My second in command emerged from the cab with a folding chair, ropes and our offender in tow. Vasil dropped the man and positioned the chair over the train tracks, I lit a cigarette and looked up at the sky.
It was past midnight in Chicago, the moon was bright, cradling space in its iridescent crest. The stars were out too, but just a few here and there.
It was nothing like Romania here in America.
Yet, duty calls.
I glance back at Vasil and see he has secured the man the chair and the offender is waking up.
I pat his hairy cheek impatient, after I get the information I need from him, I won't need him , I'll be through with him and I am very ready to have him off my hands.
Vasil senses my eagerness and after I nod my approval to his unspoken words, he kicks the chair back so the man lays on his back on the tracks and is jolted awake.
Vasil stuffs left over rope in the man's mouth to muffle his imminent screaming, right now he's dazed ,having just woke up from being drugged.
He turns his head, every which way, his black eyes wide with fear, panic and pain as he glances at Vasil and I.
I lean over and puff smoke out in his face earning an afraid cry.
"It's useless, the way the dead-man squirms." I mutter to the offender and stand straight ,looking down at him.
"Vasil." I point to that man's mouth and Vasil removes the rope.
"Scream, I dare you."
The man stays quiet.
I sigh into the night air, stale with silence and inactivity ,then begin whistling, I refuse to waste my breath by speaking to him, the man knows what we want.
An incoming train blows it's horn, far away in the distance.
"His new name is Peter Welx, he lives in New York City in some ritzy hotel with a little weird boy. The boy knows everything about him and will tell you everything you want to know for a price."
"Address."
"I don't know."
I touch the tracks with my foot, "I can feel the train...."
"I don't know the exact address, but it's in lower Manhattan. Near a jewelry story called Rory's. Its a tall glass building. "
"What's your name again? "
He hesitates, readying himself to lie, Vasil kicks his chair and he catches himself. "Soarin."
"I was thinking of letting you live in fear ,rather than killing you here on these tracks, seeing as you were so ready to lie to me ,though, I'll let you pray to whoever you believe in that I change my mind back to the original plan."
"No! I can't die, I have two children, a son and a daughter, and another on the way, I'm going to be a grandpa in just two months! You can't do this ... have mercy on my soul !"
I nod and take a drag of my cigarette, stepping back as the heavy, red faced train descends, blowing its horn again.
"PLEASE ! MY GRANDSO-"
His bones make a sickening crackling sound as they burst under the weight of the freight train. Even at this time of night, in this deep of darkness ,you see the glistening of the man's blood as it trickles from his detached feet.
After the train passes, Vasil picks up Soarin's discarded foot and bags it, while I find the gallon of gasoline we bought just for this occasion.
After soaking Soarin with the gas, Vasil throws a lit match at the man's bloody, snarled body.
It catches fire quickly and ,for a moment or so ,we watch the bright oranges and reds lick the navy blue night sky.
"Let it be."
Vasil and I walk back to the car, he gets in the driver's side and I get in behind him.
We drive off without another look back.
"We're headed to New York."
YOU ARE READING
Dirty Money ,Pretty Boy (intersexXman ) VERY SLOW UPDATES
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