He came closer with the menacing knife and spit out, “Before I cut you up big shot, you’re gonna watch me butcher your woman.” The words came out of his mouth slowly, and I knew he meant every word of it. A jerk of his head sent the two goons into the other room to untie Lola. Dragon came closer, and teasingly wiped the sharp edge of the blade down my cheek.
It was only him and me in the room. If I was gonna, make my move I had to make it now. My hands were tied behind my back. I wiggled my fingers under my coat, felt the Beretta, and slipped it into my palm. A moan from Lola came from the other room, and Dragon turned his head for a split second. That was a split second too long for him. I swiveled my arms to my hip, and pointed it the .25 at his gut. He turned back just in time to see me pull the trigger. The shot rang out and Dragon doubled over, and then dropped to the floor. His face showed both surprise and disdain.
At the sound of the shot, the two thugs came running from the other room. I turned the little Beretta on them, and fired. When I finished the clip off, both men were on the ground. One had a hole the size of a pea through the bridge of his nose. The slug must have embedded in his brain for there was no exit hole. The other got it in the neck. It appeared the bullet had pierced his spine. He laid there with his mouth wide open, filling with blood. I didn’t realize I was such a good shot, especially from behind my back.
I hustled over to Dragon’s body, and picked the knife from his hand. He was still alive, and coming around. My hands wrestled with the blade until it parted the bounds around my wrists. I put the knife back to my pocket, and gripped my Beretta. Dragon’s hand reached for the hole in his belly, wincing in pain as he touched it. It was my turn to smile now. I casually said, “There’s been a slight changed in plans Dragon. Instead of you cutting up Lola and me, she’s gonna cut you up. You could use a facelift anyway.”
He didn’t think that was too funny.
I grabbed a rope, and told him to get on his feet. He unwillingly did, and spit curses at me. He took his time at first, but sped up when I whipped the rope across his face. Bright red welts immediately appeared.
A workbench was in the corner of the barn. It was about six feet long, and three feet wide. Oh yes, it would make a good carving table. My Beretta pushed his back toward it. I yelled, “Lay down face up, and I’ll teach you how to become a surgeon.” There wasn’t much he could do, so he rolled on top of long wooden bench. I tied his chest, hands, and feet to it. I noticed his shoes. They were an ugly maroon color. Vaguely, I remembered seeing those shoes before, but couldn’t place where. For some reason it seemed important but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
After satisfying myself with my Boy Scout knotting ability I stumbled over to the small room Lola was in. She was lying on the ground, her hands, and feet now free. Lola recognized me, struggled to get up, and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. She was oozing with relief over my saving her, yet she hurt badly from the trauma these degenerates had put on her. I picked up her torn garments that were heaped in a pile on top of some mildewed hay. They didn’t even let her undress. The sons of bitches ripped the clothes right off her. I picked up Lola’s coat, and wrapped it over her scratched and bruised body.
As we walked out of her room of torture, she saw the two goons on the floor. She spit on each of them as she passed. Then her eyes fell upon Dragon, tied helplessly on the table. A small circle of blood surrounded the hole in his shirt. A black and blue mark had risen on his face from where I had slashed him with the rope.
I told my baby to take a seat as I pulled out the knife and said, “Ya know Johnny boy, nobody has ever caused me that much grief and trouble as you. You should never have laid a hand on my woman. You’re gonna die now Dragon. You’re gonna go slow…very, very slow. You’ll know what torture means by the time I’m finished with you.”
I depressed the button on the knife, and the shiny blade swished to open position. “Hey Johnny boy, did you know I was a surgeon? That’s right, I’m gonna operate, and take that nasty bullet out of your gut.”
He looked at me in disbelief. I laid the tips of the cutlery into the hole, and moved it in and out like a saw. A bloodcurdling scream echoed throughout the barn. Lola sat watching my moves. Her normally soft heart had hardened from the traumatic suffering she had just been put through. She had hate in her eyes.
The hole became larger and larger. It wasn’t so hard to be a surgeon. The wound was big enough now so I could stick a couple of fingers into it. The tip of my fingers dove in, and groped through the flesh and slimy parts of his anatomy. I finally found the piece of lead, and pulled it out.
Dragon fainted momentarily from pain, or loss of blood, or something. I wanted him awake. A couple of pats on his cheeks got him to come around. I showed him the bullet and said, “Here it is. Don’t worry you’ll be back on your feet in a couple of days.” After that, I laughed in his face. It was evident he was in poor humor since he didn’t laugh.
There was one more thing I wanted to do to him. Dragon was moaning in pain. I leaned over his head and quietly said, “Who’s paying you Johnny? Who’s running this operation?” All I heard between his sobs and moans were, “I don’t know, I don’t know.” I was getting short tempered. Every time I looked at Lola’s marred face hate flashed in front of my eyes. Again, I asked, “Who are you working for?” He kept babbling like a baby and repeated, “I don’t know, I don’t know.”
My hand reached for Lola, and I pulled her to the table. This was it. I couldn’t stand it anymore. My hands groped around his belt buckle, and with a yank, I pulled his pants down to his knees. I laid the edge of my blade against his manhood, and lightly carved shallow grooves with each stroke. He looked at me, and his eyes pleaded for mercy. Lola yelled out, “Mike, don’t. Let me.” Wow, I didn’t expect to hear that coming out of Lola’s mouth, but considering what she had just been through, I sure understood it.
I looked at Dragon and said, “If you don’t want to lose this piece of useless flesh, you had better do some fast talking. I can stop myself. But Lola? I don’t know. You tell me. How long do you think you’ll have that little pecker if I hand my blade to Lola? Talk now or I hand her the blade!”
He couldn’t talk fast enough. Words banged into each other as they tried to get out of his mouth. ”I got my orders from a box at the P-P-P-Post-Office. The same with the payments. B-B-B-Believe me Murdock. It’s the truth.”
His eyes were pleading for me to put the knife away. His chest rose and depressed in large swells. I wasn’t sure if I believed what he said, but that still didn’t erase out what he had done to Lola. I looked at his distorted face, then at Lola. She had two cuts on her cheeks, and they would probably leave scars. Such a beautiful face now with two marks.
I saw red. A red that meant torture. My hand tightened on the knife, and it slashed across his shaft. I couldn’t help doing it. A shrill scream sounded throughout the dimly lit barn. He let out a blood-curdling scream that even scared me. It pierced the air with the sound of excruciating agony. Dragon’s body stiffened, and his eyes opened wide. The screaming stopped, his body went limp, and his eyes closed slowly. I threw the rubbery snakelike piece of flesh into the corner of the barn. I looked down to where it once joined his body. Blood bubbled from its round base. Every time his heart beat, a spurt of dark red blood pumped out of both his groin, and his stomach. I turned to Lola. She had a look of satisfaction on her face.
I turned back to Dragon. The rich red fluid that was spurting had stopped. His heart had quit. I didn’t want him to die yet. I had to find out who Mr. Big was, and Dragon had the piece to the puzzle. Frantically, but hopelessly, I pounded on his chest trying to restart the beat of his heart. Finally, after caving in his chest, I realized that it was too late.
Why did I go so far? I kicked the table in disgust. A lot of information was now irretrievable because Dragon was dead. I sat on a box next to Lola, a
nd looked at the mutilated corpse before me. Mr. Big would still be able to operate unless I came up with another lead. Dragon had the answer. If only I had been a little less eager to do him in.
But something in my head pounded away. That key was trying to bang its way out of my memory storage, and unlock the big question, “Who is the man behind this operation?” I knew that if I found that clue I would have the puzzle solved. My brain raced through the last few days. Dennis gets killed, Krasinski gets killed, Bankoff gets killed, and the big effort was made to kill me. I went over every move I had made during the week. I killed the mug in front of the Red Hat, the three punks at the office, Jaguar John, and these guys today. Nothing led to an answer about Mr. Big.
The sound of the barn door opening reached my ears. I grabbed Lola, pulled her to the ground, and trained my eyes to the door. The wooden portal opened, and a huge man with a bloody face took its place. It was Matt. His .38 was in his hand, and he looked like he would kill the first person who looked at him crooked. I yelled out, “Matt, over here.” He looked at the two bodies on the floor, and then at Dragon’s. A smirk formed on his puss. His opening words were, “What’s the matter? Didn’t you like this guy?”
I smiled, pulled out my handkerchief, and handed it to him so he could wipe the blood off his face. A shallow wound creased the upper left side of his forehead. It looked like a bullet had just missed saying hello to his brain. Matt spoke again, “It looks like I passed out during all this action. Did I miss a good show?” He looked at Dragon’s corpse again and said, “Mike I could see the bullet hole in his stomach, the slash on his face, and the caved-in chest, but what’s the story on his…uh, missing member?”
I said, “Don’t ask! I’ll glue it back before the cops get here.” I didn’t get any laughs from that one.
Matt sat down on the box, and applied pressure to his head wound as I leaned back against the wall.
My mind was still trying to find that clue. It seemed to be one jump away from me. I was so close yet so far from knowing the answer to this whole deal. I could almost reach out and grab it.
I looked down at Matt who was still pressing the handkerchief to his head. His tongue ran over his lips and he mumbled, “I could sure use a drink right now.”
A light bulb in my brain lit up. What he had said drew back the curtain hiding the clue. Yes, it was clear now. How could I have been so stupid? Cupping Lola’s face in my hands, I gently kissed her bruised and battered face saying, “I’ve got to finish this.” I told Matt to stay here, and take care of Lola. I raced out of the barn with Matt chasing me yelling, “What the hell is going on? You can’t do this. Come back here.”
I hopped into the car pressing the gas to the floor. The wheels spewed dust and pebbles behind me. As I drove away Matt angrily screamed, “Don’t forget to tell somebody we are here, you idiot.”
I got onto the main drag, and pumped the speedometer to ninety.
It was so very clear now. The whole picture! Everything! There was another person who was going to die tonight.
He wasn’t going to live another hour if I could help it. As I drove, I thought of how I was going to kill him. All that came into my head was Kill…Kill…Kill!
* * *
CH 17 Revenge…Death in the Bronx.