He crawled over two hundred yards to the perimeter of the camp. The last fifty yards took him over an hour. He had severe muscle spasms in his back and abdomen. He placed a stick in his mouth to keep from screaming. His teeth ached from bearing down on the stick, and his gums began to bleed. Mitchelli was fading quickly.
The sun had set and Mitchelli was attempting to lie motionless on his back, drinking water to help control his spasms. He debated whether to take the strong narcotic pills to calm his nerves. His pain was unbearable and his body trembled violently. MacJames, I have to call her for help. I promised I would call if I was in trouble. My family, Stazi, they’ll come. You deserve to die, everyone’s better off without you; you bring nothing but pain to those you love! His phone was in his field pack but he convinced himself to push on; it was only a matter of hours before the explosives would clear the landing zone. He had to stay alert. When the extraction team landed, his job would be to distract the guards, keeping them occupied long enough for the agents to take control of the camp.
The guards had moved the prisoners into the metal building. They took turns as they had done before, exiting the metal building and patrolling the camp. He closed his eyes focusing on what he had to do; seconds seemed like minutes, hours seemed like days as the time dragged on. He closed his eyes and his nerves began to settle. Suddenly he heard a familiar voice, a comforting voice, then Dutch yelled, and a woman’s scream shot through his body. He opened his eyes and saw Dutch hitting a woman; her arms held behind her back by two guards. Their grip slipped as she fell to her knees, her face bloodied. ANN! Oh my God, they have Ann!
“Hold the bitch up, or is she too heavy for you young studs?” The guards pulled Butaninni to her feet. “Who are you and what were you doing in our woods?”
“Go to hell, you piece of shit.”
“You bitch!” Dutch slapped the brunette then held his twelve-inch knife to her throat. “I’ll cut you real slow. I’ll enjoy every minute watching you suffer. That is, after we have our private time.” He placed the knife on her face and slowly moved it down her neck, around her breast, and violently with an upward motion he cut her shirt and bra.
The brunette screamed as she spit blood on Dutch. The guards held her up, groping her from behind as they raised her to her feet. A guard placed his arm around her neck, his serrated knife against her throat. Her body stiffened as she felt the razor’s edge cut the side of her neck. Her back arched and standing erect, her eyes widened in shock. Dutch noticed the sudden change in his prisoner’s expression as she looked towards the woods. He turned and his eyes widened in disbelief as he saw Mitchelli walking towards them, his shoulder rig hanging from his hand as he placed it over the railing on the porch. He walked towards Dutch.
Dutch screamed with all his might, “THE ONE, THE MARAUDER! The Marauder, he’s the one Handly’s been searching for!”
“I have Handly’s heroin. You’ll never find it unless you let her go.” Mitchelli’s clothes were drenched with blood and sweat.
“MITCHELLI, YOU DAGO WOP SON OF A BITCH!” Dutch ran to him, releasing his fist. He hooked Mitchelli across the head and knocked him to his knees. “Boys, three hundred million bucks just walked into our camp. This must be our lucky day.” He kicked Mitchelli in the face, knocking him onto his back as blood shot from his mouth. Three guards ran to Mitchelli, pointing their rifles at the large man as he rose to his knees. Dutch kicked him in the gut and Mitchelli’s body fell to the ground, gasping for air.
“Let her go,” he coughed, choking on his blood. “You dumb bastard, Leo’s going to be pissed when you kill me. He’ll never find his shipment. Stupid! You’re going to cost him three hundred million.” Ann must live. You must die so she may live, protect Ann. Mitchelli yelled, “Ann, are you alright?”
Tears ran down Butaninni’s face as she realized Mitchelli was hallucinating. She knew the side effects from the pills. Anxiety, depression, tension, nervousness, self-destructive tendency and delusions! He’s going to let them kill him.
“ANN, answer me! Are you alright?” He yelled in agony looking towards Butaninni.
“Stay down, I’m Ok. You know me, these pricks can’t hurt me. Don’t move honey, I’ll be OK.”
A guard kicked Mitchelli and drove the butt stock of his rifle into his back. Mitchelli collapsed to the ground again.
“You stupid moron!” Dutch pushed Junior away, “He’s worth three hundred million alive.”
The guard replied, “I thought you said a hundred million?”
“Shitface, don’t tell me what I said. Crucify him and get the taser out. I’ll find Handly’s heroin.”
***
Zachovich was armed; he wore his black Sheriff’s duty belt and bullet resistant vest. His shotgun was under his arm as he carried boxes of shotgun shells towards Steiner’s helicopter.
“This thing’s brand new,” he said as Steiner rushed around the polished machine to greet him. “Steiner, this thing is frickin’ beautiful. Christ, it smells like a new car. Is it a Rolls Royce?”
“Thank you Stephan, it’s an American Eurocopter AS355. The last five means it has two engines. Could you please keep your feet on the placemats?”
Zachovich opened the front passenger door and his boxes of shotgun shells opened and twenty shells fell against the helicopter’s lower Plexiglas window. Steiner grimaced as he held his hands against his face, hoping the shells didn’t scratch his lower windshield.
“I’m sorry Steiner, Jesus. It was an accident.” Zachovich picked the shells off the Plexiglas floor. “Next you’re going to ask me not to fart.”
Steiner took the Captain’s shotgun and secured it in the rear area. He carefully buckled the seatbelt around his Captain, securing him in the front seat. He then placed the headset over his ears, and then ran around the front of the helicopter to man the pilot’s seat. Then they sat for ten minutes while Steiner studied his manual.
Zachovich shook his head nervously. “You weren’t kidding me about reading that manual, you had an extra twelve hours. Have you ever flown this thing?”
“Well, I have over fifteen hours in Eurocopter’s simulator.” Steiner never glanced from his book.
“Simulator, what the frick! You mean you’ve never flown this thing off the ground! My wife’s right; I’m crazy. The one time the Sheriff’s reserve needs you in fifteen years. Christ, I have to call Buckala and tell him this thing is off.”
Annoyed with his Captain and brother-in-law, Steiner put his manual down. He switched on the batteries and began flicking buttons on the upper console. The dashboard gauges lit up, the green and blue lights impressed Zachovich. The night vision screen illuminated in front of both seats. The starters began to hum, and the rotor blades slowly turned. The hum increased as the blades quickly spun faster and faster. Zachovich grabbed the handle above his head with his right hand while he held his rosary in his left. The turbine engines quickly increased their RPMs to operational level. Steiner lowered his left hand and grabbed the articulator, twisting it and pulling up slowly. The helicopter leapt into the air with authority, quickly moving forward gaining speed and altitude.
***
Where the hell are they? We’ll never catch Freed. Buckala stood in the Central Train Station parking lot, it’s gothic tower dominating the night sky dwarfing the adjacent houses. He dialed his phone to call Zachovich when the black machine dropped directly in front of him with almost no warning. The blade’s high-pitched sound was from the power of the second engine, which had cost Steiner an extra million. My God, Freed’s going to shit his pants! I have a better ride than he does. Buckala ran to the helicopter with his black bag, quickly jumping in the rear seat as the machine jumped from the ground and headed southeast to Olean.
***
Handly and O’Connor were negotiating a large drug procurement in Ellicottville when Dutch had called. They drove to Dutch’s camp within an hour. Handly drove his Land Rover up the logging road and parked it just outside the camp. He anx
iously ran into the camp, O’Connor following behind. The guards let them into the camp where the prisoners were gathered by the windows of the metal building, looking at Mitchelli roped to a cross just in front of Dutch’s cabin. Two sets of electrodes were spiked through his flesh, a master taser connected to each set. Four hundred thousand volts traveled between the electrodes. One set of electrodes punctured each forearm, focusing the muscle contractions at his head, neck, and chest. The second set electrodes were driven into his thigh, concentrating the pain on his thighs, abdomen, and groin.
Handly laughed wildly when he saw Mitchelli roped to the cross. Butaninni’s cloths were shredded and two guards held her in front of Mitchelli as Dutch fondled her.
“It’s been a long time Peter, play any football lately?” Handly laughed insanely and his tongue came out of his mouth, licking his lips. “Is this Mrs. Asshole?” His face was next to Butaninni’s and he licked her face. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for this. Dutch, you’re getting a raise. You’ve outdone yourself.”
Mitchelli could barely hold his head up. His face and neck were covered with blood. His clothes were drenched in blood from the guards repeatedly stabbing him with the taser electrodes. Butaninni screamed as she attempted to explain Mitchelli’s illness. The only one that listened was O’Connor, who was disgusted with the sight she had walked in on. She recalled her abuse as a twelve-year-old prostitute, a white slave, child porn star; mentally scarred and her life void of love or passion. O’Connor was witness to a horror scene she could not have imagined.
Handly grabbed the tasers from Dutch, holding them above his head. “Where’s my merchandise?” he asked as held the two triggers down. Mitchelli felt a tingle, then a shock, followed by extreme pain. His muscles went into spasms and he yelled a most horrible agony as he coughed blood from his lungs. His body convulsions snapped the ropes taut against the flexing old wood timbers, which secured his arms. Handly released the trigger.
He held Mitchelli’s head up by his chin, “Where’s my heroin?”
Mitchelli’s head dropped. “Let Ann go and I’ll tell you. You’ll never find it if you don’t let her live.”
Butaninni pleaded, “Leave him alone! He’s sick, you’re killing him. You scumbag he’ll never tell you, he wants you to kill him.”
O’Connor was the only one that heard her cries for help. She walked towards Butaninni but Handly stopped her. He whispered in her ear, “Back off Katherine, this is worth three hundred million. This is our lives, my family’s lives at stake. I’ll kill them both to get our money. Don’t go soft on me now.”
Handly squeezed the taser trigger again. Pain shot through Mitchelli’s legs, and his groin went numb. He pulled on the ropes and his yell echoed through the valley.
The prisoners watching from the metal building became restless and the guards threatened them, hitting them with their rifles. Each prisoner had experienced a turn on the electric crucifixion at some point during their stay at the camp. The experience had been so painful, their attitudes had permanently adjusted.
As Butaninni fell to her knees, Handly put his crotch in her face laughing hysterically. “I’ll kill him, it’s worth three hundred million for my revenge. How’s your fat baby brother? You arrogant son of bitch, you should’ve listened to him when you were a kid, and killed me when you had the chance. But you didn’t have the balls! My football career was destroyed by you, a psychopath grease ball dago. Mitchelli, your wife, like your mother is whore.”
Handly squeezed the trigger again. Mitchelli voice was barely audible, “What football career? You were a lousy quarterback.” Handly released the trigger. “Where’s your dead brother-in-law? Is he still hanging around on your porch?”
“I swear, I’ll kill you. You dago bastard,” Handly yelled as he squeezed the tasers.
“Did you tell Dutch when I was a kid my baby brother and I beat the hell out of you and four of your friends with a book bag?” Mitchelli began to laugh, blood drooling out of his mouth. “Football career; why did you leave the game Leo, tell them?” Handly held the taser trigger down and the timber holding Mitchelli’s arms bent under the force of his muscle contractions.
Just then, Butaninni freed herself from the guards and knocked Handly to the ground. He dropped the tasers as he fell. Embarrassed, he stood up and immediately kicked her in the stomach and head. Butaninni fell motionless to the ground.
“ANN!” Mitchelli’s yell was deafening.
“Leo!” O’Connor screamed. “Dear God, Leo! You’re crazy for Christ’s sake! She’s a woman and he thinks she’s his wife. This is not working, this ends now.”
Handly turned and faced O’Connor. “Who do you think you are, telling me what to do? You were a twelve-year old whore when I saved you.”
Handly’s comment pierced O’Connor like shards of glass. She had to control her hatred. “Nice Leo. Look, maybe I can get him to talk.”
A dark grizzly voice caught everyone’s attention; Mitchelli’s voice had changed. “No matter what happens to me, when my family finds out what you’ve done to my wife, they’re coming after you.”
“Big talk from a family of dago contractors. You’re at the end of my wire. You’re in no position to talk, you dumb wop.”
“You’re so stupid, it’s a wonder you can walk upright. My family extends beyond my siblings, across the country beyond the oceans. You have no idea who I am or what I’ve done. You sent sixteen men after me; they’ll send sixty to send you to hell. My death is business, they’ll understand but the death of my wife is forbidden, a savage sin by a low-level drug peddler. They owe me for my work I have completed at their request. They will come for you Leo, and no hole will be deep enough for you hide.”
“What are you frickin; talking about you asshole? you talk like you’re some kind of…”
“Oh my God, Leo. He can’t be, I thought the stories were only myths!” O’Connor walked toward Mitchelli and stood in front of him. He raised his head looking down at her, as he had done weeks ago.
“Hey beautiful, how about a smoke?” The Marauder’s demeanor changed instantly.
O’Connor pulled a cigarette from her pack, put it in her mouth, lit it, and carefully placed it in Mitchelli’s mouth. “You’re the only man that’s ever called me beautiful,” she said.
She pulled the cigarette from his mouth so he could speak. “Come on, from the looks of things, you’re hanging around the wrong men. You just need to find another line of work.”
O’Connor wiped the blood from Mitchelli’s face before she put the cigarette back in his mouth. “You know he’s crazy, right? He gets off on ten-year-old girls and carving people up. He’ll kill both of you and sleep through the night. Just tell him where the heroin is, please.” Mitchelli smiled, raising his right eyebrow. She pulled the cigarette from his mouth and placed it between her lips.
“Beautiful, please check on Ann.”
“Come on. say it too often and it’s a line. Are you trying to get me into bed?” O’Connor winked at Mitchelli, holding her hand to his bloody face. “Ok love, only for you.” She walked to Butaninni and kneeled by her. Her voice cracked, “How are you doing honey?” Butaninni didn’t answer. Her body remained motionless and her eyes were rolled back in her head. Holding back tears, she grabbed Butaninni’s hand and a bottle of pills fell to the ground. Curious, she read the label: Peter Mitchelli, Dr. Rubin. Take one as needed when anxious.
Butaninni’s lifeless body laid before her. She had sacrificed herself searching for someone she loved and cared for. O’Connor began to sob as she took off her coat and placed it around Butaninni. Her emotions ruptured in a state of total confusion; she felt pity for the woman’s death, but emptiness in her heart that she herself had never had anyone to love, not once in her life. As a child her indentured servitude to human traffickers robbed her of any hope of love. She had millions in Cayman bank accounts, but she realized it meant nothing. She had never known love; had never lived life to its fulfillment. O’Connor was je
alous Butaninni had risked her life to save someone she loved. She held Butaninni’s head wiping the blood from her beautiful face and gently pulled her hair back. O’Connor looked at her hands stained with blood, she was no better than the human traffickers, depriving Butaninni of love and life.
Mind Kill- Rise of the Marauder Page 64