Chapter 3 #5
“You mean to tell me that I’m your ambassador to the normal world?” My voice cracked in dismay. “That is a sad state of affairs, Mr. Halliwell. I hate to break it to you, but I am all different kinds of weird.”
He gave me his lip-curling smirk. “Perhaps so, but at least you’re original.”
I just sat there, nerves buzzing with alarm. His approval scared me even more than his anger did.
“By the way, Cassandra,” he said, his voice casual. “It has come to my attention that you are showing a keen interest in our visitor on Level Eight.”
I was so startled, my mind just fixated on the euphemism he’d chosen. Visitor? In a cage and a shock collar? That was some sneaky-ass doublespeak if I ever heard any. I stammered a little. “Ah… how did you, ah…”
“Haley informed me that you were enchanted by that naked shower video she compiled. Not that anyone blames you for that. Almost all of my daughters and more than a few of my sons were much struck by his impressive physique. But after, I was told, you dug for more information. Accessed more video. Studied it at great length.”
I let out a breath. So Invisibility Cloak was not yet discovered. He hadn’t copped to the passkey theft. They’d only seen me perving on the Masters shower vid, mooning at the guy through hacked cameras. The damage was limited. “Yes. I… I did.”
“What’s the nature of your interest? Beyond the obvious, of course.”
“I wouldn’t call it interest,” I said. “‘Curiosity’ would be a better word. He’s like, I don’t know. A tragic romantic character. Like the Count of Monte Cristo.”
“As you well know, he’s the key to that algorithm that I need,” he said. “I expect you know his story?”
I was on very shaky ground here. Tiptoeing. “Ah… ah, I did do some—”
“Of course you did. Forget you ever knew it. I am sure that Shane Masters strikes you as a dashing figure. But his presence here must remain secret. He was never here. Understand?”
“Ah, yes,” I said swiftly. “Of course.”
“He’s the key to the algorithm, but I just can’t get it out of him,” Halliwell complained. “He did have some legitimate brain damage some months ago, but I strongly suspect that he’s just pretending at this point. I’m tempted to cut bait.”
I digested that as he slowed to a halt at the big gate, which ground slowly open for him. “What exactly do you mean by that?”
“You’re a bright girl,” he said, his voice impatient. “Extrapolate.”
“I prefer to communicate plainly,” I said.
“I don’t give a shit about your preferences.
But I’d like to attempt one more technique before I’m done with our visitor.
A classic, old-fashioned game of good cop, bad cop.
I’ve been the bad cop for months, so he is primed for the good cop.
And I have a feeling that you could be very, very good, Cassandra. ”
I was horrified by the implications of his teasing tone. “Wait. Hold on. By ‘cut bait,’ do you mean… kill him?”
“Don’t be tedious,” he snapped. “I need that algorithm. You will be my last-ditch effort to persuade him to be reasonable. Failing that, we move on to harsher modalities. He certainly can’t walk out of here free, after what’s happened to him.
Nicole and Vincent made that impossible. Regrettable, but there it is.”
“So I’m his last hurrah before you cut him to pieces?” My voice shook in horror. “Jesus, what am I supposed to do? Tap dance for him, for fuck’s sake?”
“Language,” he chided. “Talk to him, since you find him so intriguing. Chat with him, flirt with him, charm him. I’ll watch, in the monitor.”
He pulled into the enormous garage and parked near the northeast stairwell. The stairs that led down, down, down… to Level Eight.
Dear God, he wanted to do this right now? I was not ready. I had no plan.
“What’s the point?” I tried to mask my desperation. “What am I supposed to ask him? What do you want me to fish for? For God’s sake, give me some parameters!”
He unlocked the car with a finger-flick, and walked briskly around, opening my door.
“Don’t ask me. Improvise. Pull the thorn from his paw.
Gain his trust. He’s bored, lonely, vulnerable, sex-starved.
Use your imagination. I know you have one.
Tell me it’s useful for something other than sexual fantasies. ”
“I don’t want to mind-fuck him any more than I want to boink Andrew Hwang!”
He let out a theatrical sigh. “Fine. Never mind. I’ll just call the interrogation specialists right now. We’ll let them get to work, and by tomorrow, it will all be over. And I, for one, will be happy to put the whole thing behind me. It’s become tedious.”
Interrogation specialists? Oh holy fuck, no. My mind raced. “Wait,” I said.
His lip-curl widened to a self-satisfied smile. “Yes?”
“I’ll, ah… I’ll talk to him. I don’t know what point there is, but I’ll do it. Just give me the time to run up to my apartment and change out of this—”
“No. Go just as you are. You look very nice.”
“But I… but …”
“You don’t have the luxury of arguing with me.” His voice snapped like a whip. “If I told you to get down on your knees and fellate him, you would do it. You have no rights here. Not if you want Regina’s treatments to continue. Is that absolutely clear?”
I stared at him, appalled. I knew exactly what he was. My mother had told me about him all my life. And even so, this was like a splash of ice-water to the face.
“Oh, stop it,” he cajoled. “Don’t be all shocked. It hasn’t come to that yet. Let’s see what results you get by simple flirting, hmm? We’ll leave fellatio for a last resort.”
Oh God. He thought he was funny? I couldn’t even unlock my joints.
He took my arm and frog-marched me down the stairs. My ankles wobbled on those ridiculous heels, but Halliwell kept up a brisk clip, steadying me when I stumbled.
At the door to Level Eight, he inserted his passcard. It buzzed green, and he pushed the door open. “Go on in alone. Seeing me with you would inhibit him.”
“I don’t know what to say to him!”
“Don’t ask me to micro-manage, or we’ll never know what you’re capable of.”
You don’t even want to know what I’m capable of, you scheming prick.
No. Think of Reggie. Swallow it down. Like a big, sharp-edged rock.
I picked my way down the corridor. My ankles were rubbery.
I was intensely aware of Halliwell, watching.
I wasn’t doing Shane Masters any favors.
This was just a tiny stay of execution. Talking to me was the last thing he would experience before they tortured and murdered him. The responsibility was crushing.
I paced past the seven empty cells. My heels ticked on the tiles. 803… 804… 805… 806… 807… and I gasped to see Shane Masters, standing right in front of the glass wall.
Waiting for me.