Page 187 of The Fourth Option
“No, but there’s not much resistance left in him.”
“Wake him up,” Bates ordered, turning his attention to Belle. “And who have we here? Mirabelle Travois. You should have left well enough alone and you might have survived all this.”
“Fuck you.”
Bates crossed his arms against his chiseled chest.
“That’s no way to talk to law enforcement.”
“Excuse me,” she said. “Fuck you, cocksucker!”
Bates laughed. “This will all be over soon. You might have a bigger role in this than you imagined.”
Bates turned back to the Afghan and the naked man hanging from the rafter.
He slapped Walker across the face.
“Wake up, hero,” Bates said.
Walker’s eyes slowly opened.
“Ah, you’ve come back to us,” the police lieutenant said. “Can you hear me?”
“I hear you.”
He nodded at the Afghan, who twisted the crank on the old phone, shooting another jolt of current through Walker’s body, sending it into convulsions. He slapped Walker across the face again.
“What made you want to complicate my life?”
Walker stared into Bates’s eyes.
“Hit him again!”
The Afghan spun the crank.
Walker’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as his body spasmed.
“Again!”
The Afghan spun the dial once more.
Walker’s screams were arrested by the current, resulting in a gargled, fragmented howl.
“Why are you here, cowboy? You kill Sergeant Dupuis? How about Walt Kimbel? You blow up Nectar? We know you killed Gormley. Gormley was a friend of mine. Why did you do it? More importantly, who did you tell?”
Walker’s body rocked back and forth above the floor. He remained silent.
“Hit him again. And keep cranking that thing.”
Walker’s body thrashed in violent spasms as the Afghan continued to turn the crank. More electricity flowed through his body, the smell of sweat and burnt flesh permeating the small room.
“Enough!” Belle screamed.
Walker fought to catch his breath.
“I brought something with me,” Bates said, reaching into his pocket. “I thought you’d want to see it.”
He produced a vintage Tudor dive watch.
