The Kaisho Read Free Page B

thoughts well. She had that canny, intelligent look that he had seen in many a successful gambler. The initial fright was over, and color returned to her cheeks as she recovered her composure. Do Duc gauged that she was not as frightened of him as she ought to be.
    “You said something about an offer.”
    Do Duc nodded, noting the choice of her response as well as the coolness of her voice. “That’s right. We both have something the other wants.” He allowed a smile to spread over his face. “For instance, I want to know where Dominic Goldoni is.”
    A look of relief came over Margarite, and she laughed. “Then you’ve come to the wrong person. Ask the feds. I have no idea where my brother is.” Then she snorted derisively. “Now get the hell out of here, you cheap hustler.”
    Do Duc ignored her. He said, “Don’t you want to know what I have that you want?”
    She smiled sweetly. “What could you possibly—?”
    Do Duc had already stepped into the tub, the water slopping noisily over the side. He put one hand over her face, the other on her chest, and pressed her violently down until her head disappeared beneath the hot water.
    He sidestepped her thrashing legs and dug his fingers into her thick hair, pulling her sputtering and coughing from the water. Her eyes were tearing, her heavy breasts heaving. He saw that, at last, he had gotten her attention.
    “Now,” he said, “can we agree that we have something to talk about?”
    “Bastard,” she moaned. “Bastard to do this to me.”
    You haven’t seen anything yet, Do Duc thought with a measure of satisfaction.
    “I’ve got nothing to say to you.” Margarite pulled her hair off her face. She sat on the edge of the tub, seemingly oblivious now to her nudity. “My own life means nothing to me. I’d never betray my brother, even if I knew where they’ve put him.”
    Do Duc drew an oversize bath towel from a rack above his head, threw it at her. “Dry yourself off,” he said, stepping out of the tub. “I’ve got something to show you.”
    He herded Margarite out of the bathroom. She had wrapped the towel around her so that it covered her from just above her breasts to just above her knees.
    “How stupid are you? Don’t you understand it doesn’t matter what you do to me? I don’t know anything. The feds made sure of that.”
    He took her through the vast master bedroom with its canopied, four-poster bed and sunken sitting area, complete with curved velvet love seat and ornate marble fireplace, its mantel held aloft by carved cherubim. A hideous ormolu clock ticked sonorously in the center of the mantel.
    Halfway down the hall, Margarite felt her throat catch. She knew where they were headed. “No,” she said in a very small voice. “Oh, please, God, no!”
    He allowed her to break away from him, and she ran the rest of the way through a half-open door into another bedroom suite. Do Duc followed after her, stopped at the threshold, stooping to retrieve the bath towel that had come undone. He put it over his left arm as he entered a room painted pale pink. Ruffled curtains covered the windows, and a number of large stuffed animals sat or stood on the bed.
    “Francie!”
    Do Duc watched the scene: the naked mother, distraught, teary, hands clasped to her face, staring in horror at her fifteen-year-old daughter strung up by her ankles to the central light fixture.
    “Oh, my God, Francie!”
    The teenager’s oval face, flushed with blood, was wholly inexpressive. Her eyes were closed, her lips half-open.
    “She isn’t dead,” Do Duc said. “But she will be if you don’t do as I say.”
    Margarite whirled. “Yes, yes. Anything. But take her down!”
    “When you’ve done as I ask.” Do Duc’s voice was gentle. “I’ve no wish to hurt her, you see. But know that her life is in your hands.” He came across the room, handed Margarite the towel. “Do we understand one another now?”
    Margarite again gave him that look he had seen so