Department of Student Loans, Kidnap & Ransom

by Christian Hale

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Executioner should have been particularly unhappy about being back in Los Angeles, and even more displeased about being in Marv’s house in the additional company of the Europe regional manager Tim and the still slimy-looking Rich from Washington. But, if anything, The Executioner felt only clarity as he stepped into Marv’s living room. The Executioner tossed two pre-paid courier bags down on the couch and sat down beside them. No one took much notice, and the conversation began.

  “Well, this is your first day as regional manager for southeast Asia. Congrats. Time for you to start meeting nice, young American women in Jakarta and Manila,” said Marv.

  “Yeah. I need a beer,” replied The Executioner.

  “Rebecca’s in Vietnam visiting her mother. So help yourself.”

  A feeling of numbness came over The Executioner. He glanced at the three men and thought silently: ‘I can do this.’ He knew exactly where Rebecca was.

  Walking into the kitchen, The Executioner concentrated on his breathing. He grabbed a beer out of the fridge – with little intention of actually drinking it all. But his mouth was dry. He needed just one quick drink. Fumbling through the drawers he couldn’t find the bottle opener. Then he spotted a rough substitute.

  As The Executioner walked into the living room, he pried off the bottle cap with the corner of the meat cleaver he had grabbed from the kitchen drawer.

  Bemused, Marv said “Hey champ, the bottle opener is on the table if you want to be a bit more civilized.”

  “I’m not civilized,” stated The Executioner.

  The cap flipped off the bottle and onto the floor. He took one short drink. He took one deep breath. And then he swung the meat cleaver down onto Tim as hard as he could. The blade sank deep into his head. The Executioner immediately switched the beer bottle to his right hand and hurled it at Marv. The bottle grazed Marv’s raised hand and stunned him as it bounced unbroken off of his jaw. The Executioner pulled the meat cleaver from Tim’s head and threw it at Marv. The blunt side of the cleaver struck him on the side of his face and he slumped over, making a strange whimpering noise.

  Rich was frozen. Barely able to speak, he could only say “I…please. I don’t…”

  The Executioner reached down onto the couch and grabbed one of his courier bags. Walking calmly over to Rich he pulled his weapon of choice from the bag: a short piece of iron reinforcement bar – seven-eighths of an inch diameter.

  The first blow came down on Rich’s arms, raised in defense. The bones in his arm left arm took most of the force and shattered. The remaining momentum carried the bar down onto the top of his head – though not enough to knock him unconscious. The Executioner was quick with the next swing of the bar. It came down hard on the side of Rich’s head, knocking him out of his chair and onto the floor. The Executioner moved over quickly and stood above him. Generating as much force as he could, he stamped his foot down repeatedly on the back of Rich’s neck. The Executioner could feel a snap vibrate from Rich’s neck, through his shoe and into his foot. The sound reached his ears a fraction of a second later.

  Marv was next. The Executioner carefully moved over to the dazed and injured Marv, who was still making a soft whimpering cry. He swung his bar onto Marv’s right hand, which was grasping a couch cushion in a desperate attempt to regain equilibrium. The strike crushed Marv’s hand, rendering him helpless. The Executioner then added a few randomly placed hits on Marv’s back.

  The Executioner grabbed the stunned Marv by one of his feet and pulled him into an open area in the living room and thoroughly frisked him for a weapon.

  “I’m not big on guns Marv. But with the caliber of guests you have over, you should probably have had one on you,” said The Executioner, if only to break the brief silence.

  “Marv, can you answer me? You understand what I’m saying?”

  “Uh huh,” blurted Marv desperately.

  “OK, Marv, you do anything stupid and I kill you.”

  The Executioner again maneuvered Marv by the foot and dragged him across the room. With his spare hand he grabbed his two courier bags and tucked them under his arm. He pulled Marv past the kitchen, down the hall and into his office.

  Marv leaned back on his elbows and asked “What…. What do you….?”

  “I want you to open your safe Marv. This is an old school safe, so don’t try to tell me it’s on a time lock. It’s a simple combo safe. Open it.”

  “The numbers. I’m….it’s just…”

  “Marv, I’ll give you a couple of minutes to get your brain back in working order. But if you can’t get that safe open within two minutes, I will kill you.”

  Marv nodded quickly and, leaning over towards the safe, struggled to his knees.

  “The big bag is for your documents. All of them, Marv. And the smaller bag is for however much cash you are dumb enough to keep in there.”