Chapter 6
FRANK AND JOE turned toward each other, each checking to see if the other had been hit.
Then they saw who the victim was.
The pistol dropped from Jacques’s hand as he clutched his chest. He fell forward with a startled expression on his face and lay face downward on the floor, motionless. .
Instantly Denise was on her knees beside him. “Filthy beasts!” she screamed at the policeman who seized her.
Meanwhile both Hardys were seized as well, while other cops held pistols on them.
Joe opened his mouth to protest but shut it fast when he remembered that there was no Network standing behind him and Frank. They were on their own, and the evidence identifying them as gun dealers was overwhelming. Both Frank and Joe kept quiet as their arms were jerked behind them and handcuffs were snapped on their wrists, the cold metal pinching their flesh. Then they and Denise were hustled out of the apartment and down the stairs. But before they opened the door to the street, their captors stopped.
“What the - ” Frank exclaimed, as he felt someone behind him slipping something over his head. It was a blindfold.
“Hey, what are you trying to do?” he heard Joe protest. Evidently, Joe was getting the same treatment.
Hands shoved them outside. They heard a door opening, and then they were pushed onto a car seat. The door slammed, a motor roared into life, and they felt the car begin to move.
“Hey, anybody here?” Frank asked.
“I am,” replied Joe, on one side of him.
“Me, too,” said Denise, on the other.
“What kind of cops would blindfold us like this?” asked Frank, turning toward Denise.
“A very special kind, I’m afraid,” Denise whispered, her voice sounding defeated and scared. “They’re from the Surete-French Intelligence. They deal with only the most serious crimes, and they’re allowed to do virtually anything they want in order to combat them.”
“But why the blindfolds?” asked Joe. “Those cops looked too big and tough to be playing kids’ games.”
“This is no game, unfortunately.” Denise struggled to keep her voice from trembling.
“The blindfolds mean we are being taken to one of their secret detention centers. Officially, these centers are not supposed to exist. Just as, officially, law enforcement agents are not supposed to do what they do to prisoners there. But how can prisoners later complain or protest about their treatment when they cannot give the locations of these places that do not officially exist?”
“What do they do to prisoners there-or shouldn’t I ask?” said Joe.
“You shouldn’t ask,” replied Denise. “You will find out soon enough, anyway.” The rest of the ride was passed in silence except for the car radio, which was tuned in to a station devoted to American country-and-western music. One of the cops must have been a fan.
Frank heard Johnny Cash singing about being stuck in Folsom Prison. He decided that at the moment that didn’t sound so bad.
Finally the car stopped. Frank heard Joe say, “Take it easy, man.” Then he was pulled out and shoved roughly across a sidewalk and into a building. A door slammed shut behind him, and the blindfold was yanked away. Frank, Joe, and Denise stood in a room filled with metal office furniture and towering filing cabinets. Six plainclothesmen stood guard. Not one of them was under six feet tall. A small man sat at a metal desk in front of them, a large ledger open on top of it.
Systematically, each of the prisoners was frisked.
The cop frisking Frank grinned when he found the bundles of hundred-dollar bills. He tossed them on the desk. The man on the desk counted the money and made a notation in his ledger.
“Hey, I want a receipt for that,” cried Frank, in the voice of an offended citizen demanding his rights.
“Ah, you are an American,” the man at the desk said, and gave a small, humorless smile. “You are in luck that we speak your language here. A good number of our prisoners come from abroad.”
“I said, I want a receipt. I worked hard for that money,” said Frank. “I just came back from a job in the Arabian desert. Send for my passport if you don’t believe me.”
“So that is your story,” said the desk man. “Of course we will give you a receipt. Armand, give the American gentleman a receipt for his hard-earned cash.”
The cop beside Frank spun him around, then slammed the back of his hand across Frank’s face. Stars erupted in front of Frank’s eyes, and he tasted blood. He shook his head, dazed.
“Any more requests?” asked the man at the desk.
“You can’t get away with this!” exploded Joe. His muscles strained as he tried futilely to free his handcuffed hands. “I demand to call a lawyer. I know we have that right.”
“Ah, you have such a touching faith in your ‘rights,’ ” said the man at the desk.
“Francois, show the American what he has a right to here.”
A moment later, Joe, too, was shaking his head after being viciously backhanded.
“Please, don’t say anything more,” Denise pleaded with them. “These guys are not like the nice cops you see on your television.”
“Take the lady’s advice,” said the man at the desk. “It will save you considerable pain and discomfort-for the moment at least.”
“We get the point,” replied Frank. He moved his tongue around the inside of his mouth and found with relief that no teeth had been loosened.
“Yeah, okay, we’ll be good little boys-for the moment at least,” said Joe, unable to mask his anger.
The cop next to Joe raised his hand to deliver another blow, but the man at the desk shook his head.
“Enough,” he said. “We want the Americans to be in good shape for their interrogation, otherwise they might pass out too quickly. Take them to their cells while we prepare to question them. I hope they will use the time to see reason and to realize how intelligent it would be to spare themselves additional pain.”
Frank, Joe, and Denise were taken from the room and led down a stairway.
“Once, long ago,” one of the cops said, “this used to be a wine cellar. Now we use it to store prisoners-until we pull their corks.”
Frank and Joe were thrust into a windowless cell made of stainless steel. It was ventilated by ducts in the high ceiling.
“We are very proper here. We give men and women separate accommodations,” the cop went on. “But don’t pine away for your lovely companion here,” he added, indicating Denise. “I assure you, you will be seeing one another soon enough. “
As soon as the door slammed shut, Joe opened his mouth to speak. But he stopped when Frank shook his head sharply.
Frank put his mouth close to Joe’s ear and whispered, “This place has to be bugged. It’s probably televised, too. So no talking, just whispering.”
“Right” Joe nodded. He thought for a moment, then whispered. “Any ideas about what to do now?”
Frank looked at him for a moment. “I was about to ask you the same thing. Do you think you can bust us out of here?”
“Oh, sure, if you happen to have some dynamite hidden on you somewhere,” replied Joe sarcastically. The Hardys fell silent.
“Maybe we can tell the cops our story,” Joe said after several minutes. “How we’re really trying to stop Reynard, and - “
“Forget it, Joe,” Frank cut in. “It’s a wild story to begin with, and there’s no one to back us up. You remember what the Gray Man said. On this case, we don’t exist anymore as far as the Network is concerned. From here on in, we’ll have to wing it and hope we’re not riding for a big fall.”
At that moment, the door opened, and the Hardys sprang apart.
The little man who had been behind the desk entered accompanied by two scowling cops.
“I see you have been putting your heads together to consider your situation,” he said. “I hope you have come to your senses and decided to cooperate with our investigation. As an added inducement, I can promise you immunity
from prosecution and a plane ticket out of the country if you reveal what you know about this traffic in illegal weapons.”
“Illegal weapons?” said Frank. “What illegal weapons?”
“We were just paying a social call when you guys came busting in,” said Joe. “You cops have a lot of nerve. I bet you didn’t even have a search warrant. Wait until I see my lawyer.”
The little man gave a mock sigh of sadness. “You Americans have so much to learn about the way we do things here. You think crime is some kind of game. We take it more seriously. I hope for your sakes that you learn quickly. Come, you will now have your first lesson.”
Frank and Joe were led out of their steel cell and pushed roughly down a corridor to another, larger steel room. It contained only one piece of furniture - a chair with metal bands designed to fasten a person’s arms to the armrests. Next to the chair stood a tall man with a huge stomach and a shaven skull. In one corner stood Denise, a cop guarding her. Her handcuffs had been taken off, but she didn’t look as if she was about to make any moves. She was pale and trembled slightly.
“You see, your girlfriend here already knows what this chair is for,” said the little man. “It is quite an ingenious piece of equipment. And very effective. I like to call it our truth machine.”
The man who stood beside the chair flashed an ugly grin. Most of his teeth were made of steel.
“Karl here is the finest operator of the truth machine that we have,” the little man said. The small man’s teeth were all his own, but his smile wasn’t any prettier. “He has been operating it ever since it was made for a little war we had in Algeria, about thirty years ago. Karl was in our Foreign Legion then. We don’t ask what he did before that. The Surete has found considerable use for his skills. But enough talk. I am sure Karl is eager to demonstrate to foreign visitors how his machine works. Which one of you Americans wants to have the first lesson?”
“Me,” said Frank.
“No, me,” said Joe.
“You were the first to speak,” the little man said to-Frank. “So you will be the lucky one.”
Frank’s handcuffs were taken off. He was shoved into the chair, and the metal bands were snapped around his forearms and wrists.
“Henri and Francois, you may leave now,” the little man said. “Remember to close the door tightly behind you.”
After the two cops left, leaving the little man, Karl, and one other cop to take care of the prisoners, the little man explained, “Some of our men don’t enjoy watching the truth machine in operation. In fact, we have even made this room totally soundproof to spare the more delicate feelings among us. The screams can become ear splittingly loud at times.”
Then he said to Karl, “Commencez.”
Karl stopped grinning but continued to smile softly to himself as he set to work. He opened a small kit and took out some long wires, which he ran from electric outlets in the wall to the chair. Then he attached electrodes to the wires and fastened them on points directly above Frank’s eyes and on other parts of his body.
When he had finished, Karl stood with a control switch in his hand, waiting for his next order.
“I assure you, you are in the best of hands,” the little man said. “Karl has never let anyone die of the pain-at least, not yet. But first I will give you one last chance. Will you tell all you know now-or will you find out how much agony you can take?”
“You’re bluffing,” replied Frank, praying that the man was.
“You have made your choice,” said the little man. He raised his hand. “When my hand drops, the lesson begins.”
He waited for one more endless second. Then his hand fell.
Chapter 7
“No! STOP! I’LL talk!” Frank screamed, before Karl had a chance to throw the switch.
Startled, Joe stared at his brother. He hadn’t expected Frank to give in so quickly, though he guessed he couldn’t blame him. Joe thought that he himself might have held out longer, but you never could be sure of something like that. The little man didn’t seem surprised at all. “I am glad to see that you are a sensible young man,” he said.
Karl didn’t seem surprised, either. “You Americans are all soft,” he said with a thick German accent.
“Start talking,” the little man ordered Frank. “Tell everything you know. As soon as you start holding back, or try to lie, we apply the shock.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you everything, everything,” said Frank, with terror in his voice. “Why shouldn’t I? As soon as I start squealing, I’m finished as far as the organization I work for is concerned, anyway. I might as well go all the way.”
“You sound more and more intelligent with every word,” the little man said. He was practically licking his chops. “First, let me out of this chair,” said Frank.
“Ah, but it is such a nice chair in which to sit and chat,” said the little man. Karl nodded his agreement.
“Look, I have to get out of this thing, or else I’m going to be sick.” Frank’s voice was desperate.
“That would be rather unpleasant,” the little man said. “Very well. We will let you out of the chair. But if you don’t start talking right away, back in it you go-and no release then.” “Don’t worry. I’ll tell you everything.” “Karl, let our friend up,” said the little man.
Karl looked cheated, but he obeyed. “Such a pity. I usually enjoy working on Americans,” he said as he released the last steel band that fastened Frank to the chair.
“Not on this American,” cried Frank, as he sent his fist out in a driving blow that caught Karl just above his heavy gut.
The big man doubled over with a loud “Oooof!” Frank leaned out of the chair and delivered a quick chop to the back of the neck.
Frank’s karate teacher would have given a deep bow to the blow. Karl dropped to the floor as if felled by an ax.
Joe didn’t waste time admiring his brother’s skill. He quickly used his own skills, smashing into the little man with a football block that sent the cop sprawling. As soon as the man was on the ground, Joe’s foot landed against his chin in a powerful kick.
Meanwhile, Denise had stopped looking weak and scared with a speed that made it clear it had all been an act. As the cop beside her pulled out his gun to go after Frank and Joe, she grabbed his gun arm and twisted it behind him. A moment later the snub-nosed revolver was in her hand with the barrel pressed against the side of the cop’s head. It all took less than a minute.
“Hey, neat work,” Joe said to Frank. “You had me fooled for a second. I thought for sure you were caving in.”
“I had to make it convincing. I had to wait as long as I could before I did my folding act,” said Frank. “Of course, the closer I got to getting the shock, the easier it was to act scared.”
“It did the trick, anyway,” said Joe. “Now get these cuffs off me, and we’ll get out of here.”
Frank removed a ring of keys from the pocket of the unconscious little man. He had to try several of them before he found a key that snapped open Joe’s handcuffs.
“Bring the cuffs over here,” ordered Denise, who had forced her former guard to lie face-down on the floor. Expertly she handcuffed his hands behind him, then used his belt to tie his ankles together.
“We don’t have to bother gagging him,” she said. “As that little cop so thoughtfully informed us, this room is soundproof. It will take them quite a while to attract attention.”
“Yeah, especially since Karl and the little guy are both out like lights. They look like they’ll stay that way for a long time,” added Joe. “Hey, Frank, you really connected with that monster.”
“I put everything I had into the chop,” said Frank. “I think it would have smashed a brick a foot thick. Maybe I should check to see how the guy is.”
“No time for that,” said Denise. “We have to worry about ourselves. Let’s get out of here.”
She led them from the room, and Frank used one of the keys on the ring to lock the door after t
hey left. Then he and Joe followed Denise down a corridor to another steel door. Denise swung open the door, and they entered.
Frank and Joe froze. Waiting for them was a woman in a police uniform, complete with a pistol butt sticking prominently out of its holster.
But Denise didn’t even raise the gun in her hand. “Boys, meet Marcelle,” she said. “She’s a friend-she works for the same organization I do.”
Frank and Joe exchanged quick looks. The Gray Man’s suspicions had been right. Reynard and Company did have agents within the Surete itself.
“She managed to inform me in my cell that she would be on duty this shift,” said Denise. “Now if you two will turn your eyes away for a moment, Marcelle and I will do a quick striptease.”
Frank and Joe turned around obediently and waited until they heard Denise say, “You can look now.”
Denise modeled the police uniform she was wearing. “Not a bad fit,” she said. “And the style is really quite good. The government got a famous designer to create it when they started admitting a large number of women into the force. “
“Unfortunately, they’ll take the loss out of my salary,” said Marcelle as Denise tied her up securely. “They are not very understanding about things like this.”
“Don’t worry, your bonus from the boss will more than make up for it,” said Denise. “And for this discomfort as well,” she added, gagging Marcelle with a kerchief.
Denise took out her pistol and pointed it at the boys. “Come on,” she said. “I am marching you two crooks out of here.”
“What if someone tries to stop us?” asked Frank.
“This pistol is fully loaded, and I know how to use it,” Denise replied. “But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Shooting a policeman isn’t very smart. It’s the one thing that the law will never forgive under any circumstances.”
The Hardys held their breath as they came to the front desk, but the guards were in the middle of an intense card game. They did little more than glance up as Denise, her gun drawn, herded Frank and Joe out onto the street.
Evil, Inc. Page 4
