Page 42 of Passion's Wicked Torment

“All right, doc. Lay off the juice for a minute. You got to answer some questions for me.” Ironman took the glass right out of his hand and slammed it down on the other side of the counter.

Dr. Randolph Cheer squinted through drunken, bloodshot eyes at Ironman. He sighed wearily and spoke in a slurred voice. “My dear sir, I assure you, I answer questions best when I have a glass of medicinal inebriant within consumable range.”

“Yeah, yeah. But you talk now. Yon can drink later.” Dr. Cheer was a graying, middle-aged man with a paunch. He was wearing a black suit, and a black necktie around a shirt collar that was unbuttoned. He looked rumpled and falling down drunk. This would not stop him from being able to answer questions though. He had looked rumpled and falling down drunk for weeks now, ever since he had been called in to attend to Chad Fleming.

Ironman tapped his cigar ash absently into the doctor’s glass of whiskey. “What I want to know is, when’s the boy going to get his memory back? He’s holding up the works. I want to send my men to attack the Kristy, that ship you see off the port bow, but I can’t do it while we got this reporter on board. If I do, they’ll strike back, and then the Coast Guard will come into it under the obstruction to navigation sea laws. They’re just waiting for a chance to ignore the three-mile limit and board my ship.”

Dr. Cheer weaved about slightly on his barstool. “I assure you, I sympathize completely with your most unfortunate predicament.”

“Can it, doc. What I want to know is, when’s the boy going to get his memory back so’s I can question him? So’s I can find out what I need to know and then ditch him over the side?”

“Mr. Gianelli, please,” protested Dr. Cheer, holding up an unsteady finger. “I told you, I want no knowledge of any illegal or illicit endeavor. So kindly refrain from elucidating your reasons as to why you want the patient—”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ironman interrupted.

Dr. Cheer shrugged resignedly, not wanting to pursue the subject. He glanced hungrily at the drink near Ironman’s hand. “To answer your question, his memory should return soon. All available evidence indicates that the physical trauma that induced the amnesiac state is not of a permanent nature. Therefore—”

Riggio cut in, trying to be helpful. “But what the boss wants to know, doc, you see, is when’s he going to get his memory back? So he can tell us who the spy is, and we can deep-six him.”

“Soon. Regretfully, I cannot be more specific. The science is still young.”

“You told me that weeks ago!” raged Ironman. “That’s the only reason I kept him alive this long, because you told me he’d get his memory back!”

“Soon, that’s all I can tell you. Now, if I may be permitted to refuel?” He reached for the drink.

Ironman looked at the doctor, then slid the drink over to him. He watched him drink it down greedily, cigar ashes and all. Ironman stalked out of the rec room with Riggio behind him and went to the cabin where Chad Fleming was being held. He put his hand on the handle, took the key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock. Then he and Riggio went into the room.

CHAPTER 23

Chad Fleming stood near the open porthole, casually looking out, smoking a cigarette. His blond hair was disheveled, and he had a scruffy growth of beard. His face was very gaunt and was scarred at his temple, where the vase had smashed him. His eyes had a vacant look. He wore a long-sleeved khaki shirt and khaki trousers, the shirt unbuttoned and open. When Ironman and Riggio came in, Chad turned away from his porthole to look at them.

Ironman spoke to Riggio first, not Chad. “You sure it’s all right, leaving the porthole open like that?”

“We’re so near the waterline, boss, that even if he did shout, no one on the top deck would hear, especially what with all the noise and music up there.”

Chad grinned casually. From the grin, it was clear that he was only a shadow of his former self. “Shout? Why would I shout, Raggio.”

“Riggio. I told you a thousand times. Riggio.”

Chad shrugged, dragging off his cigarette. “I forgot.” Ironman went up to him and stood very close, scrutinizing him. Yeah, he thought. He believed the doc. The man was not faking it, as Ironman had at first believed. No, he really had lost his memory or his mind or both. There had been fire in those eyes when they’d first brought him down. Now there was nothing but a cloudiness. In a way it was a shame. Even though Fleming was his enemy and had caused him no end of problems, Ironman still felt it was a shame. He admired fire and spunk and a defiant spirit. Chad Fleming had had all of these. But he didn’t anymore.

“Fleming, I don’t suppose you remember yet the name of that federal agent you discovered during your investigation?”

“What investigation?”

“That’s what I thought.”

Chad lethargically dragged off his cigarette, then blew out the smoke. “When are you going to let me out of here, Michael?”

Ironman winced. He hated being called that. After Chad’s amnesia, Ironman had been reintroduced to him as Ironman Mike Gianelli, and only the Mike had stuck in his mind. Ironman had at first corrected him every time he called him Michael, but finally he had given up. The man simply could not remember anything from one moment to the next. Sometimes they’d put food on the table in front of him, and he’d forget how to eat it. He still could not use a fork and knife. He ate with his fingers. Yeah, thought Ironman, seeing the empty hulk of a former fighter. It was a shame.

“Fleming, I’ll let you out of here soon. Just as soon as you get your memory back. I’m keeping you here for your own good. You remember I told you that?”

Chad looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head no.

Riggio reminded him. “Yeah, you see the boss is keeping you here because he’s your friend, see. And that’s why he brought in that head doctor to look at you too. To try to make you well so you can remember things.”

It was part of Dr. Cheer’s advice that Ironman make Chad believe he was his friend so that when his memory did come back, which it might do only partially, he would want to answer his friend’s questions. Chad might remember some things, Dr. Cheer had said, and not others. He might remember the spy’s name, but not remember that it was Ironman who had ordered him savagely beaten and who had smashed the vase down on him that sent him into the coma in the first place.

Chad put his fingers to the bridge of his nose and squeezed, at the same time closing his eyes. “Michael, I understand that you’re trying to help me. But I’m still getting tired of being down here.”

“Well, why don’t you remember that name then, damn you!” Ironman had slipped and let his temper show. Chad stared at him curiously, but said nothing. Ironman bulled on ahead. “I’m giving you till the thirtieth of the month. It’s the tenth today. If you don’t remember by then, I’ve had it with you, ace. You don’t remember by the thirtieth, that’s it, no matter what.”

He stalked out of the room, leaving Chad staring perplexedly after him. Riggio followed him out, glancing over his shoulder at Chad. The door was closed and locked.

“Boss,” Riggio began, “what are you planning on doing on the thirtieth? I thought we needed that name from him, because the spy can do so much damage, can really ruin us if we don’t find out who he is?”

“Yeah, we need to know who he is,” Ironman fumed. “But I can’t wait forever. If he don’t remember by the thirtieth, he gets no more chances.”

“We deep-six him?”

“We do better than that.” Ironman smiled an evil smile that made Riggio cringe, even though he had seen his boss smile this way many times before. “I got me an idea on how we’re going to use him to get back at Kristin. Kill two birds with one stone.” He laughed at his own joke. It was a cruel sound to hear. “That’s it, Riggio. We kill two birds with one stone. And if I do say so myself, this is the most underhanded idea I’ve ever come up with.”

“Well, what is it?”

Ironman slapped h

im on the back. “Wait till the thirtieth. If he don’t come through by then, we get rid of him, and we get rid of Kristin in about the most foul way anybody’s ever dreamed of.”

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