Stone Barrington 06-11

milked you dry, and then you’ll disappear even from Cuba. Now, if you give me the information Lance wants, then maybe I can ameliorate those circumstances a bit, do some kind of a deal.”
    “What, no jail time?” Billy Bob asked, contempt in his voice.
    “That’s not impossible,” Stone said, “but let’s start with no torture, no death, and work from there, a bit of information at a time. If you’ll tell Lance everything—and I mean everything he wants to know, then I’ll see that you walk out of here by morning. Then you can take your stolen money and disappear, and Lance won’t care. Only the police and the feds will be looking for you, and you don’t seem to have had too much trouble evading them, up to this point.”
    “Oh, stop it,” Billy Bob said. “I’m going to get whatever I’m going to get, and there’s not a fucking thing you can do about it.”
    “So, you absolutely refuse to tell me anything?”

    “Only to stick your slick personality and your legal skills up your ass.”
    “I’m really sorry to hear that, Billy Bob, and I wish they hadn’t chosen to do this in my garage. Have you ever tried getting bloodstains out of a concrete floor?” Stone walked slowly to the door and opened it. “Lance?”
    Lance came back into the room with his two henchmen.
    “I’m afraid you’re going to have to persuade him to talk to you,” Stone said.
    Lance turned to the two men. “Strip him, and cut the cane seat out of that chair so his genitals will be exposed. I’m going to get some tools; I’ll be right back.” He motioned for Stone to follow him, then closed the door behind him and started up the stairs.
    “Let’s see what being naked does to his self-confidence,” Lance said, as they emerged into the first floor of the house. He went to the bar in Stone’s study and poured them both a Knob Creek.
    “You’re not really going to torture the guy, are you?”
    “No? Stick around.”
    “I don’t want any part of this,” Stone said.
    Lance sipped his drink. “You’re too squeamish, Stone,” he said. “You wouldn’t mind what we did to him, if you didn’t know him, if he wasn’t in your house, would you?”
    “I would, wherever you had him,” Stone replied. “I believe in the rule of law, even for Billy Bob. I’d be content to see him in prison for the rest of his life, and God knows, there’s enough evidence to put him there—two murders, that we know about, just for a start.”
    “Oh, I’m not going to torture him, Stone, but a few minutes with that thought in Billy Bob’s mind might do wonders to loosen his tongue.”
    There was a rattling noise from downstairs.
    “What’s that?” Lance asked.
    “That is the sound of my garage door opening.”

    Lance set down his drink and started for the stairs. “What are those two fools doing? We don’t want people passing by looking into your garage, do we?”
    As Stone followed him down the stairs, the rattling noise came again. “They’re closing the garage door,” he said.
    Lance strode across the basement and flung open the inside door to the garage, which was in total darkness. “Where’s the fucking light switch?” he demanded, groping along the wall.
    Stone found the switch, and the garage was, once again, flooded with flourescent light. One of Lance’s two men lay on his back, his throat gaping and blood pooling around him; the other sat on the floor, leaning against Stone’s car, clutching his chest and coughing blood down the front of his shirt. One of them couldn’t be helped, and Stone didn’t know what to do for the other.
    Lance calmly flipped open his cell phone and pressed a single button. “This is a Mayday,” he said, slowly and clearly. I need paramedics and a cleaning crew now, at the Barrington residence, garage entrance.”
    The man leaning against Stone’s car coughed once more and keeled over sideways, coming to rest with his head on the concrete floor and his eyes open.
    “Hang on,” Lance said. “Scrub the paramedics; just send the cleaning crew.”

36
    STONE SAT in his study with Lance. They were on their second Knob Creek.
    “Don’t worry,” Lance said. “These fellows are very good; when they’re through, not even luminol will pick up the bloodstains.”
    “That’s a great comfort,” Stone replied. He stared at Lance, who seemed perfectly calm, even a little bored. “I don’t understand you,” he said. “Two of your men are dead, and you’re just sitting