Page 90 of The Picasso Heist
I don’t answer. I look away from him.
He laughs, the laugh of someone who finds almost nothing funny. It’s quick and to the point, a borderline grunt. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He leans forward. “Do you know who I am?”
I still don’t answer.
He’s done being amused. He grabs my face, his thick, bulky hand crushing my cheeks, and forces my head back toward him. “Look atme when I’m talking to you,” he says through clenched teeth. “And answer me when I ask you a damn question. You got that?”
I nod. His vise-like grip eases, and he lets go of my face. I’ve never been punched, but my jaw now knows the feeling. “I know who you are,” I say. “Everybody does.”
“Because of what you see on TV and in the papers—is that what you mean?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the only way you know who I am, huh? From reading about me? Watching the news?”
“Yes.”
“So how is it that I know about you, Halston?” he asks. “How the hell do I even know your name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why do I not believe you?”
“I don’t know that either,” I say.
“You know what I think? I think you’re lying to me.”
“I’m not. I swear to God.”
“You don’t strike me as a very religious person.”
“Okay, I swear on my life, then.”
“Your life, huh? Now we’re talking,” he says.
Dominick Lugieri doesn’t nod or motion with his hand. He simply stares at me, eyes burning into mine. I hear footsteps behind me but I don’t turn. Only when I feel it do I say anything.
“Wait. Stop. What are you doing?”
There’s a gun to my head.
“We’re going to play a little game,” says Lugieri. “Turns out, Malcolm here is like a human polygraph machine. Isn’t that right, Malcolm?”
“Something like that,” he says.
It’s only three words but this Malcolm sounds different than hedid when he was doing all the talking back at the Downhome diner. His voice is deeper, as if he’s flipped a switch inside. Not on, but off. There’s no emotion. He’s soulless. Like a stone-cold killer.
“The rules are simple,” says Lugieri. “Tell the truth and you might live. But lie to me one more time and you die.”
CHAPTER77
“ARE YOU READYto play?”
Lugieri takes a few steps back as he asks, because God forbid he gets any of my blood and brains splattered across his expensive suit.
“Please, no.Pleasedon’t do this,” I beg.
He rolls his eyes. “Oh, for Christ’s sake. Are you really going to start crying?”
