The only thing that saved Justino Mendoza from receiving even more blows was a woman’s scream.
Rosa Mendoza had witnessed everything from her hiding place and could not stand by and watch again as these cowards set upon her husband. She flew at Thanos screaming for him to stop her hands instinctively slashing wildly at his face as she sped towards him. Thanos was slow to react and felt the talon-like, painted nails of Rosa Mendoza rip across his cheek causing blood to seep gently from the three perfectly spaced red scratch lines that had appeared instantly as his head was yanked painfully sideways as her other hand grasp a handful of his short, greasy hair.
Grimshawe, as surprised as Thanos by the sudden appearance and attack, held back his next punch in mid-flight and turned quickly to see the demented woman attacking his boss. Knowing that his first priority was to protect Thanos he let go of the dazed Mendoza dropping him to the floor and grabbed Rosa Mendoza by the back of her hair and yanking her violently away from Thanos. Raising a clenched fist he pulled his arm back ready to deliver the punch when a sharp shout stopped him.
“No! don't hit her. I need her for Saturday night!” there was an urgency in the order that caught Grimshawe`s attention. Even now the greedy businessman in Thanos thought of the bottom line and what she was worth to him undamaged. He wiped his bleeding cheek with the back of his hand and grabbed her jaw in a vice-like grip, “After Saturday, bitch, you’re mine” Rosa struggled and brought up her left knee sharply catching him perfectly in the groin.
Thanos involuntarily released her and bent over slightly grimacing at the sudden shot of pain. He braced himself against the counter breathing in deeply as he recovered. “Bitch!” he snarled softly. The look of defiance in her eyes goaded him into teaching her a lesson. “Bring him!” he ordered Grimshawe.
Rosa saw the look in his eyes and for the first time in her life was genuinely terrified. His hand shot out and grabbed her by the throat propelling her backwards towards the stockroom making her feet and legs work in double time in order to keep her balance as she was forced into the small room followed almost immediately by her husband who hit the shelving unit with such an impact that cartons of cigarettes fell from the top shelve landing on the unfortunate Mendoza's head and shoulders.
Grimshawe joined them pushing the door closed so that no one could see in. “Strip!” Thanos ordered bluntly. The defiance again flashed across her eyes as she stood directly in front of him and spat in his face. Again it was greed that dictated his reaction as he refrained from hitting her. Instead he slowly wiped his face on his jacket sleeve. “You got your knife on you?” he spoke without looking at Grimshawe.
Grimshawe`s pulse quickened as he reached into his pocket and felt for his brown-handled knife. He depressed a button at the blade end of the handle and there was a smooth, swishing noise as a lethal six-inch blade flicked out from its encasement within the handle.
She breathed in sharply and her eyes widened with fear at the sight of the shiny blade but, even though she was shaking inside, she was still determined that this animal was not going to rape her again. “Cut off the tip of his little finger!” growled Thanos his cold eyes never left her.
Grimshawe stepped forward and viciously punched Justino Mendoza hard cracking several ribs as he slammed back into the shelving. She leapt forwards intending to do what little she could against these men to protect him but, as before, Thanos grabbed her from behind and locked his arm around her neck preventing her from moving, his right hand immediately reaching round and grabbing her right breast.
With a huge sadistic grin plastered across his face Grimshawe grabbed Mendoza`s left wrist with his left hand and twisted it backwards at the same time putting pressure on the back of his shoulder. The pain caused by the over-stretched tendons forced the unfortunate Mendoza to fall to his knees on the floor screaming in pain.
“Please! Please!” begged Mendoza.
Once he was on his knees Grimshawe placed his foot in the middle of his shoulder blades pushing him down on the floor. Stamping down viciously on his kidneys forcing the beaten Mendoza`s body to stiffen involuntary he kicked him in the armpit before kneeling in the middle of his back. Stretching out his arm he stood on the back of his hand, pinning him down so that he was unable to move.
Rosa stopped struggling. Terrified at what she was about to witness and helpless to stop it she turned her head to look away.
Thanos grabbed her chin forcing her head back round to watch, “Watch, my little slut! This is what happens when you misbehave!”
Tears poured from her beautiful eyes and feeling as though she was going to vomit there was nothing she could do but watch this sick and cruel act of barbarism on her beloved husband.
Nausea swept over her again and she felt herself gag as the tip of the evil-looking blade was placed alongside the top joint of his little finger. The evil bastard looked up at her still sporting the same sadistic grin.
Justino struggled desperately to free himself but was no match for the physical strength of the young thug that was kneeling on his back. His screams of terror only seemed to fuel the knifeman’s sadistic air of superiority as he slowly brought pressure to bear on the knife.
Grimshawe could have severed the joint quicker saving the unfortunate Mendoza from much of the pain but he enjoyed inflicting himself on people. Especially those who were defenceless against him.
Terror took hold of him and he started to shake uncontrollably. “Noooo…! Noooo…!” he screamed and unable to turn his head away closed his eyes tightly, almost painfully, as the knife cut into his skin. The pain increased beyond anything that he had ever experienced before as he felt the blade against the bone. There was a sickening crunching sound as the metal blade crushed rather than cut it way through the thin bone and then silence.
Sobbing in shock he stopped shaking and opened his eyes and looked at the bloody stump that was the end of his little finger as blood pumped out of it.
Her stomach churned as she fought back the rising ball of vomit in her it. She physically shuddered at her husbands screams and then a sound that would haunt her for the rest of her life as the bone crunched and split as the knife cut through it.
Thanos relaxed the grip on her chin. A traumatised Justino had stopped screaming and was sobbing now as blood pumped from the stub that was left at the end of his little finger.
Grimshawe looked proudly down at his handiwork as Thanos looked on fascinated at the appalling sight. He had found his new lieutenant. Someone who would do his bidding with no questions asked. “Now slut strip or I’ll cut his fucking balls off!” he threatened.
To shocked to argue and to frightened to fight any more she did as she was ordered and lay on her back on the dirty floor as Thanos got on top of her and, forcibly holding her hands over her head, raped her again his eyes never leaving her husband.
Grimshawe eyes were glued to the scene in front of him. He felt the familiar rush of excitement as sexual violence was forced upon a defenceless woman. His own penis, restrained by the material of his trousers, was throbbing in anticipation. He had raped plenty of girls before but none as beautiful as her. Thanos got off her and saw the bulge in his young upstarts’ trousers. “If you want her I suggest you fuck her now because once those Arab bastards have finished with her she won’t be the same.”
The tears rolling down Rosa Mendoza's cheeks were not for her. They were for her husband. He was a kind, gentle man who did not deserve this. These animals could use her body but they could never match up to her beloved Justino.
******
Burglary was not Morton’s forté but it had been a useful skill for him to learn. Matt and Rita Lazensky`s two-bedroomed apartment was exactly what he expected from a council let. It was nothing special just practical, easily laid out with fairly small rooms. The interior, though, surprised him!
The living room was a miss-match of vulgar taste and clashing colours. The cream coloured leather sofa was much too large for the small room and to
ok up much of the available floor space and clashed violently with the obviously new blue, sculptured shag pile carpet. Along the wall, adjacent to the door, was a badly crafted, reproduction antique dark pine wall unit that ran the length of the wall but on the wall opposite the sofa was the tell as far as he was concerned. A fifty-inch plasma television was fixed onto the wall hooked up to a satellite receiver and a state of the art DVD player.
Morton's search of the place was slow and thorough. The Lazensky`s obviously did not anticipate any unexpected visitors or else they would have been more careful about where they hid their cash. A large bundle of notes bound together with an elastic band was half hidden behind a bottle of single malt scotch in the cocktail cabinet of the wall unit and another in a cupboard under the sink in the cramped kitchen.
In the bedrooms he found even more cash along with an assortment of designer clothes, expensive looking jewelry and a computer system that looked to Morton as though it belonged in a science fiction programme!
Finding Matt Lazensky was not hard. Morton applied his knowledge of where most lazy bastards would go to spend their day and logic told him he had two choices; either the pub or the bookies. Since it was a bit early for a drink, even for low-life like Lazensky, he decided to try the bookies.
Morton disliked bookies for the same reason that he disliked nightclubs and pubs. He could not understand why anyone would want to deliberately pollute their lungs and poison their bodies with cigarette smoke. He felt the acrid smoke burn his nose and the back of his throat as soon as he entered the premises.
Lazensky was easy to find. He was holding court with a bunch of worthless looking deadbeats who believed that the answer to their financial problems was riding on the back of the next horse!
Morton crossed over to him and tapped him on the shoulder, “Outside!”
Lazensky felt a slight quiver go through him as he turned and saw Morton, “I’m busy,” he replied and turned his back on him.
Morton was not known for his patience especially for a lazy piece of scum like Lazensky. He put his hand around the back of his neck and squeezed hard, “Outside now or I'll drag you out there by your balls!” Once outside he was unceremoniously pushed into the back of Morton's car which sped off immediately.
Morton's driver for the day was a small, wiry man whose dark eyes had a vacant, penetrating stare that seemed as though he was looking at your soul. He was not one of his favourite people but they went back a long way and his job, when he was not moonlighting for the likes of Morton, was a rat catcher, which was the precise reason he had been chosen today.
“You can’t fucking do this!” protested Lazensky. “There’s laws against kidnapping!”
“Shut up!” warned Morton.
They stopped at a set of traffic lights and Lazensky made to open the door, “I`m getting outa here! You got no fucking right!”
Morton's right arm shot out and he grabbed Lazensky by his lank hair, “One more fucking word from you and you'll be sucking on your own balls! Got it!” The rest of the journey was completed in silence. He had an unnerving feeling what this was about!
They arrived at the workhouse and he was part lead and part pushed into an unused area of the warehouse. His pallor had definitely changed and his usual ruddy complexion had lost some of its glow and was now decidedly pastier. He looked around, painfully aware of the isolation of the place, concern clearly showing on his face, as he was lead to a room within the interior of the building that was, by the looks of it, once probably used as an office.
Inside the only piece of furniture was a large pine table underneath which were large metal loops strategically screwed securely into the concrete floor.
“Little question,” it was the first time Morton had spoke since they had left London, “where did you get your money from?”
Matt Lazensky looked stunned, “What business is that of yours?” he asked defensively.
“Just interested. Where did it come from? Just answer the question, Matt!”
“How I earn my money is my business so fuck off!” Matt Lazensky realised that his short burst of arrogance was a mistake. No one talked to Morton like that. It did not do to anger this man!
Morton stayed calm never losing eye contact with his guest, “You are a lazy bastard that hasn’t done a days work in years and your missus doesn’t earn enough money for you to buy a toy beemer let alone a real one. How did a lazy piece of shit like you afford a big plasma screen?”
Lazensky`s mouth dropped open as he realised that he had been in his apartment. His first thoughts were that his loud-mouthed Rita must have been bragging because he sure had not said anything, “None of your business!” he wished he felt as brave as he tried to sound.
“Must be, what, five grand lying around the place?” he threw the bundle of notes from his apartment at him.
“What? Listen, arsehole, you’ve got no right to go looking round my place. Who the fuck do you think you are?” For the second time his pride had manifested itself as anger and even as the words came rushing out he wished he had kept quiet.
Morton waited for his little outburst to finish and then started his well practiced mind game. He was not waiting for anything in particular as he did not expect Lazensky to confess but he knew that his silence would work in his favour and heighten Lazensky`s fear.
Thirty seconds ticked by in silence before Lazensky could take it no more, “Look, how Rita earns her money is her business.” Still Morton remained silent as more seconds slowly ticked by. “She’s had some luck on the horses lately,” he rambled on nervously, “even we deserve a bit of luck, Mr. Morton,” he smiled weakly trying to sound friendly and hoping that addressing Morton as mister would make up for his earlier outburst.
Morton could tell he was lying. Lazensky took three small steps backwards keeping a wary eye on Morton as the big enforcer stepped towards him but it was not Morton that he should have been watching.
Working as an unspoken team Willy, the rat catcher, quietly moved behind him and locked his skinny arm around his neck. For his slight size he was surprisingly strong and as Lazensky struggled against his restrainer Morton loomed on front of him and swung a hard punch into his soft, flabby stomach.
Winded and fighting to regain his breath he was half lifted and half thrown onto the table and a strap was quickly passed over his throat. He heard the clicking sound of the ratchet but it was not until he felt the strap pulling tighter that he realised it was being fastened around his throat. Just as it got uncomfortable to breathe they stopped fastening it.
The straps, the type used to secure luggage onto car roof racks, were fed through the loops on the floor and over the table and then pulled tight using the attached ratchet. Another was passed across his knees making it easier to secure each foot with more straps and, finally, another was passed over the struggling Lazensky`s stomach trapping his hands down by his sides. He was now rendered completely immobile.
Morton casually removed his jacket and sniffed it wrinkling his nose in disgust at the smell of the stale tobacco smoke before hanging it on a hook on the back of the door. As he walked back he carefully folded back the shirtsleeves making sure that each fold was even so as to minimize creasing. He stood next to Lazensky`s head looking down at him, “Where did you get the money?” His tone was unnaturally calm.
Lazensky could feel himself shaking with fear even though he was tightly tied down. He had heard the rumours about Morton but up until now they had been just stories. “Rita!” he struggled to say through his chattering teeth.
“And where would your lazy, fat slag of a wife earn that kind of money?”
“Don`t know!” his eyes were firmly fixed on Morton.
Morton watched him carefully as sweat stains began to appear on his shirt. His head rocked violently from side to side as he struggled hopelessly against the restraints.
His eyes showing fear but they also showed something else. He was still lying. Without warning Morton raised himself up t
o his fall height and slammed his fist as hard as he could into the soft, over-fed stomach.
Unable to recoil from the blow his stomach had to absorb the full impact of the punch winding him severely. Morton waited for him to partially recover, saliva leaking from the corner of his mouth, before delivering the next blow in the same place and stepped back nimbly as vomit spewed from the restrained Lazensky, the stench hung in the air, as Lazensky fought desperately to force the foul tasting stomach contents out of his mouth before he choked on it. Coughing violently he forced his watery eyes to focus
“Where did you get the money? Just answer the question and we can all go home!”
Lazensky felt as though he was dying. Just for a moment the searing, burning sensation in his windpipe caused by some of the vomit that had trickled in as he choked made him forget about his situation. He was desperately trying to breathe again and at the same time turning his head trying to spit out any remaining vomit still in his mouth.
He had never been a very fit person and, as a born coward, had always avoided physical violence. His stomach felt as though it was on fire but at least he was able to breathe again. He shook his head, “Rita won it!” He croaked. His throat felt though it was on fire, as he lied desperately trying to protect his stupid wife.
He was inwardly cursing his stupid wife. The money had enabled them to enjoy some of the luxuries they could only have dreamed of before but they always knew that there would be a price to pay if their secret ever got out. Right now he was regretting the day she came home and told him about the safe. He wished, right now, that their jokes about Thanos keeping his porn collection in it was all they found when, several weeks later, Thanos had accidentally left his office drawers unlocked and, being the nosey type, she rifled through them until she came across a small, black book with the combination number in it. Curiosity got the better of her and she opened it.
The months went by with her keeping her secret until approached by a man offering her large sums of money if she would provide information about her boss. The wisest and safest thing to do would have been to tell Thanos immediately but instead greed got the better of them. The consequences if they were found out did not even bear thinking about. A visit from Morton was everyone’s nightmare.
The Qadesh Club Page 11
