Then, while he screamed and cursed and pumped his lifeblood into his lap, I took a pull from one of my bourbon flasks and booted up my laptop. But I hope you’ll reconsider while you still have enough strength to get to the hospital.” Unfolding my X-Acto knife, I leaned down and calmly slashed him open from the inner elbows to the zip ties biting into his wrists. “Well, friend, you’ve gotta do what you feel is right. Flicked it into the dank pool of standing water where the sewer-pipes dripped forever. You’re gonna lose stomach for this before I do.” You just said it yourself, you ain’t a torture guy. “Yeah, what’re you gonna do? Yank out a few fingernails? Go ahead. Even if you survive the experience, you’re not gonna be employable.” “No offense, friend, but I’m not sure you’ve thought this through. And when word gets around that you tried to crack me and couldn’t, I’m gonna have more job offers than I know what to do with.” You think I ain’t hearda you? Everybody’s hearda you in this town. The guy in the chair bared his teeth in a sneer, and snarled. Why don’t you just give me the code, and we’ll go get a drink? You know McDermott’s gonna assume you talked anyway, so you’re already out of a job.” “I don’t really do torture, and my guy’s outta town for the week. “Look, man.” I sighed out a gust of smoke.
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