Interview - Stage Two
His breath was harder than he wanted it
to be, desperate to control his nerves. Hands shaking; at least he
had a good grip on his memory. He couldn't forget what they needed.
He didn't dare forget. Almost at the rendezvous point, just nearly
enough. Able to relax for a moment.
Footsteps. A good sign.
Electricity as the hairs on his arms rose. A gasp as the sack was
dumped over his head and a rope tightened around his neck. They
hadn't mentioned this part.
*
"Seventh circle of hell is
reserved for traitors... welcome."
A baseball bat to the chest brought the
suspect to the floor.
"Shit..."
"You're in it."
After a while he couldn't tell
what was hitting him. Trying to distinguish between kicks and the
baseball bat wasn't enough to keep his mind from the pain.
"You thought you'd sell us
off?"
Definitely baseball bat. This was
clearly not the correct rendezvous. As more kicks came, he
desperately tried to retrace his steps. Wrong right turn? Was it
supposed to be a left? No. The instructions... a kick... had been
very clear. He was sure he was bleeding, probably from several
places.
Then nothing.
"I'm gonna gut you like a fucking
fish, you..."
The shouting has muffled the sound
of footsteps. There was the sound of a struggle. Somebody gasping for
breath. A gunshot.
"Sorry I'm late..."
One down...
"I hope you now fully understand
the gravity of the situation..."
The sack nodded.
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