53
It’s just the two of us, Jack,” Barnes said to
Rafael. “You and me.” He sat down, facing him. “I’m sure we’re
going to have a very productive conversation.” The place was
shadowy, like a scene in a movie. Two chairs; a versation.” The
place was shadowy, like a scene in a movie. Two chairs; a square,
dark wooden table, old and worn; and a hanging ceiling lamp casting
light over the two seated men.
“Where are we?” Rafael asked.
“Jack, Jack, Jack, it seems you haven’t quite
understood your place.” Barnes didn’t let up on his sarcasm when he
got up from the table and walked around. “I’m the one asking the
questions here.”
“Go to hell, Barnes. I’m no fucking idiot. Don’t
give me your usual treatment. I’m not going to pee my pants just
because you’re here. You don’t scare me.”
The answer was a punch in the face that sent him
crashing to the floor.
“Get up,” the fat man ordered. “Get up,” he yelled
again, seeing that he wasn’t being obeyed.
Rafael got up at his own pace, not saying a word or
showing the slightest sign of pain. Then he straightened the chair
and sat down, putting his hands in full view on the table.
“Don’t think you can fool me, Barnes. I know we’re
in the United States. I just want to know where exactly,” Rafael
continued, calmly. In spite of his difficult situation, he was
attempting, as much as possible, to control the chain of events.
Nonetheless, he knew he was at a clear disadvantage.
“What makes you think you’re in America? You could
be anywhere.”
“That many hours on the plane tell me we’re in the
United States. London was only two and a half hours away. So we’re
either in Washington or New York, right?”
“We’re smack in the middle of hell, Jack. What
difference does it make? Or were you planning to go
sightseeing?”
“Not a bad idea.”
Another punch, not so hard this time, hit him
squarely in the face, splitting his lip.
“Do you have any idea of what she’s going through
right now, Jack? Can you picture it?” Barnes changed tactics. “Such
a pretty, sweet face, spoiled by a brute like me.”
Rafael, of course, could imagine it. The two
punches he had received were nothing, compared to what could be on
the way.
“Are you going to tell me where the papers are?”
Barnes asked in a more condescending tone.
“You know very well I’m not. First, because I don’t
know. And, second, because if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
Staughton’s sudden appearance interrupted the
interrogation.
“Mr. Barnes,” he called from the doorway.
“Come in, Staughton.”
He approached, and whispered something in his
ear.
“Are you sure?” Barnes asked in his usual loud
voice, not liking the news. He thought silently for a moment.
“Right, give me a few minutes,” he said finally,
dismissing Staughton. On his way out, the agent closed the door,
once again leaving Rafael at Barnes’s mercy.
“I’ll give you one more chance, Jack, for old
times’ sake.” Barnes returned to the chair facing him. “Where are
the papers?”
“The last time I saw them,” Rafael said,
thoughtfully, “they were stuck in your mother’s ass.”
Barnes froze, his face turning red. Rafael was
crossing the line. Barnes got up again and headed for the detainee.
Standing close, he whispered in his ear.
“Why are you wasting my time, Jack?” As he spoke,
his saliva spattered Jack’s face. “Don’t you get it, that I’ve got
the woman and don’t need you? Maybe you won’t talk, but she’ll
cackle like a parrot. So can you please explain to me, what could
it possibly be that keeps me from killing you?”
“What I know, that she doesn’t know,” Rafael
declared firmly.
“And what do you know that she doesn’t?”
“I know that she only received two pages out of a
total of thirteen.”
“Go on.”
“I know where the other pages are,” he said,
arrogantly, casting a line and hoping Barnes would take the
bait.
Barnes observed him for a few seconds, weighing his
words and trying to read his mind.
“You’re lying,” he said finally.
“You wanna risk killing me? What if I’m not
lying?”
“I’ve got the daughter and the father, Jack. I can
do quite well without you.”
“You’d be making sense if you weren’t wrong.”
Barnes could barely contain his wrath. He wanted to
crush this bastard. He shook him, grabbing his lapels.
“Don’t tempt me, Jack. I can finish you off in a
second.”
Bound up as he was, Rafael still defied him with
his look.
“It’s not in your hands, Barnes.”
The latter tightened his grip even more.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that the great Geoffrey Barnes could have
bashed in my brains long ago. You haven’t done it because it’s not
up to you. Not that you don’t want to—I can see it in your eyes—but
there’s a motherfucker above you who won’t let you pull the
trigger.”
“Shut up,” the big man yelled, shoving him against
the wall. Infuriated, he punched him in the stomach. Rafael
collapsed to the floor, but Barnes didn’t let up, and started
kicking him amid an avalanche of insults. Suddenly a strong pair of
hands pulled him back.
“Hold it. Right now,” an elegantly dressed man
ordered, grasping the still-raving Barnes. “What are you
doing?”
“I’m gonna kill this son of a bitch,” Barnes
roared, glaring at Rafael, who was struggling to stand up.
“Get a grip,” the man shouted.
Staughton and Thompson poked their heads in, to see
what was happening.
“Take him out of here,” the man ordered Staughton
and Thompson. Obeying quickly, they started dragging Rafael between
them.
“Not that one, this one,” the newcomer corrected,
keeping a firm hold on Barnes.
The fat man simmered down, taking several deep
breaths and recovering his composure.
“Okay, I’m fine,” he said. “I’m fine.”
“I’m taking over as of now,” the other man
announced. “Go have something to drink and settle your nerves.”
Then he turned to Staughton and Thompson. “Take this gentleman over
with the others. The Grand Master’s already here.”
His orders were immediately followed. Barnes went
through the door without looking back. “Fucking bastards,” he
mumbled. The other two were supporting Rafael, who couldn’t stay on
his feet.
The man who’d restored order in the room readjusted
his Armani suit. The time had come.