The Price of Disrespect (Gray Spear Society Book 6) (27 page)

"Did you have fun making that mess, dear?" Odelia said.

"Very much," Smythe said. "Come on."

They went deep into a tunnel where a bend hid them from view. Everybody got their guns out.

"Practice being silent," Smythe whispered. "Take slow, smooth breaths. Don't move at all. Be as still as a stone."

"I'll try," Tawni said.

After about ten minutes, she heard metal clanging as somebody climbed down the ladder.

"Damn!" a male voice said. "What happened here?"

"They chopped out the control module!" another man said.

"Why the fuck would anybody do that?"

"Wait a sec. Check the serial number. That's one of the nonsect units."

There was a long pause. "They're not paying me enough for this shit," the first man said. "Let's get the hell out of here."

"Me, first."

Smythe rushed forward with his gun and said, "Not so fast, gentlemen."

Tawni and Odelia followed him.

Two men stood in the chamber with very surprised expressions. One was African-American and the other was Hispanic. They wore green uniforms with the words "Clear Path Cable and Internet" printed on them. Plastic badges were clipped to their breast pockets.

Holding her gun firmly, Tawni approached the men. The badges showed the names Jim and Pablo. She had an overwhelming urge to punch them in the face.

"Stay back!" Smythe ordered. "Let me handle this."

Reluctantly, she backed off.

"I have questions," he told the two men. "You will provide answers. If you don't cooperate, you'll suffer. Do you understand?"

Pablo bit his lip. "What do you want?"

"What exactly is a 'nonsect' unit?"

Pablo and Jim glanced fearfully at each other.

"Well?" Smythe said.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Pablo said.

"I'll give you one more chance to cooperate nicely. The amplifier was generating a carrier wave that is definitely not part of the regular television programming. Tell me about it."

Jim shrugged innocently.

Smythe sighed. He took a small container of pills from his pocket and gave it to Jim. "I want each of you to swallow one pill."

"No way," Pablo said.

"It will just put you to sleep. If you don't take the pill willingly, I'll break your jaw and ram it down your throat." Smythe narrowed his eyes.

Jim just looked at the container.

Smythe slammed his elbow into Jim's face. He collapsed to the floor, twitched once, and lay still. His jaw was obviously broken.

Tawni grinned. Being a Spear definitely had its satisfying moments.

"It appears Jim is unconscious," Smythe said casually. "I guess he won't need the pill. What about you?" He handed the container to Pablo.

Pablo quickly popped one of the pills. After a minute, his eyes began to droop. He sat down, slumped over, and went to sleep.

Smythe made a call on his phone. "It's me, sir. We have two prisoners ready for interrogation."

Tawni looked down at the unconscious men. She expected they were about to have a very bad night.

Chapter Eleven

A ringing sound woke Roger Gains. It was coming from his office. He turned on the light in his white bedroom and hurried to an adjacent room. There was a long row of white phones on his white desk, all for different purposes, and the one at the end was jingling. That meant trouble was calling.

He ran over to grab the phone. "What's wrong?"

"This is the Handyman, sir. We have a problem on the west side. One of our generators was wrecked, and the control module was ripped out."

"What? I thought those things are built to kill anybody who touches them."

"Yes," the Handyman said. "It was an expert job. That's not all. Two technicians were sent to investigate the service outage, and they disappeared. I'm assuming they were captured."

"Do they know anything?"

"Not much, but I'm sure they won't talk anyway. They know what would happen to them."

Gains tapped his foot on the perfectly clean, white tiled floor. He had one piece of art on the wall: a white canvas in a white frame.

"I looked around the scene," the Handyman said. "Whoever stole the control module left no evidence behind. They didn't touch any other equipment, either. They knew exactly what to take and how to take it."

"Damn! We might have a mole inside our organization."

"That was my first thought when I saw the damage."

"Check the other generators," Gains ordered.

"That will take me all night."

"You have other plans?" Gains said angrily. "Considering what I've done for you, I don't expect to hear complaints. I'll start making calls in the morning. I'll get to the bottom of this, one way or another. You have anything else?"

"No, sir. Good night." The Handyman hung up.

* * *

Tawni rubbed her arms in the cool air. She didn't know what time it was, but a very late night was bleeding into a very early morning. She was exhausted. The short naps she had taken during the day were the only reason she was still standing.

Aaron and all of his
legionnaires
were in a patch of forest well to the south of Chicago. This was farm country, but Tawni didn't see any farms. The only light came from the moon and the stars. A few insects were chirping, but otherwise, it was very quiet.

Jim and Pablo were hanging upside-down above the weeds. They were attached to a thick tree branch by a rope. More ropes bound their arms and legs so all they could do was squirm helplessly in the air. They reminded Tawni of caterpillars in cocoons.

Smythe and Odelia were holding each other some distance away, and their faces showed distaste. Norbert was closer to the action and obviously more eager to participate. Wesley just stood with his arms crossed, and his expression was blank. Tawni wondered if the boy had witnessed other torture sessions.

Aaron stood directly in front of the captives. "This is your last chance to talk before this interrogation gets ugly," He pointed to a folding table near at hand. It was covered with odd items, mostly hand tools. "Tell me everything you know."

Jim and Pablo struggled silently to free themselves. Smythe had healed Jim's jaw so the man could talk if he chose to. He didn't.

"Then I'll start with Jim." Aaron picked up a large plastic jug from the table. "This is called Habanero Death Trap. The label claims it's a food product, but I think it's more like a chemical weapon. Half a million Scoville heat units. I believe that's a lot. You'll have to tell me because I don't want to taste this stuff." He gestured for Tawni and Norbert to come help.

Norbert held Jim steady. Tawni was given the hot sauce to hold.

Aaron grabbed a rubber bag and held it open. "Pour in a few cups."

She unscrewed the cap, and the smell immediately made her eyes water. The hot sauce was flat out nasty. She poured about two cups of the dark brown liquid into the bag.

"Now get a piece of rope," he said. "After I put the bag over his head, tie the rope around his neck. Make it tight so the bag can't slip off."

She grimaced in horror.

"Can you do this?" he said with a stern look.

She shuddered. "Yes, sir."

She put the bottle down and took a long, thin piece of rope from the table. Jim started to wiggle and yell for help. Norbert struggled to hold him still. With a swift move, Aaron pulled the rubber bag over Jim's inverted head, and it fit snugly. The yells turned to hysterical screams of pain. Tawni quickly wrapped the rope around his neck and tied it tightly. Everybody backed off.

Jim couldn't scream anymore because he couldn't breathe. Instead, he thrashed violently. Tawni couldn't imagine the nightmare of agony, darkness, and suffocation he was experiencing.

Aaron checked his watch. "How long do you think?"

"I wouldn't go more than a minute, sir," Smythe replied. "We don't want him to pass out."

"That sounds right to me."

Aaron tapped his foot. He showed little interest in Jim's frantic struggles. "I should've brought two bags. We could've done both at the same time."

"Forcing one to watch the other suffer is an effective technique," Smythe said.

"That's true, and we're not in a huge hurry."

Tawni couldn't believe how calm and clinical they were. Jim was experiencing diabolical torment. Aaron and Smythe were talking about it like they were fixing a leaky faucet.

She looked over at Pablo. His eyes were wide with horror, and his desperate efforts to escape were making him gasp.

"That's a minute," Aaron said.

He untied the rope and pulled off the bag. Jim took a deep, ragged breath. Then he screamed in a way Tawni had never heard a man scream. Hot sauce completely covered his head. Thick, brown liquid was packed in his nose and ears, and his eyes remained tightly shut.

"Wipe it off!" Jim screeched. "Wipe it off!"

"Sorry," Aaron said. "We didn't bring any paper towels. Pablo, you're next."

Pablo tried to pull away. "No! They'll kill us if we talk! Those guys play rough!"

"I play rougher."

Aaron, Norbert, and Tawni repeated the bag procedure on Pablo. She really hated the smell of the hot sauce. She couldn't understand why anybody would put it on food.

While Pablo was silently struggling, Aaron went back to Jim. "Are you feeling more cooperative now?"

Jim was moaning. Tawni expected the sauce was still burning like crazy. Part of her was appalled, but another part was impressed by the creative torture technique.

"No?" Aaron said. "Not yet?"

After a minute, he pulled the bag off of Pablo. The man was in too much pain at first to do anything but inhale and scream.

Tawni poured more sauce into the bag, and it was put back on Jim's head.

Aaron faced Pablo and said, "You want to talk now? I have a minute to listen."

"We're just contractors," Pablo gasped, "paid to do a job. We don't know anything!"

"I bet that's not quite true. You must know something."

Pablo clamped his mouth shut.

The bag was removed from Jim. Tawni wasn't an expert, but she could tell the second treatment hadn't been as effective as the first. Jim's horrific shrieks of pain didn't have the same passion as before.

Pablo's head went back in the bag.

Aaron went over to the table and examined the implements available to him. "Jim, we both know you're going to break eventually. Just give me a name."

Jim blew hot sauce out of his nose. "You want a name? Fuck it! Why not? Tom Quezon."

Aaron looked at Tawni. "Call headquarters. Check it out."

She took out her phone and called Bethany. Despite the odd hour of the night, she answered immediately. Tawni guessed she was expecting a call.

"What do you need, ma'am?" Bethany said.

"We have a name. Tom Quezon."

Tawni heard typing in the background.

In the meantime, Aaron took the bag off of Pablo and let it fall to the ground. Pablo gasped for air, and when he caught his breath, he moaned loudly. Hot sauce was packed into every crevice in his face. His eyes were pressed shut.

"That's not a good name," Bethany said.

"How do you know?" Tawni said.

"Profile matching. Do you want me to explain my methodology to you?"

"Not now. I trust you. Thanks."

Tawni put away her phone and shook her head.

Aaron picked up a battery powered rotary sander. He walked over to Jim and said, "I hate it when people lie to me. It wastes my time."

"What are you doing?" Jim said fearfully. His eyes were still closed.

Aaron ripped open Jim's shirt. Aaron cranked the sander to maximum speed and applied it to Jim's chest. The man thrashed in a futile effort to escape. Norbert ran over to hold him still while Aaron worked. Very quickly, Jim's chest became a bloody mess.

Aaron put down the sander and picked up the jug of hot sauce. "Are you ready to talk? It will keep getting worse until you do."

Jim opened his mouth. He was thinking about it.

"Not quick enough." Aaron poured hot sauce onto Jim's wounded chest.

Jim's entire body clenched. He clearly wanted to scream but couldn't inhale. Finally, he let out a yell of anguish that rattled Tawni. She expected it was how damned souls sounded in Hell. She actually felt bad for him.

She was having an odd reaction to the extreme violence. The civilized woman in her was appalled. Good people didn't do such things. However, the Spear in her knew this was the right way to accomplish a mission. Information needed to be extracted quickly because thousands if not millions of lives were at stake. The usual rules didn't apply. Aaron was giving her a lesson she would never forget.

He picked up the sander and made it buzz. "Your turn." He walked over to Pablo.

"No!" Pablo said. "For God's sake, don't!"

"For God's sake, I will."

"I'll tell you everything."

"I'm listening," Aaron said.

"They're called the Nonsectarians. They're anarchists. They have some kind of connection to Clear Path Cable."

"How many carrier wave generators are out there?"

"Carrier what?" Pablo turned his head with his eyes still closed.

"The 'nonsect' units," Aaron said.

"Dozens. They're all over the city. Our orders are to never touch them. If they break, we call a specialist, and he fixes them. We're paid extra to keep quiet, and if people talk, they disappear."

"Did you know those things are causing the riots? The Nonsectarians are destroying Chicago."

Pablo was quiet for a moment. "I didn't know."

"Who is this specialist?"

"I don't know his real name. He's just called the Handyman. I've never seen him. All I have is the extension number of his phone. 8311."

Aaron nodded to Tawni. "Call it in."

She dialed Bethany. "I have a company extension number. 8311."

"Let me check," Bethany said.

Tawni noticed Wesley standing in the shadows with a bored expression. The kid wasn't freaked out at all. If anything, Tawni was more upset than he was.

"This is interesting," Bethany said.

"What?" Tawni said.