by Xavier Neal
Miko releases his grip on the valet’s foot while I villainously smirk. “It’s incredible what a good chemist can do provided the right equipment and financial incentive.”
More muffled sounds are made; however, they don’t phase the two men standing behind him, prepared to lend a hand if necessary.
They were part of Shay’s team that helped us capture him in Prague.
We took a few members from our own organization to go with the ones being loaned by Shay. Extraction itself was quick and effortless. Easy snatch and grab. What took so long was having to work around getting the package picked up. Once it was done, we were free to collect the target, clean his presence, and relocate him here to one of the farms under our corporation that produces high quality pork.
It also houses a useful set of animals that Hebert refers to as “pet pigs”.
Ones not deemed good enough for market.
Yet perfect for other purposes.
“I’m going to tell you what it is I know,” I begin at the same time I rise to my feet to take the new nail Miko is offering me, “and when I’m done, you’re going to tell me the things I don’t.” My second lowers himself to another squatting position to secure the valet’s right foot in place. “The longer you take to tell me what it is I want to hear, the more pain I will promptly put you in. You see,” I match Miko’s stance, “your delay in providing me what it is I need then delays me getting back to the very woman you took from me.”
The hammer is swung hard down on his bare foot.
He howls in agony prior to my best friend teasing, “Hai dimenticato di mettere l'unghia, Capo.”
“Oops,” my chilling tone taunts. “You’re right. I did forget to put the nail in.” I bore my stare into the valet’s. “My mistake.” Jabbing it in through the bruised skin is done swiftly on a scowl. “Like yours was physically stealing my fiancée.” Blood trickles down to the wood from the tiny hole I’ve created, staining the 2x4 underneath his foot. “My fiancée!” This time the hammer lands on the head with enough force to drive the nail deeper. Anguish-filled screams continue to echo throughout the cold barn as I repeatedly slam on the object. “Your real name is Franklin Daring, named in honor of Benjamin Franklin, a man who would be disgusted,” I pound needlessly harder, “that scum like you share any type of connection. You were dishonorably discharged from the army. Smash and grabs were initially how you made some cash until you found out there were people willing to pay you for some skill sets you possessed.” The tool cracks his foot again on the final blow. “What I don’t know is who hired you to physically take my fiancée and why.” My eyes move back up to his. “I know why you killed one of my men and her father. They were possible threats. You have to eliminate the obstacles to cleanly capture your target.” Turning around the hammer to wedge his pinky toe into the claw opening, I continue, “What I don’t know is did you execute the extraction on your own, or is there someone else we need to hunt down like the pathetic, piece of shit, poisonous toad you are.” One quick twist of the wrist breaks the tiny toe away from the others. “Breaking this was a reminder to be considerate of my time.”
I stand back up with the hammer lingering at my side and motion to the guard on his right to remove the gag.
Upon its removal, he immediately calls for help like we’re in some B class horror movie where the local sheriff will just happen to be driving by, hear his screams, and investigate.
We are not.
Although, even if we were, the sheriff knows better than to ever step foot on this property after dark.
Funds that are helping put his daughter through private school ensure that.
Head shakes of disappointment are first. Heavy hits to each of his feet are next. Bones cracking and pools of blood join together to instill content while reiterating my point regarding patience. Franklin curses loudly. Cries louder for me to stop. Watches me continue beating his feet until they’re a pretty purple from the blood splatter and bruising. His inability to catch his breath hinders him from calling for assistance, which indicates to me, it’s time for me to talk once more.
On a careless toss of the tool to the side, I state, “Shall we start over from the top?”
He continues to pant in pain.
“Who hired you?”
His blatant refusal to answer would be admirable if it weren’t somewhat aggravating.
The longer it takes to uncover the answers that he only knows, the longer it takes to return home to my miserable, pregnant fiancée – who can barely get herself out of bed thanks to whoever this prick is protecting.
Fury rushes through my bloodstream prompting me to pull out the automatic knife from my pocket. Its blade is exposed at the tiniest push, but it’s that very extension that seems to instill the level of fear I’m anxious for. Driving into his thigh just above his kneecap, I begin methodically carving into his skin. Rather than make a deep clean cut, I slice just enough of a thin layer, grip it, and yank to tear off the loose flesh. Metallic smells flood the air alongside new screams. Neither of the guards look bothered, but the one on the left looks impressed.
I lift the tiny bit of dangling skin up to his eye level. “You will eat this if I have to repeat myself.”
“I-I-I I don’t know who hired me!” He squawks out loudly.
“I am finding it hard to fucking believe that nobody knows who fucking hired them!” His severed flesh is thrown at his boxer-covered lap. “Who fucking paid you!”
“I-I-I I didn’t get my final payment.”
“Why not?!”
Franklin makes the fun mistake of hesitating to answer.
The blade is swiftly thrust into his shin, only stopping because it hits bone. Agonizing screams are expelled in tandem with his secured body shaking. Unlike before, where I took my time to make a precise incision, I quickly drag the knife down and out. Rubrication instantly occurs. Seeing the gushing turn the untouched skin a different shade settles my momentary dissatisfaction enough to return my stare to his.
“Fuckkkkkk!” He hollers, his head wildly whipping back and forth. “Fuck! I’ll tell you everything I know!”
“You will,” the complete upward position is resumed, “or I’ll remove your entire goddamn leg next.”
I plan to do that anyway, but that’s beside the point.
Franklin nods his understanding, mumbles his promises, and clearly struggles to think through the pain.
Folding my arms across my chest so that my blade can remain seen as a reminder, I state, “Remus.”
The man behind him to his left retrieves a small black bag from his pocket. There’s no hesitation from him to remove the syringe that’s lingering inside nor to inject it directly into Franklin’s neck.
“That will take the edge off enough for you to coherently answer my questions; however, if at any point I believe you’re lying to me, or I begin to believe your pain has passed a level above bearable, our conversation will end. I will wait until this drug wears off and administer the other, again, before making good on my promise to the currently untouched leg.”
His eyes widen in fear.
Good.
My chin kicks his direction. “Payment.”
“I um…,” Franklin takes a deep nerve stilling breath, “didn’t get the final one because I jumped ship.”
“Why?”
“When I got the message to kill the guy who helped me kidnap the target, I knew what was happening. Whoever hired me – I swear I don’t fucking know who – was gonna be tying up loose ends, and I would be one of them. So, I said fuck it, took the money I already had, and got the fuck out of the country.”
He ran.
Cowardly.
Smart.
Well, smarter than taking the wrong woman.
Mine.
“Tell me about the other payments. Wired?”
“Cash.”
“You had contact with someone then. Who?”
“Different people.”
Irritation instant
ly grows in my glare.
Why am I not fucking surprised this game of Chess continues?
“I uh…I first met this chick in Reno at an underground club. She said that some dude I knew from a couple smash and grab jobs in Jersey, she knew, too. We went back to her swanky fucking hotel room, we fucked, and she gave me some cash and a phone. Told me she’d be in contact if she needed my services.”
“Where’s the phone?”
“Bottom of the ocean.”
Figures.
“What’d she look like?”
“Tall? Great fucking legs. Blue eyes. Black hair. Bobbed up by the ears. Shit might’ve been a wig though. She wouldn’t let me pull it when we were fucking.”
“Fuck that,” Miko mumbles from beside me. “Devo essere in grado di tirare i capelli a una ragazza.”
I need to be able to pull a chick's hair.
I immediately nod in agreement, yet stop when thoughts that I may never get to do that to my future wife because this asshole took her cut it short.
“When did the call come?”
“Couple weeks later. She said to meet her contact at a diner in Bennvilla. The contact would have the details.”
Ballsy to do the shit in the town I fucking own.
“I met him, but the problem was…I couldn’t take the contract. They wanted me to break into an office – gonna make a wild guess here and guess it was yours – and steal some shit, which wasn’t an issue, but the timing was. I already had another job lined up in Toronto, so I told them I knew someone else who could get the job done and was offered a cut for putting them in contact. We met a couple times over like a week or some shit. I went to the meetings ‘cause I was the dude’s ride, and since I didn’t know this guy needing the shit done or the chick I fucked for the shit, it was just a smarter move.” He gives us a small shrug. “Or, kind of, anyway. He didn’t exactly survive the B&E.”
Interesting.
The attack on Chantal at the office wasn’t, theoretically, with the intention to kill her.
It was to steal something, and she got in their way.
Or, least that’s how it’s sounding.
“The guy you met at the diner…what did he look like?”
Franklin immediately frowns. “I don’t fucking remember. He had one of those faces. Maybe glasses? I wasn’t trying to fuck him, so remembering him seemed less important.”
God, it’s like talking to my cousin.
“I didn’t see him again after that shit either.”
“Name?”
“He had us call him Emilio.”
A mixture of a scoff and laugh come from Miko. “Like the actor?”
“What kind of dirty shit did you have on this actor that his agent couldn’t fix?”
The punch from me that lands in the middle of his face receives loud groans of discomfort.
It takes him a moment and several face stretches to work through the new ache created. “That’s all I fucking remember about the guy!”
“When’d the woman get in contact again?”
“I don’t remember the exact date, but she sent me another message to that phone. All it had was an address. It was a motel in SoCal. Figured maybe she wanted to fuck again, given the location…” Franklin shakes his head slightly. “I was handed a room key by some elderly woman that didn’t fucking speak English, and in the room, there was an envelope with the job I would be completing, an identity I would be playing, details of the shit job I would be doing to blend in, a hotel room key where I’d be staying, and more cash with a promise of four times the amount when it was complete. I got a text about an hour after I had been there that said I took the job this time, or I’d end up like my buddy did in Bennvilla.” There’s a small pause proceeded by a head shake. “Kidnapping isn’t my greatest fucking skill, but I’d done it a couple times in the past. Usually a kid. Damn sure not a grown ass, fucking woman wearing a brick on her hand.”
I bite down on my tongue to resist the urge to smile over the ring being turned into a weapon like her father wanted. “Is that where the cut on your face came from?”
“Yeah,” he unhappily sneers. “Your bitch wasn’t as easy to take as I thought she’d be.”
The knife in my hand is instantly jammed into the flesh around his knee. I slice upwards. Downwards. Sever ligaments. Tissue. Each cut causes a scream, and each scream causes a new cut.
Our violent cycle is accompanied by massive amounts of chuckles from my second. “Odia sentirla chiamare così più di quanto odia la parola rapimento.”
He hates hearing her called that more than he hates the word kidnap.
Blood coats my fingers and the brown marble handle, but I only stop the slashing when it damn near slips out of my grip. At that, I stand up straight, once more, and begin to use the edge of my shirt to dry it. “Remember anything else?”
His head wordlessly bobs around in response.
“Keenan.”
The other guard that didn’t administer the shot grips Franklin’s head still by his hair.
Once his eyes find mine, I ask, “Did she contact you from the same number each time?”
“No.”
“The motel in SoCal. You remember which one?”
“No…it was um…just some shitty hole in the wall near the border.”
My hope continues to dwindle. “Do you remember the vehicle Emilio was driving?”
“He walked from…some…uh…some fucking where.”
“Every time you met?”
“Every goddamn time.”
“Where’d you sit in the diner?”
“Back,” he grumbles out, the temporary pain killer most likely wearing off, “he didn’t uh…Cameras. He didn’t want any cameras to catch us. Avoided them on the street, too.”
He knows my town.
That means he, most likely, lives in our town.
He, and whoever the woman was, wanted something from that office…most likely, in Chantal’s meticulous notes or files. I already know an employee is stealing from me, but the idea it’s somehow connected to the death threats and physical taking of my fiancée is unexpected.
Was this all about covering their tracks from embezzling?
Were they obsessed with my fiancée, and so the messages about leaving me were really so that this unknown male could have her?
Is none of this shit as cut and fucking dry as I desperately need it to be?
“Do you remember anything else about him or the nameless chick you fucked?” The next portion of my inquiry is in a quieter tone, “An accent? Tattoos? Moles? Fucked up teeth? Anything?”
“No.”
“You’re useless now.”
His face twitches at the statement.
“Tai,” I summon him into the barn from where he’s been waiting patiently outside.
Tao’s younger brother, who looks almost identical to him, steps into the room instilling new panic by the way his eyes bulge.
“You can relax, Franklin. The member of my team you killed didn’t rise from the dead.” Closing my blade, I put it back into my pocket and motion Tai’s direction. “This is his younger brother. He has so kindly offered to assist me in your dismemberment and disposal.”
Tai slowly approaches, the butcher’s saw dangling anxiously from his fingertips.
“Occhio per occhio…,” An eye for an eye…, “seems fitting.”
Franklin’s meek objections fall on deaf ears.
Remus and Keenan are left to assist in any way necessary, while Miko and I exit the barn side by side. Screams leak out from behind us, while bright moonlight shines on the path ahead. He, eventually, pulls out a cigarette. Lights it. Releases hums to imply his placation. I hold onto my rocky composure, doing my best not to scold him for finding reprieve instead of continuing to struggle for it like myself. When we arrive on the part of the property where Hebert keeps the pigs that will eat the body, I stop a safe distance from the fence. Still, neither of us says anything.
I listen to h
im puff on his stick of peace.
I listen to the bugs busily buzzing.
I listen to the ominous hooting an owl seems to be doing.
My mind starts to wonder, is he warning others away by telling them that’s his territory?
Is he alerting others that predators are nearby or reminding his prey that he is?
Perhaps he’s trying to communicate with his mate.
The notion that it’s the latter drops my head forward in defeat.
Why am I having so much trouble doing that with mine?
Why can we not fully connect?
What happens if we never do?
What happens if we’re always this…distant?
“They’re not the best leads, but it beats the shit out of the nothing we had.”
Miko’s statement drags my stare up to his.
“Reno’s only got so many casinos with luxury suites like I’m sure he was trying to describe, so it won’t be easy to track down the alias she gave, but not as hard as if she had done the shit in Vegas.” He takes another drag. “But, if she had done this shit in Vegas, avoiding cameras would’ve been even fucking harder.”
The constant camera avoidance informs me that whoever the woman is or whoever this pair is are professionals or have been trained by them.
“Take his picture by the diner this week, as well. See if the waitresses remember seeing him with any of the locals. Knowing where the cameras are and walking to the diner leads me to believe they work downtown. It also leads me to believe they work for me, so check my male employees from that branch and any others connected to the company. See how many frequent that diner for lunch. It may yield better results.”
“Seems like a task the woman you won’t let breathe without a doctor’s note would enjoy.”
His sarcastic statement steals a quick glare out of me.
“You don’t wanna hear what I have to say.”
“Io mai?
Do I ever?
He lightly laughs, takes another drag, and shrugs. “You can have that one.”
“Pity points. No grazie.”
“I think Chantal would love to help us.”
My gaze darts ahead to where Remus is throwing a severed limb to the waiting pigs.
“I think she deserves to be a part of this shit.”
