By this point Caliban had reached him. He picked him up by the neck. The man stopped worrying about the knife. “Where is Slate?” “Gnnrrkk…” “You have to move your thumb or they can’t talk when you do that,” advised Brenner, lounging against the wall. Caliban adjusted his thumb and banged the back of the man’s head against the wall. “Slate,” he said. “Don’t make me ask again.”
