Page 74 of Girl in the Water
Ian
“Where are the diamonds?” Marcos Morais asked.
“At the diamond mine?” Ian guessed.
The man pistol-whipped him, knocking his head to the side.
Ian stood against the whitewashed cement-block wall, his hands tied to steel pipes on each side of him.
Marcos and he had spent the previous evening in a conversation exactly like this. Then Marcos had left for the night, leaving Ian alone in the small utility room to the rats and his worries about Daniela. He’d spent a couple of hours trying to undo the ropes, but Marcos must have been some Boy Scout extraordinaire. The ropes held.
And first thing in the morning, Marcos was back, fresh and ready for round two.
Ian braced himself against the wall behind him, as if nothing but the wall was holding him up. His nose was bleeding. Stars danced in his vision. He didn’t have to pretend hard that he was in bad shape, about to fold.
Marcos finally stepped closer. Ian was careful not to grin. The idiot was now close enough for a head butt or for having his legs swept from under him. Once Marcos was on the ground, Ian could crush his scrawny neck under his boots, finagle Marcos’s knife away from him, and then Ian would be out of there.
He decided to wait a little longer. He was still hoping Goat Man would show up. Marcos wasn’t Goat Man. He didn’t have a scar on his nose. Ian wanted both bastards. He hoped to hang in there as long as he could, just in case.
He figured Marcos might call in reinforcements for the final beat down.Come on, Goat Man.
But instead of Marcos calling anyone, he drove his fist into Ian’s stomach. “You tell me where the diamonds are, or I’m going to take you apart into small little pieces. Have you ever seen the machines that grind up the sugarcanes?”
Ian hadn’t, but he could easily imagine. He tried to suck in air. At least yesterday’s lunch was long gone, so he wouldn’t vomit again.
“Who killed Finch?” he asked, more breathless than he liked, but at least he could still talk.
“Fucking idiots.” Marcos drove his fist into Ian’s stomach again.
He doubled over. Coughed. Several seconds passed before he could straighten. “Tough having partners…who don’t know…not to kill a man…before he gives up the information.”
Marcos punched him in the ribs next. “Don’t worry. That’s not going to happen here. First you talk, then you die. I’m clear on the order.”
Ian spit blood. “It’s a pleasure…doing business with a professional.”
To hell with waiting for Goat Man.
Ianprepared to lurch forward, but the door opened, and a man in his early twenties hurried in, dressed in a security uniform.
The guy didn’t look at Ian but kept his gaze studiously on Marcos Morais. “Senhor.”
Marcos snarled at the interruption but went out to talk to him. After a moment, the lock clicked.
Which meant Marcos had been called away for a time.
Ian tried to blink away his double vision. His head swam.
Time to blow this popsicle stand. He just needed a minute to recover. He slid to the ground into a sitting position, his back to the wall, his arms stretched to the side, suspended by the ropes.
He tried to catch his breath as he scowled at the door—solid steel, and not a damn thing in here to pick the lock with. He glanced at the small window. That had potential.
Except, the window darkened even as he watched. Someone moved past.
A guard?
Okay, one guard he could handle.
As pain pounded through him, Ian focused on his ropes again but didn’t get more than three seconds. Then the glass was kicked in, and the second after that, Daniela’s head appeared in the gap.
