“I know I shouldn’t ask, but what did your Dad mean when he said ‘Sure they will’?”
Jean giggled, clutching Sonny’s arm, and leaning into him. “It means when he researches the film company you suggested he find tied to Cameron, he’ll find the most likely tool, and question him or her. They’ll tell him where he can find the boy.”
“I’m beginning to see a cold dark picture forming of that explanation.”
Jean shrugged. “We’re Marines, and we’re both killers. Compared to Dad though, we’re what they call Snow Whites. Don’t worry about that part. The Unholy Trio doesn’t have any Snow Whites amongst them. Tyson… where are you staying tonight?”
“At my apartment… with you I pray to God.”
“I believe I can answer that prayer for him.”
*
The two men walked out of their studio, arguing about the lateness of the hour, their project timetable, and how they could blame someone else for it. When they reached their vehicle in the underground parking garage, they continued the rant until the sliding door opened on the van next to them. Three masked figures surrounded them, one with a hideous clown mask. One with a black mask aimed a large barreled automatic at them before addressing them in a synthesized voice.
“Get in the van, or I shoot your dicks off. Want a demo?”
The two men scrambled into the van. A driver separated from them by a black curtain drove away while they were restrained with plastic ties and duct tape over their mouths until they exited the parking garage. The van stayed in motion for fifteen minutes before slowing to a stop, and its hybrid engine shut off. The men’s duct tape gags were removed.
“You…you’re the Unholy Trio! We…we’re just movie guys, El Muerto!”
“I’m glad you know of us. Then you also know what we’re capable of when we don’t get what we want,” Nick said. “I know you did an extortion movie for Douglas Cameron with Clarice Salvatore drugged with a young teenage boy. I want to know where that boy is. My associate, Payaso, will then film you two weasels taking us through the whole operation from when Cameron asked for it to be done, all the way through to its blackmailing end.”
Silence. Terrified silence, but silence.
“Uh oh. What we have here is a failure to communicate. El Kabong, my brother, flip a coin to see which one of these gentlemen gets to have his intestines washed in bleach so his friend can be motivated.” By the time Nick got his scalpel out, and John flipped the coin, the two men were screaming to talk.
“Silence! Usually I go ahead with the demo once I get stone-walled. I’ll give you two one more chance. Payaso will film you two. Leave nothing out. If you make us happy I will take you both back to the parking garage. If my brother, El Kabong, doesn’t receive confirmation of the boy’s whereabouts, the coin flip will be for real and unstoppable. I have minions ready to do my bidding. We know the boy is being held locally in DC if he is still alive. I hope for your sakes he is alive.”
“He is, Muerto! He is!”
“Good. Begin. As I stated, leave out nothing.”
*
Two huge black masked figures, and a smaller slender one entered the DC crack-house with silent care. They looked around the inside pit of hell, filled with the lost, the desperate, and the damned. The two guards who had been sleeping on chairs at the entrance woke and reached for their weapons. In seconds, they were thrown to the floor, gagged and restrained by the two larger figures. Jean kept watch with weapon at the ready.
“What now, Viper?”
“Dad would close his eyes, pretend he was the old ‘Mentalist’, and lead us straight to the kid. This place is activating my barf reflex. When I get queasy, I get violent. I say turn on all the lights, and start beating our way to the kid and shoot anything with a weapon. That would get me yelled at when we got back. Watch our six, Cracker, while Kong and I question one of the guards.”
“How did I get a tag like Cracker exactly,” Sonny asked while guarding their front.
“You were born into it. Kong here got his name from a childhood memory of my Mom’s making. Now shut up and watch our six or I’ll change your tag to Snow White.”
Quinn chuckled, gripped one of the guards, and lifted him to a chair as if he were a bag of potato chips. Jean did knife tricks in front of the man’s eyes while Quinn removed the duct tape over his mouth. He then held up his phone with a still of the boy in front of the guard. Jean jabbed the point of her blade a quarter inch deep in the man’s neck.
“Where’s the boy in the picture?” Jean removed the tip from his neck.
“Second…second door on the right… upstairs.”
Quinn covered his mouth again.
“Stay here, Kong while Cracker and I check on the boy.”
“Yell if you need me.”
“I will. You watch your back down here, kid. If something happens to you, the Momster will slice and dice me.”