Page 50 of The Thief
Then the key went into the front door.
He walked into his house, muttering something as he took his shoes off and threw his keys onto a table. Then, as the door to the living room swung open and the lights went on, we sprang into action. Colton and Will grabbed him by the arms, forcing him to the floor as I slammed the door shut behind him.
He put up a weak fight, but then, he knew the odds wereagainst him; what was the point?
Once Will and Colton had his hands secured behind his back, with the same cable ties that’d been used on me in the robbery, they stood him up, checked him for weapons, then sat him in a wooden dining chair.
“Who the fuck are you? What do you want?” he asked, spit flying as he snarled at us.
“Now, now,” Adam replied, coming to stand in front of him and crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s no way to greet your guests.” He cocked his head to the side. “Would you like to try again, or do I need to smack some manners into you?”
Holmes gritted his teeth, his nostrils flaring as he breathed heavily, thinking about his next move.
“What... do you... want?” he asked in a calmer but still clipped and angry tone.
“That’s a little better.” Adam leaned forward, putting his face right into Holmes’s and added, “So let me get straight to the point. I hate fucking about.” Adam’s eyes had glazed over. He was ready to take this man out. “You’re going to give us the names for the bank robbery in Brinton Manor.”
“I know fuck all about a bank robbery in Brinton Manor,” he spat, and Adam stepped back, then smacked his fist into Holmes’s face, making his head whip to the side, blood oozing from his nose.
“I warned you.” Adam flexed his fingers, grinning back at Holmes. “I said I’d smack some manners into you. Now, let’s start again, shall we? Names.”
Holmes stared back at him. “I just told you. I don’t know about any robbery.”
“Then let me refresh your memory,” I said, moving forward. “On Monday morning, five men robbed a bank in Brinton Manor. One of those men got killed. Shot by his own gang. But then, he wasn’t really part of the gang, was he? I know, because I heard one of them say he regretted listening to you and taking him on after your recommendation.” It was my turn to lean forward now and get in his face. “So cut the bullshit and tell me who that was.”
He swallowed, his eyes on me, but I could tell he was thinking, wondering whether he should talk.
“Let me make this easier for you,” I went on. “Youaregonna give us those names. But how long it takes for us to get them out of you depends entirely on you. We’ve got all night...” I turned to look at Devon as he started to unpack the weapons he’d brought, placing them onto the table. “And we have a shit load of weapons to play with. I hope you have a high pain threshold, mate. Because we’re about to test you to the fucking limit tonight.”
Devon turned on the handheld drill as he came nearer, and then, without warning, he pressed it into Holmes’s left thigh, drilling into his flesh.
Holmes screamed, jolting in his seat as the drill cut through his jeans, his skin, and muscles, making a whirring sound as it hit bone.
“Fuuuuccckkkk!” he cried, turning manic in his pain, sweat pouring as his face twisted and contorted. I thought he was about to pass out. I guess Devon thought the same because he pulled the drill free, and Holmes slumped forward.
“I don’t... know... anything...” he gasped, struggling for breath.
That wasn’t the answer we wanted, and we weren’t aboutto let up on him.
“Then maybe we need to cut it out of your head and find it for ourselves,” I hissed, and Colton stepped forward, handing me a hunting knife.
I stood over him, pressing the blade against his forehead, slicing slowly across his skin, and instantly, he squealed, “Stop. Please. I’ll talk.”
I stopped.
He didn’t talk.
Just gasped for breath.
So, I pressed the knife to his head again, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
“Qu... Quaid,” he stammered. “Leon Quaid.”
I was losing my shit with this asshole.
“We already know that. His name has been all over the fucking papers. How about you give us the real names, ones we can fucking use. Come on.” I pushed the blade in harder. “Stop fucking about.”
Will came to stand beside me with a pair of pliers in his hand, and he grabbed Holmes’s jaw, forcing it open so he could attach them to one of his teeth. Holmes shook his head violently, trying to shake Will off, and he spluttered, “I’ll talk. I’ll talk. Please.”
