer alone. He didn’t like to receive business calls at home, and he was waiting to hear from Sully. Once he had MacGowan, things would start to fall into place. He didn’t worry about how the missing Isobel Lambert would hear. He had no doubt she’d know sooner than the people in London. She’d been that good, and even in exile she’d stay connected.
He looked at his watch. What was keeping Sully? He should have dealt with this by now. He had better things to do than stay around the deserted office waiting for a phone call.
He didn’t even bother to consider what he might do if Sully failed him. In more than twenty years in the business Sully’s success rate was almost as high as Killian’s. He didn’t make mistakes.
Odd, Barringer thought. He prided himself on his patience, and yet suddenly he could feel it beginning to fray. He glanced at the telephone, willing it to ring.
Where in the name of all that was holy was Sully?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The waiting was the hardest part, Beth thought miserably. If she was going to be raped and murdered she just wished they’d get it over with. The notorious Alcista was in another part of the country, and it was taking him time to get there, apparently. No one bothered her again, though every now a then a different silhouette would appear at the broken door and peer in at her, but she simply stayed where she was, her back ramrod straight against the wall, waiting.
To her amazement she even drifted to sleep for a bit. It was his arrival that woke her, the excited shouts of the men, the general backslapping and obsequious behavior befitting the rock star of terrorists. Most people didn’t even know what he looked like, she realized, but word had it that he wasn’t bad-looking. Maybe she wouldn’t mind it so much.
Yeah, as if violent rape by George Clooney would be any better than violent rape by someone ugly. Rape was rape.
Apparently a great number of toasts had to be drunk before Alcista would decide how to deal with her. She knew he came to the door to look in on her – she could see the swagger in his stride, the vanity in every ounce of his body. He turned away and made a filthy joke at her expense, one she only half-understood in his guttural, idiomatic Spanish, a joke the rest of the men found hysterically funny.
She concentrated on her breathing. She’d been through pain before, she could tolerate that. And no one could shame her without her permission. She would survive if she could, die if she had to.
The noisy conversation began to make a little more sense as she got used to the timbre of Alcista’s voice. He was not pleased with the men, that was one thing.
“You have fucked this up, hermanos,” he said. “I had to finish the American boy and get Matteo to dump the body in the harbor. But what about the Englishman? Where is he? You just let him walk away?”
A babble of excuses, which Alcista cut short. Beth closed her eyes, willing her breathing to stay slow and steady. She couldn’t think about Dylan right now, or she’d start screaming. She could only breathe. Survive.
“Enough!” the man spat. “I have had word he’s headed north, to the capitol, hoping to get a plane out of here. I want three of you to go after him. Don’t come back without him.” There was a short burst of protest, one that halted quickly.
“And the rest of you,” he continued. “We’ve lost three sources of income. Why are you sitting around drinking cerveza when you should be looking for new guests of La Luz?”
“We’ve been awaiting your orders, Alcista,” one man was brave enough to say. “And you promised we could watch you deal with la gringa.”
Alcista made a sound of disgust. “You think you deserve a reward? Get out of here, all of you. I’ll take care of her on my own.”
There was a noisy scramble, the slamming of the door a number of times, and Beth held her breath, wondering if she had been left alone with the monster.
Apparently not. “Why are you still here?” he demanded.