Schiller counted Williams's heartbeat in front of him. Once he confirmed that Williams had passed out, he gradually relaxed the pressure in his arms. As he withdrew them, he used the thumb-dislocation method to slip out of the handcuffs, then dragged Williams over and sat him in the chair beside him.
Schiller searched him but found no key to the handcuffs. So he deliberately made some noise, drawing in the subordinates outside.
He pushed the chair to the middle of the room and arranged Williams's arms around its back, making it look as though his own hands were cuffed. Schiller hid behind the chair and called out to the people outside.
"Get me a car, or your boss's life is forfeit."
"What are you doing? You lunatic! Let him go!"
Schiller knew without looking that guns were trained on him, but he still said unhurriedly, "I know it isn't easy to find work these days. He pays you well enough that you can support your families."
"But I hope you'll use your brains and think about it. If you were really just ordinary security guards, patrolling casually and watching surveillance feeds every day, why would he pay you so much? Do you think he's an idiot?"
The people outside exchanged glances. Schiller had obviously struck a nerve. Williams was a businessman, not one of Gotham's old Mafia bosses. Every one of his employees had been hired with money. A high-paying job like this was enough to make people risk their lives for him in these times, but that did not stop them from wondering how something so contrary to basic economics had come about.
No capitalist was kind. Williams was not some major capitalist by any measure, but he was still a shrewd old businessman. Everyone who dealt with him