Joe reached out a hand. Duffy stiffened, then realizing how futile it was, just kept his eyes on Joe’s face. Joe took the pad in his fist, and ripped it and the strapping away.
The little guy giggled.
Duffy sank his teeth into his lower lip. He was very pale. The six little wounds began to ooze blood, running down Duffy’s ribs on to the sheet.
Joe sat down on the bed beside him. “Listen, pip,” he said. “First you got Clive, then you fixed Morgan. You got a lot coming to you, ain’t that right?”
Duffy said through his clenched teeth, “Go ahead… only quickly.”
The little guy said, “Yes, Joe—get going.”
Joe said, “I wanta take this guy apart an’ see what makes him tick.”
“That jane’ll be in,” the little guy said.
Joe grimaced. “I’ll spill her insides all over this punk,” he said.
Duffy lay flat on his back, looking up at the ceiling. His face and chest glistened with sweat. He was afraid, not for himself, but for Alice.