*
Fenric ached all over. The application of Taser needles until he passed out affected his short term memory. He kept his eyes shut while quietly taking stock of his physical attributes. Cursing himself internally without showing any outward sign, Ballesteros concluded his limbs as well as his head were restrained with straps he could not slither away from. He thought for a moment as to his choices, wondering about who or what he could barter away to keep his life. It was then three men approached, dressed in black, one with a vicious clown mask, and the other two with black silk face masks. A woman accompanied them, dressed in black, with a red eye mask and a red headband. One of the black silk masked men checked the video camera mounted directly behind the four. He nodded at the one at the other end of the line, who came forward with a water glass and straw. Fenric drank with hard to pretend thirst.
“We know you were staking out the Dickerson house,” the man said, stripping off his mask. “I’m-”
“Nick McCarty! Oh sweet Jesus! You killed Felix Moreau. Listen, Nick… I don’t have a contract on you. This is business, compadre. My employer doesn’t even know you. I’m here for the Dickerson family across from where you snatched me. I would never have taken a contract on you. Sure… I would shoot you in the back of the head if I saw you. I damn well wouldn’t go hunting you. I heard you took down the Frank Richert Cartel inside the NSA. How can I make this right?”
“You can’t, Fen,” Nick answered. “I’m willing to forget you were going to hit the target bought and paid for by Fernando Carone. It’s nothing personal. It’s just business. You know reality, brother rat. You’re not walking out of here. Let’s get the finances out of the way first. Cleaner? Come over and scope this out.”
“Yes, Muerto.” Cala streaked into position, staring at Fenric. “I’m ready.”
“This is ‘The Cleaner’. She’s a living lie detector. We’ll need all your bank accounts first. Please don’t play make believe with us. We’ll keep you alive for a time until we confirm everything. Then, I’ll give you a peaceful, painless death. God help you if we don’t get the truth or your account information doesn’t check out. In that case, I will give you a glimpse of hell. My other compatriot, El Kabong will be using his satellite uplinked laptop to transfer your funds first. Begin quickly, Fen. You have ten seconds to comply with your account locations and numbers for transfer. We’ll get to the rest later.”
Fenric recited in precise terms everything McCarty asked for. He observed for over a decade what can be done to a man in interrogation. The choice was clear – he either gave them everything they wanted or they would torture him until he did. He recognized McCarty immediately. Fenric had laughed when watching reports and videos of the ‘Unholy Trio’. Never did he think to cross their paths. Unlike other observers to the videos, Fenric knew they were not fake. The Middle East idiots, he had watched the destruction of an Isis cell in Ohio with, claimed it was a fake, vowing to find the filmmakers responsible. Fenric told them, ‘Allah help you if you do’. Carone had hired him for a simple kill in quiet Pacific Grove. If McCarty wanted Carone, Fenric would help him. He didn’t know if Carone knew about McCarty or the Unholy Trio, but if he had sent him into their hunting grounds without telling him, Fenric wanted him to pay for it with his life, as he himself soon would.
*
Johnny nodded at Nick after finishing transfer of accounts from Ballesteros’s holdings into their own offshore accounts. “It is done. He had nearly five million as he claimed.”
“Very good, Fen,” Nick said, turning to Ballesteros. “You may have guessed we want the guy who hired you. Fernando Carone put the hit on our police friend and his family. We know where he is and what his plans are. You were to kill the Dickerson family tonight. Is that correct?”
“Yes. I will help in any way I can for you to get the bastard who put me in your sights. Our kind do not have friends. Why make this personal?”
In most instances, Nick admitted to himself, Fen was right. His career as a writer, and moving to Pacific Grove as a base, changed him. Then, along came Rachel, Jean, Deke, and now Quinn to cement the change into place. He knew explaining it to Fen would be a useless exercise. “Shit happens. I never took a contract on a family. I don’t hold that against you, but we were never the same kind. We need you to confirm information gathered from two of Carone’s other henchmen.”
“Of course,” Fenric agreed, relaxing his head back while staring up at the horrific ceiling. He smiled. “This is a very nice setting, Nick.”
“Thanks, Fen. I’m glad we won’t have to introduce you to some of the room’s more nightmarish implements.”