"You must do something very special, darling," she said. "I got absolutely nowhere."
Royce said, "I think we'd better get on with it," and Benson shrugged.
"Loomis is very angry with you," Royce said. "He told us to kill you."
"In certain circumstances," said Benson, and Royce nodded agreement.
"In certain circumstances. Those circumstances are almost fulfilled."
"But you can't," said Miriam. "He's on our side."
"No, darling," Benson said, "he's on your side. We,"— the .32 flicked to Royce and herself—"we are on our side."
Miriam's body tensed in the straw and Craig snarled at her, "For God's sake sit still."
Benson laughed, a husky, very feminine laugh.
"You really picked an innocent, Craig," she said. "I don't believe she's worked it out yet."
Royce said to him, "Perhaps you'd better tell her. She'd take it better from you."
Craig turned to her then, and for the first time Miriam could read emotion in his eyes, a vast and weary compassion.
"If they kill me," Craig said, "they won't leave any witnesses .. . I'm sorry."
The girl swerved round, staring at him.
"I don't believe it," she said. "I simply don't believe it."
"But you will," Benson said. "When it happens—you'll believe it all right. Won't she, Craig?"
He made no answer. Whether she was enjoying herself or simply softening him up, there was no need to help her. Royce took a quick step forward, his foot moved, finding the place he'd hit before. But this time Craig saw it coming. He made no sound.
"Answer the lady," said Royce. Craig shrugged.
"She'll know nothing," he said. "She'll be dead. Like me. Like both of you, in all probability."
"Loomis said you never gave up," said Joanna Benson. "Let's go on about your death." She waited a mcment. "It's the best offer we can give you, you know .. . death. Once you've told us where Kaplan is."
"But you know where he is," said Craig.
"Kutsk," said Royce. "That's all we've got. We reckon you have more."
"Why should I?" Craig asked.
"Because you went to see Marcus Kaplan," Joanna Benson said. "Because she's here with you. There has to be more, Craig."
Craig said, "That's all I got." Royce's shoe came back. "I came here looking for you."
The leather cracked again on his rib cage. Once more, and the ribs would break.
"Wait," Benson said. "We'll have time for aE that." She came closer to Craig. "Look, darling," she said, "if this place was all you had, why did you bother coming? You knew we'd be ahead of you."
"At Volukari you were behind me."
"We were looking for you," Royce said. "We got a tip-off you were coming. You weren't all that hard to find."
"You switched cars, didn't you? Followed us in a Fiat van?"
"Yes," Benson said. "Don't waste time, Craig. If all you knew was the town, why did you come?"
"To hijack him from you," said Craig.
Royce drew back his foot again, but Benson spoke quickly, stopping him.
"It makes sense," she said. "You know what he's like— the middle-aged wonderboy."
"But Loomis said-" Royce began.
"Loomis said somebody knew where Kaplan is, and somebody does." She turned to Miriam. "Right, Miss Loman?"
Craig said, "You're completely wrong. She doesn't know a thing. I made her come here."
"How?" Joanna Benson asked. "By stealing her bra? Come on, darling. We know you're not that stupid." She moved closer to Miriam. "Force Three sent you, didn't they? They told you to let Craig pick you up. They told you to let him take you to Turkey. Help him get Kaplan out. Let him kill us, or the Russians if they were handy, and then let their boys take over." Her dark eyes burned into Craig. "You knew that all the time, didn't you, darling? But once you'd got Kaplan—you thought you could bargain."
Miriam said, "It isn't true. He did force me-"
"The innocent American," Joanna Benson said.
"That was later. It just happened. I was scared. I-"
"No True Confessions," said Benson. "Just tell me where Kaplan is."
"But I don't know. I honestly don't know." Benson said, "Let me tell you about this place—and him." She nodded at Royce. "It's a barn. Part of a farm. The farmer and his family are away. There isn't another human being in five miles. You can scream pretty loud I should think, darling—you've got the build for it—but you can't scream five miles' worth. Now, our friend here. Where we trained, he did the interrogators' course. I gather he has a talent for it—and with talent there usually goes a certain amount of enthusiasm. He'll hurt you, darling. Later on you'll be amazed how very much he did hurt you. You wouldn't believe your body could stand so much pain. You'll hate him, of course, but you'll hate yourself more. Because you'll have told him, you see. All that pain will have been for nothing." She looked down at Miriam. "Now tell me, darling. Honestly, you'll do it anyway. Won't she, Craig?"
"Yes," said Craig. "She'll tell you." He began to curse them both, a measured stream of the filthiest invective his mind remembered. Benson and Royce ignored him. Their whole concentration was on the girl.
"But I don't know," Miriam said. "Honestly I don't."
Royce hit her, a hard right that left her sprawling in the straw. His hands went to his pockets and came out with a noose of wire. Quickly he twisted her hands behind her back, drew the noose around them till the girl screamed in pain as he twisted the wire to a spike in the wall.
"Shh, darling," said Benson. "He hasn't started yet."
Royce sat on her legs, pulled the golden zipper of the dress, let it split open down her body. His hands moved again, and Craig turned away, tasting the horror of it, knowing what was to come. Suddenly Miriam screamed again, but not as she had screamed before. A blow hurts and you yell, but the pain is not so strong, and diminishes all the time: but this, this is appalling, degrading, unbearable, and its rhythm intensifies, this terrible, scalding thing he's doing: it never stops, it goes on, gets worse. Her screams ceased to be human, became an animal bellow of agony, continuing even after he'd stopped, he'd hurt her so much, so that in the end he had to strike her across the face, a savage left and right to bring her back to the awareness of the room, the man's weight on her legs, the woman looking down at her. The screams choked to sobs: the terror stayed in her eyes.
"Tell us where Kaplan is, Miss Loman," Benson said.
"Please," Miriam begged, "please believe me. I don't know." The man's hand moved and she screamed out, "I want to tell you. Honestly I do. But I just don't know."
Then the hand moved, the noises began again; the pain grew worse and worse, settled at a high peak of unbearable intensity, then again the blows on her face brought her back to reality.
"Three minutes," said Miss Benson. "He's only done it for three minutes . . . We've got all day, Miss Loman. How long have you got?"
"Don't know," Miriam said, over and over. "Don't know . . . Please."
Craig said, "Can I suggest something?" Benson nodded. "Give me ten minutes with her. Alone . . . She'll tell you."
"Royce is the expert," Benson said.
"I don't need to hurt her," said Craig.
"What then?"
"Talk to her." The disbelief in her face was clear. "What does it matter what I do, if I give you what you want? Ten minutes," he went on. "Suppose I fail. You said yourself—you've got all day."
"Why bother, Craig?"
"I don't want her to be hurt any more."
"You'll recall that once she tells us you'll die?"
"I recall that very well. I still don't want her to be hurt."
Again the dark eyes looked into his. She examined him as if he were a member of an alien species; one she'd been briefed on.
"Ten minutes," she said.