Taken

Dead End

   I lean on the table, my hands curling around the edges, fingernails digging into the wood. Raffael flinches and leans away, and I smile at him coldly. Behind me Josh paces, his gun in his hands which are pressed to his head. It needs to be done, he knows that, just like I know how much he hates doing it. In the back corner of the room, Sheriff Cormier stands with his arms crossed, expression blank. I still can't figure him out, why he wants to help at all. It goes against everything he's supposed to stand for and he would be fired if the department ever found out. Yet he's continued on with us, through everything we've been through. The gas station in Kansas, the shopping outlet in Dallas. He's kept going. He could lose his job and be sent to prison, he knows that and yet he still helps, not blinking at eye at every law we break along the way. Across from me, Raffael whimpers and my attention snaps back to the task at hand. Im finding it harder to concentrate on these little meetings, Im finding it harder to concentrate on anything these days. I crack my knuckles and open the briefcase on the table. I know once he sees what's inside he'll  cave and tell me what he knows, they almost always do. Not that he knows much at all, he's not even a part of the Ring, he's just a lowlife, done business with their lowest members a few times. But it doesn't matter, he's guilty by association, and everyone has to pay. He cranes his neck to see my briefcase. The dim fluorescent lighting of the pub basement shines off the steel of the tools, making them glint wickedly. Raffaele's lip began to quiver as I pull out my leather gloves. He is a weak, insignificant little man. But he will serve as a message to the others. Im done with their bullshit, I want Micheal back and Im growing more and more impatient each day. I pull the gloves on my hands and flex my fingers.I have worn them more times than I can count now. Josh sighs and paces harder, shaking his head.I try to ignore him and focus on our guest.
  "Please, please! I beg of you!" His voice is an octave higher than usual and with his heavy spanish accent its almost comical sounding, at this point I might even laugh, if I thought it wouldn't make me look insane in front of my comrades. I can see the fear shining in Raffael's eyes as he fights back tears. I smile at him to conceal the laughter that almost bubbled out of me, and walk around the table towards him, all the while staring him in the eye.
"Tell me what you know and we free you, that's all there is to it. Simple really, don't you agree?" I glance back at the sheriff, who only grunts in reply.
  "I told you before I know nothing about your brothers kidnapping, all I know is that once a week I meet with Reggie and he sells me drugs for my buyers and I give him money. That's it nothing else now please!" His voice shakes.I narrow my eyes at him.
  "What kind of drugs?" He sniffs and looks down. Quicker than a snake,I lash out and punch him in the face. He cries out and puts a hand to his cheek, where a nice welt is already forming. He glares at me, his eyes full of pain. He must hate this, where he's from he's probably feared, maybe even respected, a dangerous drug dealer and previous felon. But now he's reduced to a cowering quivering idiot, scared of a skinny eighteen year old girl.
  "Blow, heroine, some prescription stuff, some other stuff I don't know exactly it changes every week, I get new buyers I need new merchandise." I get ready to hit him again and he flinches. "That's all I swear! I don't know what goes on in the Ring, all I know is they sell me drugs and I sell them to clients." I don't give a damn about his drug deals, I lean towards him slowly, and calmly ask him what I really care about.
  "You ever sold weapons, Raffael? Illegal stuff, heavy duty." He flinches again when I say his name, but shakes his head vigorously.
  "No, No! I swear!" I pull out a set of brass knuckles with blunt spikes and slip them over my gloves. He's crying now, begging and pleading even praying in Spanish. Its a bit pathetic really, I've barely even hit him.
  "Ok! Ok once, I sold weapons once. It was a while ago, about a year. Please I really don't rememb-" I punch him again, and the brass connects with his cheek bone and cracks it. He cries out in  pain and screams. The spikes left a gauge and blood begins to stream down his face. I'm worried for a second that someone upstairs will hear his yells.
  "Shut your mouth!" I hiss, then I put my face close to his. Im impatient and practically spitting out the words "Now, do you remember anything about a Remington 700 SPS bolt action?" I hiss. Raffael shakes his head but I can see in his eyes there's something he's not telling me, so I go back to my tools and pull out a small knife, no bigger than my thumb. Raffael's whole body shakes.
  "Yes!" He sobs, "Yes, I sold one once, some guy asked specifically for it and the Ring provided. His name was Tyson Bails. When I asked why he needed it he said he was bringing it to some guys he knew that ordered it, I-I think they called themselves Clover, or something I'm-I'm not sure, please that's all I know!" I glance at Josh, the name Clover is familiar to us, we've been trying to work out if it could possibly be another kidnapping ring working with the Ring, or a gang that was just in need of a high power rifle. But we haven't heard of a Tyson Bails, probably a nobody but I'm not sure. I ask Raffael my next big question.
  "Do you know if the Ring and Clover are related in anyway?" He shakes his head, tears dripping down his face. My heart sinks, this has all just been another waste of time, a dead end. But this dead end has become a loose end, one that needs to be taken care of. I nod at Josh and he sighs and starts up the cellar stairs. I watch his retreating figure, feeling guilty as always for putting him through this. I glance over to the Sheriff who uncrosses his arms and walks over.
  "Thank you, Raffael, so sorry for all the troubles we caused you. My friend here will release you and drive you home, blindfolded bound and gagged, of course." Raffael sinks into his chair with relief, tears dripping down his face and mixing with the blood streaming down his cheek. I nod to the sheriff, then start up the cellar stairs after Josh, and into the quiet pub. It's a Sunday afternoon and there isn't a football game, so there's almost no one here so I guess there was no reason to be worried about someone hearing the screams. The people that are here are sitting at the dirty bar, so absorbed in their stale beer or passed out, that they don't seem to notice when a muffled gunshot goes off from the basement. The owner of the bar stands stiffly at the door. An old greedy little man who I had the displeasure of talking to before coming here. I hand him an envelope, inside it is five thousand dollars, not nearly as much as we would have offered or have offered, but I'm willing to bet he would have let us use the basement for fifty. He takes it and nods. I walk across the uneven floorboards and exit the pub, stepping out into the streets of Santa Monica. Moments later the sheriff walks out, taking off his jacket which is covered in blood.
  "Pisser sprayed blood everywhere, you owe me for the dry cleaning bill Dani."I roll my eyes as we walk over to Josh who stands leaning against a building, looking angry.
  "Did we really have to kill him? He didn't know anything useful he wasn't even a part of Michael's kidnapping." I flinch when he says Michael's name and he mumbles apologetically. I can tell he's pissed but we have work to do.
  "Guilty by association, see if you can find this Tyson guy he mentioned, I have a feeling he's in the area, sounds like nothing just a local scumbag who knows other scumbags but lets just be sure." Josh pushes off the wall and heads towards the van without a word, I watch him as he goes, that same guilty hollow feeling in my chest. Cormier opens the door and flourishes his hand with a mock politeness and I climb in. I start the van up and we head off, away from the pub, where another dead end lays dead.