Page 67 of Riordan's Revenge
“Be careful,” he grumbled.
I stalled. “You’re coming with.”
“Manny assigned me to the brothel tonight.”
I took a quick breath.No. I needed him.
Shade reappeared in the door. “What’s the delay?”
“Riordan stays with me.”
“Need him to hold your hand?”
“Yes! At all times, preferably, if I don’t need it to wield a blade. You’d better understand emotional literacy if you’re going to keep Everly.”
The enforcer raised an eyebrow.
Riordan grumbled. “Bronson targeted Cassie. I need to know why. If she was random or selected. I want to hear it from his lips.”
Shade gave us another appraising look then shrugged. “Tell Manny I’ve reassigned ye. Now get in the fucking car. Ye ride with me.”
Outside, rain darkened the evening, falling in fine threads across the yellow streetlights.
I settled into the back of a matte black warehouse 4X4 Shade had chosen over his own ride. Riordan slid in the other side, tapping out the message he needed to send. I summoned my thoughts.
I’d expected to have longer to prepare. At least time to grab a snack. Ah well, it was probably better done on an empty stomach when I was hangry, and at least I’d already spent time at home researching one or two things.
Shade pulled out of the car park and spoke. “Now we’re out of any potential earshot, I’ll prepare ye for the different approaches we can take to getting information out of Bronson and the start I’ve made.”
“Ye mean torture techniques?”
He took a corner, other skeleton crew cars ahead and behind. “Exactly.”
My stomach fluttered. “So, my mind goes first to psychologically terrorising him in order to disorientate—a pitch-black room, sensory deprivation. Fuck with his head over where he is and how long he’s been there. Ye could also have used pain as a teacher, leaning into physical intimidation, but Bronson is a seasoned gangster. Chances of him squealing over an electric shock or two are small, so that would be saved for when it’s meaningful. Emotional leverage would be limited—he’s single, an only child, and has no kids that anyone knows of, plus with him over fifty, his parents are either dead or ancient, so he’s less likely to give a shite. Bribing him won’t work. He probably won’t take a bargain. Drugs could help, but I think he’s an addict so will be suffering withdrawal. Further drugs would react unpredictably and might kill the arsehole.” I cocked my head. “I guess that’s why ye had to delay the interrogation? Your knock-out drugs fucked him up?”
Shade’s mouth fell open. “Fucking hell. Correct. Continue.”
“Seducing him is unlikely to work, same with offering any kind of emotional connection. We don’t have time for some cute little thing to tend his wounds and pretend to sell us out. Next on the list is exploiting rivalries. My money would be on that, because it’s where I think he started. We tell him his gang sold him out. Red wants him gone. That kind of thing. Lastly, we break his sanity and torture him until he’s exhausted. Never quit.” A cold smile broke over my face. “That will be sweet.”
Silence followed.
Riordan choked. “Where the hell did you learn all of that?”
“I’ve been researching this for a while, but when ye locked me in my room, I searched up a list of torture techniques and went through each in turn. Shade, did I miss anything? I’m right about how ye started, aren’t I? He’s in a stress position in a dungeon with music blasting? It’s the best approach to break his hostility on waking.”
“Aye, that’s exactly what I’ve done. Jesus.”
I beamed. Impressing Shade was important to me. I wanted to do what he did, and he was the key to that world. “Sorry for speed talking at ye, but the slow delivery of information I already know kills me. So we enter and silence the music then stick a spotlight on Bronson. Flip him the right way up and tell him Red refused to bargain him out so he has to answer questions to save himself. It’s his only option.”
“That was the approach I considered. I’m on the fence about which technique to settle on for information gathering. Any one of them could be our way in. Everyone is susceptible to one, and your assessment is good, but it’s a paper exercise. Ye don’t know the man. For example, in your research, did ye turn up that he came to Deadwater after serving time with a man who became the previous Four Milers’ leader? They established the gang together. He loves the life.”
“He’s loyal,” I mused.
Shade nodded. “To the Four Milers. Not to Red. He’s different to my usual bodies. I don’t know for sure yet that he’s guilty.”
“Right. The only evidence we have is the girl who told Riordan that Bronson uses sedatives.”
The dark night sped by our windows. We’d taken a route back over the bridge to the Scottish side of Deadwater and out towards an industrial area of delivery warehouses and manufacturing plants, all closing down for the evening.