“Seems like a legitimate setup,” Lucius said. “I can pull some specialists in to go through his network if you want?”

“No need,” Yuri said.

“You guys,” Joaquin challenged, his voice high with bravado. “You are in shit so deep! I got rights, you know. My lawyer’s going to bust your balls for this!”

Yuri smiled down at him. “For what?”

“You even got a warrant?”

“Why would I have a warrant? I don’t work for a government.”

“Huh? Then who the fuck are you?”

“My name is Yuri, and I’m conducting a small experiment.”

Joaquin turned a troubled gaze at the statue-like paramilitaries. “What fucking experiment?”

“To see how smart you are, Joaquin.”

“What the hell is this?”

“I’m going to talk now. I want you to listen. Understand?”

“Go fuck your whore mother up the ass, you piece of corporate shit!”

Yuri pointed to the paramilitary on Joaquin’s left. “Do you have a knife?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Take it out and stab Joaquin here, just above his knee. Don’t puncture a major blood vessel. I don’t want him bleeding out before he’s told us what we want to know.”

“What the actual fuck?”

“Yes, sir.” The paramilitary drew a Bowie knife from his belt scabbard.

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

“Why, what’s going to stop him?” Yuri asked pleasantly.

“No way. Don’t. Okay, I’m listening, all right? I’ll listen to you. Just don’t—”

Yuri held up a finger to the paramilitary. “That’s good, Joaquin. Now it’s important that you realize I’m prepared to cripple you just to get you to shut up before we even start the real session. So I’m thinking if you annoy me, I’m going to start walking around to see what kind of power tools I can pick up. You’ll have plenty, I’m sure; you’ll need them for your business. Big ones, small ones, very sharp ones, badly blunt ones…Am I right? Now try and imagine how I can use them. And on what bits of you.”

Joaquin pushed himself back into the chair, panic making his breathing heavy.

“Now where were we? Oh, yes, I was going to say something. Think of this as your starter question for ten points—or in your case, you-get-to-keep-the-toes-on-your-left-foot points. Baptiste Devroy. Who is he?”

“I can speak now?”

“You may speak now. But let’s keep it short and focused, shall we?”

“He’s my cousin. I don’t ever see him, honestly.”

“But you’re in contact, aren’t you?”

“Some. Maybe a little. Yeah.”

“Not anymore you won’t be. As of an hour ago, cousin Baptiste will never be talking to you ever again—nor anyone else.”

“Christ, what did you do?”

“I did nothing. Our London division dealt with him.”

“London division…Who are you people?”

“People who only a terminally stupid asshole would piss off.”

“Shit on a stick!”