Maury. “It might spook him. He needs to believe he’s safe.”
The Albino bows. “Then, with your permission, I will devour one or two harem girls.”
I give a nod. Nario and I walk silently to the big metal door, the music receding, and Nario types in the code. When the door swings open, the smell hits me.
Piss.
Shit.
Blood.
Pain.
Benjamin cringes against the wall in the naked-bulb light. His face is covered in cuts and crimson blotches. A bruise darkens his left eye. I remind myself of all the children he has killed. But still, there’s that frustrating pang of guilt. Conscience is a disturbing thing.
Nario strides across the room, drawing his pistol and pressing it against the top of Benjamin’s blood-matted head. “It fucking stinks in here,” he snarls. “Let me do it, Carlo. How many pounds of pressure does a trigger take? Four, right?”
“Five.”
“Come on,” Nario whines. “He’s worthless. He’s not giving us anything. His father clearly doesn’t care about him.”
“I still think he can be saved. I still believe he can save himself.”
“With what?” Nario laughs dismissively. “He won’t give us shit.”
“Three business locations.” I shrug. “That would do it, wouldn’t it? That would suffice for this evening.”
Nario scoffs. “Sure it would, but let’s say he doesn’t feel like talking. Can I do it then? I want to end this Irish motherfucker.”
With a sigh, I wave a hand. “Yes, you can do it if he refuses to talk.”
I finally turn to Benjamin. His eyes are locked on me, his tongue moving over his dry lips.
“Th-three?” he whispers. “And it will stop? The zombie man will stop?”
Zombie man. He’s talking about the Albino.
I wander over to him and kneel down. He flinches as I place my hand on his shoulder. “This man wants to execute you,” I tell him. “I truly do not want that to happen. But you have to help yourself. Can you remember the names and addresses of three businesses? Ones we don’t know about? Important ones? They have to be important, Benjamin.”
He nods, defeated. “Y-yes.”
Nario’s smile twitches as Benjamin reels them off.
“Does Daddy really not care about me?” he asks when he’s done.
“No, Benjamin.” I stand up, removing my hand. “He doesn’t.”
“There’s something else,” he says, narrowing his eyes. It’s like he’s slipped into a different skin. He looks more lucid than I’ve seen him yet, less crazy. “My little sister is missing. Colleen Sweeney is missing.”
Nario and I exchange a look. We’ve never heard of the Elephant having a daughter before.
Benjamin, suddenly perceptive, notices this. He laughs savagely. “Father likes to keep his women in check.” Father. Not Daddy. “Mother was never allowed to leave the house. She was a quiet, obedient woman. It was the same song-and-dance with Colleen, except she wasn’t so quiet or obedient. Father had this plan to marry her to a cartel don. They were going to form an alliance and take over the city, but Colleen didn’t want to marry him, so … She scaled down the side of a hotel window, from the second floor, clinging to the gutter in the rain. The guards saw it but by then it was too late. She was running. She got away. She’s gone. Colleen is gone. The cartel wasn’t happy, y’know, with the disrespect, so they took one of Father’s hands as punishment.”
Benjamin shakes his head.
“I miss her,” he whispers. “She always encouraged my piano playing, even when Father mocked me. She was a good woman. I think she’s dead, though.”
“Why do you say that?” Nario asks.
We glance at each other again. We’re both well aware that this could be a complete fabrication. Yet my instincts tell me it’s the truth, or at least a nugget of it.
“Because Colleen was never as tough as she thought she was,” he says. “And Father put out a hit on her. On his own daughter. It’s open season on Colleen Sweeney.”
“She’ll be out west by now,” Nario says. “Or Europe. Canada. She might still be alive.”
Benjamin’s eyes get glassy. He slumps back, sighing.
“No,” he growls. “She’s dead. I hope she’s dead.” He laughs oddly, like he’s unsure if he should be laughing. “She took Daddy’s hand.” And just like that, he reverts back to the unhinged, childlike maniac I’ve come to know recently. “So if she’s not dead yet … she’d better hope she dies before he finds her.”
He cackles as we leave.
Outside, in the hallway, I say, “If those addresses check out, let him in the luxury suite. And call Ubert. I want him