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A spark of defiance gleamed in Merchant's eyes. "I won't tell you anything."
"Then you will surely die," said Pitt coldly.
"Strange words from a marine engineer and an oceanographer, a man who sets women and children on a pedestal, and who is respected for his word and integrity."
"I applaud your homework."
"You won't kill me," said Merchant, regaining control of his emotions. "You are not a professional assassin, nor a man who has the stomach for murder."
Pitt gave a casual shrug. "I'd venture to say that one of your guards, the one I threw over the cliffs about half an hour ago, would disagree."
Merchant stared at Pitt impassively, not certain whether to believe him. "I do not know what Mr.
Dorsett has done with his grandsons."
Pitt moved the rifle barrel from Merchant's head to one knee. "Maeve, count to three."
"One," she began, as composed as if she were counting lumps of sugar in a cup of tea. "Two . . .
three."
Pitt pulled the trigger and a bullet smashed through Merchant's kneecap. Merchant's mistress went into another fit of screaming until Giordino clamped his hand over her mouth.
"Can we please have some quiet? You're cracking the plaster."
A complete transformation came over Merchant. The evil malignity of the repellant little man was suddenly replaced with a demeanor marked by pain and terror. His mouth twisted as he spoke. "My knee, you've shattered my knee!" he rasped in horror.
Pitt placed the muzzle against one of Merchant's elbows. "I'm in a hurry. Unless you wish to be doubly maimed, I suggest you speak, and speak the truth or you'll have a tough time brushing your teeth from now on."
"Miss Fletcher's sons work in the mines with the other laborers. They're kept with the others in the guarded camp."
Pitt turned to Maeve. "It's your call."
Maeve looked into Merchant's eyes, her face taut with emotion. "He's lying. Jack Ferguson, my father's overseer, is in charge of the boys. They would never be out of his sight."
"Where does he hang out?" asked Giordino.
"Ferguson lives in a guest house beside the mansion so he can be at my father's beck and call," said Maeve.
Pitt smiled coldly at Merchant. "Sorry, John, wrong answer. That will cost you an elbow."
"No, please, no!" Merchant muttered through teeth clenched from the pain. "You win. The twins are kept in Ferguson's quarters when they're not working in the mines."
Maeve stepped forward until she was standing over Merchant, distraught and grieved at envisioning the suffering her sons were enduring. Her self-control crumbled as she slapped him sharply, several times across the face. "Six-year-old boys forced to work in the mines! What kind of sadistic monsters are you?"
Giordino wrapped his arms gently around Maeve's waist and pulled her back into the center of the room, as she broke into anguished sobbing.
Pitt's face reflected sorrow and anger. He moved the muzzle to within a millimeter of Merchant's left eye. "One more question, friend John. Where sleeps the helicopter's pilot?"
He's in the mining company's med
ical clinic with a broken arm," Merchant answered sullenly. "You can forget about forcing him to fly you from the island."
Pitt nodded and smiled knowingly at Giordino. "Who needs him?" He looked about the room and nodded toward the closet. "We'll leave them in there."
"Do you intend to murder us?" asked Merchant slowly.
I'd sooner shoot skunks," Pitt pointed out. "But since you brought it up, you and your little friend will be tied up, gagged and locked in the closet."
