“Huh?”
“Sometime after the lights have gone out and you sense one of them close by you, catch a little of how they smell.”
“Go on.”
“The one who moves the sawdust bowls and brings in the meals has a slightly sour odor.”
“You do have a good sense of smell.”
“The ‘warder,’ as we’ll call her, gives off the sour odor. It’s like the smell of milk on someone’s breath.”
“And the one who…” He lifted a shoulder. “Who pleasures herself at our expense?”
“Smells sweet. She bathes regularly. She uses good-quality beauty products—oils, powders that kind of thing.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes, it might sound odd, but she smells young.”
“You can tell by her body odor?”
“Yes, I think so. Don’t you think people in different age groups smell differently?”
“Well… I don’t know. I guess you’re right. But…” He shrugged.
“Trust me on that one, Ed: I know.” She smiled. “I was a dental hygienist. It brings you into close contact with people of all ages, all walks of life.”
“Oh…” He took a breath. “Okay, but we refer to our captors as ‘she.’ Now, I’m sure the one who fucks around with our bodies is female. How do you know the sex of our warder?”
“Brace yourself for this one, Ed, it doesn’t sound pretty.”
“Shoot anyway.”
“I’ve been here long enough to know she has cycles.”
“Huh?”
“She has periods and like I say, she doesn’t exactly devote much time to the bathroom.”
“You mean you can smell her period? Geez.”
“Like I said. Not pretty. But, yes, I can smell menstrual blood.”
“Wow, I’m impressed, Virginia.”
“Thanks.”
“And that paints a fuller picture. We know our captives are two women below menopausal age. One’s our warder.”
“The other our Sex Queen.”
Ed drummed his fingers on his knee. “But this can’t go on, can it?”
“No. But what can we do? We’re in the pen, remember?”
“There’s got to be some way of hitting them. Some way of doing so much damage that we can escape.”
“How?”
“Wait till they get close, then grab them through the bars.”
“You can’t see them. It’s completely dark when they come in.”
“But when she fools around with us through the bars. She’s close then. You can feel her proximity to you.”
She shook her head. “They always order you to put your hands through restraining loops. What about when you lay on the platform? There’s no way of reaching her then?”
“No, there’s bulletproof glass between her and me, even though it’s only around an inch thick.”
“You couldn’t smash it with your fist?”
“Not a hope.”
“And you can’t reach around the outside of it?”
“Nope.”
“The hole?”
“What about the hole?”
“The hole you… present yourself through.”
“Oh.”
“Think about it. She sits on that with her vagina pressed to it. Imagine how vulnerable she is then.”
“You mean that instead of pushing my penis through, I should push my hand up and somehow grab her from the inside?”
“Yes.”
“Wouldn’t work.”
“Why?”
“The hole’s big enough for my penis. Not for my hand.”
“Damn.” Her eyes became downcast.
“Virginia… Virginia, look at me. Believe it. We’ll find a way out of here. And we’re going to hurt these bitches so badly they’ll curse the day they were born.”
Ed was jolted awake. Blinking, he opened his eyes. Darkness again. Inky darkness that revealed nothing. But he heard shouting. A male voice: indignant, a throaty anger, demanding to be let out.
“I’ll rip your heads off… d’ya Goddamn hear me? I’ll tear you apart!”
Thumping sounds. Someone was hammering cage bars.
“You can’t do this to me! D’ya know who I am! I run this neighborhood. What I tells people to do, they do! Ya hear me? I said, ya hear me!” There was more furious rattling.
“Take it easy,” Ed spoke softly. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
“Hey, who’s that?” The voice had a New York accent with a splash of Italian.
“Ed Lake.”
“You let me outta here, Lake, or I’m gonna break every bone in your Goddamn body.”
“I can’t, I—”
“What ya mean you can’t. Let me out of this freakin’ cage. Now!”
The voice had power. People would tremble when they heard that voice.
Ed hissed. “Ssh.”
“Don’t shush me, you asshole.”
“Listen, you’ve got—”
“No, you listen.” The voice raged in the darkness. “You listen to Romero Cardinali. You open the cage now and you and your children and their children escape with their lives. Got that, asshole?”
“Mr. Cardinali, I can’t let you out, I’m—”
“You working for the Jamaican Yardy boys?”
“No. I’m—”
“Then it’s got to be Ratzioni. I tell ya, Fat Ratz is gonna nourish coyotes after this. In fact, I’m going to feed his balls to the coyotes one by one and he can watch, the double-crossing—”
“Mr. Cardinali.” Ed’s voice grew to a shout. “I’ve nothing to do with Jamaicans or anyone else, I’m trying to tell you that…” The lights came on. Ed paused, his face burning as if he’d made a fool of himself shouting like that. Then he spoke in a near-whisper. “I’m trying to tell you that I’m in a cage like you.”
A plump, balding man stood in the cage once occupied by Marco. He wore black pants, white shirt, no shoes, and could have passed for a wine waiter or even funeral undertaker. He looked around fifty, was sweating profusely. He also looked very, very angry.
“You sure you’re locked in there, kid? You’re not puttin’ me on?”
Virginia spoke. “He’s not. We’re both prisoners here.” Then she added, “Like you.”
He shrugged his shoulders and adjusted his shirt collar as if composing himself. “So what’s the deal?”
“Deal?”
“Yeah, deal. You stupid, kid? Deal! What’s going down? Why’re we here?”
“You should save your strength, Mr. Cardinali.” Ed realized he sounded just like Marco the first time he’d spoken to him. “Sit down. Save your strength. You’re going to need it.”
“Hey, no little schmuck gives Romero Cardinali no orders.”
Ed sighed. “Suit yourself.” He lay down and covered himself with the blanket.
“Hey, you, schmuck. Don’t you go to sleep on me. Hey, you…”
I tried, Ed told himself. I tried to help him.
The man raged on. “Hey, what’s going on here? Where is this place? I’m gonna have my people tear it down brick by brick. I’m gonna find who’s responsible for this. They don’t know the kind of guy they’re jerking around here. Keeping me in a cage, for God’s sake. They’re dead. D’ya hear? Dee-Ee-Ay-Dee… dead! D’ya hear that, ya jerks!”
Ed groaned. He wanted to sleep. But sure as eggs are eggs, sleep wouldn’t come easy now with Mr. Cardinali. Our new roomie.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Ed Lake sat in the dark with his back to the cage bars. He listened to the argument. He knew Virginia listened too.
Shoot, listen to the guy.
Mr. Romero Cardinali was saying no dice. “What kind of freaking guy do you take me for, you jerk. I’m no whore. You—”
The bass voice boomed. “Lay on the panel. Present yourself as instructed.”
“You can go preeee-zent yourself, weird little fuck. When I get my hands on you you’re gonna wish—”
&nb
sp; The voice thundered over his, “Cardinali. Do as you are instructed.”
“So, you know my name, you pervert. You went through my wallet when you knocked me cold. You’ll wish you were out cold when I start work on you. I’m gonna cook your dick in a microwave. I’m gonna drill through your kneecaps.”
The guy’s got balls, Ed reflected. For now anyway.
“Cardinali, present yourself. Otherwise you will be punished.”
“Punished? Ha! Come and face me like a man. Stop skulking away in the shadows, you little freak.”
The electronically altered voice had fooled Cardinali like it fooled Ed at first. But the more he heard the deep, velvet voice, the more he could hear a woman’s inflections.
Cardinali raged on.
Once Ed had hissed across at him, “You’ve got to do as they say.”
“Sez who, cheeseball?”
“It’s me, Ed Lake. Do as they say. They’ll hurt you if—”
“Like I’d take orders from you, kid.”
“Listen, I’m trying to save your life. If you don’t—”
“Shut it, kid. Romero Cardinali’s gonna headline this particular gig, d’ya hear me?”
“Okay, okay.” Sighing, Ed closed his eyes.
Ed heard Virginia whisper to him. “You tried, Ed. Whatever happens next, your conscience will be clear.”
The deep voice persisted. Maybe the thickset bull of a man interested their sex mistress? Did she have a thing about gangsters? Only he wasn’t interested. He wasn’t going to play their erotic games and no, he wasn’t going to “preeee-zent” himself through the hole in the Perspex roof of the cage. “Ya think I’m gonna wave my wang in the air for your appreciation, then ya got another think coming. Now do yourself a favor and unlock the damn cage, otherwise I’m going to slice you from ass to eyebrow!”
More insults came out to fill the dark void. The guy was in good form. Knew words that Ed didn’t, and Ed thought he was a pretty street-wise guy.
The guy was laying it down how he was going to dismantle the owner of the deep voice piece by piece when he gave a sudden, surprised, “Hey! What did ya prick me with?” His voice grew louder. “Why don’t ya put on the light and try pricking me when I can see ya? Youze pile of shit. I’m gonna be your own personal hairdresser, do you hear me? I’m gonna shampoo your hair in gasoline. Then I’m going to drop a match. You’re gonna get the blow-dry of your life, believe me, you little… liffle sh… shit. Hey, wass iss? Wass zisss… what ya shot into me? Injected sumfin?”
Ed sat up straight, heart beating. The man’s speech was slurred. The volume became lower. The bars clanged as if someone had fallen against them.
“Bash… bass… bastards. Cowards… bast…” Then a deep thump.
Down and out. Someone had KO’d the guy with a hypodermic.
For a little while all Ed heard were the sound of snores.
Then there were other sounds… scraping. Clicks. The sound of panting.
Jesus. Ed strained his ears in the dark. He opened his eyes wide. Wide as they could go, only he could see nothing in that inky soup. The breathing got louder. Bumps. Scrapes. A grunt. Someone exerted themselves. Holy shit, was someone having sex with the gangster as he lay there unconscious? Maybe this time with his bare butt “preeee-zented”?
Mentally, Ed didn’t want to allow his mind to roam too far in that direction. His front body parts were sore enough. He didn’t want to receive any attention from the rear as well.
The sounds went on. My God, what were they doing to Cardinali?
Ed didn’t like the sound of them. He didn’t like the sound of them at all.
The lights took a while to come back. For a long time Ed had sat in the darkness listening to the snoring grunt coming from the man. Something had happened. Something shitty. Only Ed couldn’t begin to guess what.
After a while: “At least he’s not dead.” That was Virginia’s voice.
“But they’ve done something to him.”
“Given him a shot of some drug. He’s out cold.”
“Done something else too. Heard them working on him.”
“Dear God.”
He heard her breathe deeply. “Best brace yourself when the lights come on. It’s bound to be something bad.”
“I was just thinking the same. Poor guy.”
“He was his own worst enemy, Ed. He should have done what they told him.”
“Maybe he had a stronger sense of self-respect.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She sounded hurt.
“Nothing,” he replied.
“We’re survivors, Ed. We’ve got to remember that.”
“Sure. I’ll remember.”
“Woss… s’wrong?”
“Heads up,” Virginia hissed. “Sleeping Beauty’s waking.”
“Hey, woss ‘appen-in’? What gives?”
Ed listened to the man’s groggy exclamations. He could talk anyway. Maybe their gaolers hadn’t punished harshly after all. Just a shot of some drug to show him who’s boss.
A moment later the lights flickered. Ed blinked against the brilliance. He looked in the direction of Cardinali. Through the bars he saw him.
Holy shit. What have they done to him?
The bastards… the sadists… trussed him like a dead deer.
Almost.
Not quite.
There were differences. Ed looked at the man in the next cage. He stood on a three-legged stool; one of those old-fashioned milking stools. Around his neck was a noose. The other end was tied to the roof beam of the cage. It had become a gallows.
“Hey, what they done to me?” squealed the guy. “What’s the game?”
No game.
They were serious… dead serious.
“Mr. Cardinali,” Virginia called in alarm as the stool wobbled. “Stand still. Perfectly still.”
“What they done?” The guy still had a dumbstruck expression on his fleshy face. He couldn’t work out what had happened.
But Ed saw.
Saw clear as day.
Their captors had drugged the man. Then, as he’d lain unconscious, they’d somehow winched him upright, stood him on a stool with a noose around his neck and his hands either tied or cuffed behind his back. Ed couldn’t tell which because the man stood facing him on the rickety stool.
But why didn’t he strangle as he hung there unconscious? Then he saw. They’d supported his body weight with a harness that had been buckled to the roof crossbar. They guy couldn’t fall and choke anyway. Even if you kicked the stool from him.
So what’s the deal?
The guy couldn’t be comfortable.
But it wasn’t as if he was in mortal danger, was he?
Then the light went out again. Moments later, cursing. A whispered voice. Then a moan in the darkness. Cardinali? “Please… listen, I apologize. From now on I’ll be good. Please…” The note of defiance was well and truly history now. Instead: pleading. “Please. I’ll do anything. But don’t do that. Please, don’t do that! Don’t!”
Ed heard rustling. Chinks, something like chain links. A frightened gasp.
Then murmuring. Fast, too fast to hear properly.
Virginia said, “Listen to the guy. He’s praying.”
“Oh, Holy-Mary-Mother-of-God…” Cardinali’s voice was low and rapid. “Please-have-mercy-on-me. Mary-Mother-of-God, I’m-a-sinner. I-ask-for-your-forgiveness-in-this-my-hour-of-darkness…”
The light flickered. Brilliance filled the room.
Ed looked across at Cardinali.
His heart lurched.
He heard a cry of shock in his own throat.
Bad.
This was bad.
The poor guy didn’t deserve this.
“Oh, my God,” Virginia breathed behind Ed.
Ed looked up at the guy through the bars of his cage. They were sadists. They really should have their fucking hearts torn out.
Romero Cardinali still stood on the rickety three-legged milki
ng stool. Still had his hands cuffed or tied behind his back. Still had the noose around his neck. But now something was missing.
The harness.
Now that he’d recovered consciousness, they’d snuck down here in the dark and unbuckled it. They’d done it from the top, where it had looped over the crossbar, not risking entering the cage with the conscious gangster. His feet were free, he could have delivered a killer of a kick.
The web of the harness dangled down by the side of his waist now like a strappy hula skirt. But it was Cardinali that drew Ed’s eyes.
He stood there trembling. You could see the knees shaking. In turn, that made the stool wobble.
“Take it easy. Take it real easy.” Ed spoke in a soothing voice. “You’re okay… just don’t make any sudden movement.”
“Please help me,” Cardinali whispered as if fearing that talking would unbalance him. “Please. I don’t know how much longer I can stand still.” The stool wobbled.
Ed looked up at the man’s face. It was a mask of terror. Terror turned his eyes into shining balls in his head. Perspiration rolled from the crown of his bald head down his face, down his neck, to slick the rope around his neck. Even the hemp was stained dark with sweat.
Ed glanced back at Virginia. She stared in horror at the man.
“What can we do?” he whispered to her.
“What can we do?” She echoed the words in a helpless tone. “We’re here; he’s there.”
“Hey… hey. I know ya talking about me… what’re ya saying?”
Ed turned. “You’ve got to stay as calm as possible. Keep still.”
“Ha.” The sound came as a squeal. “Keep still? Easy for you to say, kid. But look at me, kid. Look at me!”
The moment his voice got louder his legs wobbled more, making the stool rock.
“Keep as still as possible,” Virginia told him. “We’re working on it.”
Ed shot her a questioning look.
She gave a little hop of a shoulder. “What can we do?” she seemed to be saying.
Ed turned to the guy. “Just breathe nice and slow. Keep as still as possible.”
“I think I’m getting a cramp.”
“You’re not. Try to untense your muscles.”
“Aw, Jesus, ya gotta be kidding me.” The man sounded close to weeping. His face turned tomato.
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