"Wouldn't want that, would we." Vance handed it over, metal stock first.
"Thank you." Ramirez took it and tossed it to the emaciated, balding man standing next to him. "By the way, you know my name but I still do not know yours."
"Vance. Mike Vance." Why not tell him? he thought. It hardly matters now.
"Vance . . . that name rings a bell . . . from somewhere . . ." The thoughtful look turned slowly to a smile. "Ah yes, as I recall you work free-lance for ARM." He paused, the smile vanishing as he mentioned the name. "So tell me, are they planning to try to meddle here? That would be a big mistake, Mr. Vance, I can assure you."
More bad news, Vance thought. Ramirez is no fool. He must have known we did the security for this place.
"I've got a feeling they're going to be interested in what happens to me, if that's what you mean."
Ramirez moved closer, looking squarely in his face. "You know, the eyes of a man always tell more about him than any words he can say. And your eyes give you away. You're lying, and you're scared." He stepped back and smiled.
"And I'll tell you something," Vance continued, meeting his stare. "When I look in your eyes, I don't see anything. But even a hyena can know fear. Your time will come." It was pointless bravado, but it felt good to say it.
"We'll see who can know fear." Ramirez scowled angrily at the use of the nickname he hated. "We will also learn something about your tolerance for pain, Mr. Vance. In very short order. You are not very popular with some of my men."
“They're not very popular with me." The defiance just kept coming; he wasn't sure from where. "And I've got some other news for you. You're about to find out that Andikythera is a very small, vulnerable objective."