Killing Sanford (Gary Cannon Book 1)

by Mike Kershner

  Brent turned around, picked up a phone against the wall and waited. He watched the slender man in the next room get up to answer the phones mate, and when he did Brent said, “Water board him.”

  ***

  Gary watched the slender man hang up the phone, and just like before he went to the large man and spoke right into his ear. This time though the man looked at him, and the slender man just nodded, turned and went back to his table.

  The large man left, and returned with what looked like a weight bench. When he sat it on the floor Gary could tell it was in fact a weight bench, it looked just like the one he and his classmates had done bench press on in physical education.

  Gary was told to stand up and walk to the bench, they sat him at the end of the bench and leaned him back, he was strapped to the bench, the straps were heavy leather with three inch buckles, and they were tight. The men were standing over him, the taller one looked right at him, “Where were you born?”

  “Athens Georgia.”

  They wrapped a towel around Gary’s face. He felt water hit the towel and rapidly the water was everywhere. It flowed up his nose and he opened his mouth, it filled his mouth. He felt as if he were drowning. He tried to clench his throat, take small shallow breaths but the water kept coming. His body was fighting against the restraints. His hands were trembling, he felt as if he was about to die.

  The water stopped and the towel came off, Gary was coughing up water, he was soaked from the shoulders up, his ears were ringing, he was doing all that he could to get air to his lungs. The short man looked down at him, “What was your mother’s name?”

  “Helen,” he coughed, “My mother’s name was Helen Bronson. She died,” more coughing, then gasping for air, “died from cancer, I was eight.”

  Then the towel was back, and the water shortly after, the sensation of drowning was overpowering, Gary maintained as much focus as he could, he kept thinking there was no way the water could pour forever, but it did. The water rained down on his face through the towel, it went up his nose, in his mouth. He gasped and he swallowed some, he was fighting the restraints again. He wanted it to stop, he thought “Just kill me, but no more of this, kill me now.” But again the water stopped and the towel was removed.

  Before they could ask a question, and between breaths and coughs Gary said, “My fucking name is Milo. I am Milo Bronson. I grew up in Georgia, my father’s name is Izzy and when he finds out what you are doing to me he is going to come here and kill you.”

  He had a spasm of coughing, “He’s going to fucking kill you all, he’ll cut your goddamn fingers off. And then he’s going to feed them to you. He’s a strong man and he loves me I’m all he has left. If you bastards are going to kill me, just do it. You’re already dead, he’s going to kill you all.”

  ***

  “Dammit, Brent better get in there and get them stopped.” Neil calmly said.

  Brent jumped up and bolted for the door fumbled with the latch briefly and disappeared through the door until quickly appearing on the other side of the two way mirror. Brent was wound up, as he often got, hopping from one foot to the other, shouting at one person, then the next. He peeled the men away from Gary, and began to unstrap him from the bench.

  ***

  There was a new voice in the room, Gary had not heard this one before, the voice was not free of an accent but it was not the English with Latin undertones he had grown used to, it sounded familiar, almost like Elvis. Gary was looking around for the source and then it was right above him, a round faced little man, his hairline was rapidly running away from his eyebrows, and he had what looked to be two maybe three days stubble on his chin.

  “Gary.” The man said, “Gary, look at me.” He continued as he was unbuckling the heavy leather straps.

  Gary was afraid to answer, or afraid to answer as Gary. Was this another trick? He simply chose not to answer, in his confusion silence seemed to be the best solution.

  Again the face was above him, looking down at him, setting him upright. The man was squatted in front Gary now, eye to eye, his eyes were so blue they looked painted, they looked so out of place on that round homely face, “Gary, breathe slowly, take deep breaths, in through your nose, out through your mouth. Just relax.”

  Gary took deep breaths, relaxing, he could still feel his pulse in his ears, his heart was racing, his hands were still shaking, and his stomach was upset. This man coming in, interrupting was as much a shock as that first splash of water through the towel.

  They had stood him up now, walking, making a lap around the room. His legs were shaking, and his knees were weak. The round faced man and one of the interrogators were helping him stay steady.

  As they walked the round faced man talked, “Gary, my name is Brent Abby, right now your body is full of adrenaline, brought about from the induced fear of drowning. We’re just going to walk around a bit and get some of it purged from your muscles. When you feel steady we can let you sit, it’s going to take a little bit, just try to relax keep breathing.”

  As they walked Gary did begin to feel better, his breathing became steadier, and the pounding pulse in his ears went away. He made several laps around the room on his own, the shakes were gone now, things were coming back into focus, and he stopped walking. “I’d like to sit down now.”

  They steered him to a chair where they checked his pupils, his blood pressure and his pulse. They gave him some apple juice and told him to drink it. “I can give you some brief answers now if you feel up to it.”

  Gary nodded, and Brent motioned him to a door, the door that had led to the elevator, Gary hesitated. “You’re not going back to the box Gary, these guys are going to stay here, just you and me.” Brent stepped through the door, “Just come this way, let’s go down the hall here, we’ll get you cleaned up, get some food.”

  Gary looked back at the room, looked at the two large Hispanic men, the slender man, he took one moment and memorized their faces before he turned and followed Brent into the hallway.

  ***

  The shower did more for Gary than he would have guessed, it was a small stall in a row of ten showers, stainless steel dividers between each. The entire room was tiled with small octagonal white tiles, floor and walls.

  The cool room fogged with the heat from the single shower. There were no windows, Gary had no idea what time it was, he wondered if it was day or night. In his mind Gary tried to estimate the length of time he had been at this place, wherever this place was, his mind was grappling with so many unknowns.

  He turned off the water, toweled off and put on the clothes they had brought for him, a V-neck undershirt, a pair of boxer shorts and what looked like a set of light cotton pajamas, they reminded him of something a doctor would wear to surgery. He grabbed the pair of slippers they had left with the clothes and walked to the end of the row of showers.

  The room was L shaped and to the right there was a row of toilets and sinks with mirrors opposite the commodes, Gary stopped at one of the sinks to tame his damp hair down and continued to the door at the far end of the room.

  ***

  The food had been good, as good as Gary had eaten since his mother had died. It was a lonely meal in a large room set up with benches and tables, it looked as if it could feed one hundred fifty, maybe more. Brent had guided him to the room where the plate was waiting, a chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, green beans, and a glass of water.

  He had only just sat down his silverware, and wiped his mouth with the paper napkin when Brent came back for him. He lead him back down a corridor and to the elevator, Gary hesitated, and looked at him meekly.

  “We’re not going that far down this time Gary, my office is on second level down, that’s where we’re headed.”

  Gary took a step back, “Mr. Abby, I’m not going back to that room, I don’t know what’s going on here, if you guys want to put me through more of that stuff, just get it over with quit with all this back and forth. If you want me to make up more stuff, I will
, if you want me to sit in some freezing box, go ahead. You think you’ll trip me up, but you won’t, because you think you can do something to me that’s worse that what my mind does, worse than what I’ve been through. A few days ago my parents died, and I found out that everything I knew was wrong, so give it hell if you’ve got it. Try to torture me more that my mind already has.”

  Brent stood in the elevator door way, the doors closed, their safety pressed against his shoulders and they re-opened, he stood and looked at Gary, the doors closed and opened again.

  Brent reached inside his suit jacket and produced a pistol, it was a cannon of a revolver gleaming silver with pearl grips. Brent pulled the hammer back, and looked at it. He held it out, “Alright Gary, here’s the deal. You and I are going to get in this elevator, we are going to ride it down two floors, when we get out we’ll walk down a hallway, past six doors, and then we will go in a door on the right. That’s my office, there are some nice comfortable chairs in the office, it will be a perfect sixty-eight degrees, I’ll turn on the radio if you like and we can talk.

  I’m going to give you the skinny on what’s going on. After that you can get some rest and you and I will talk again but I have some decisions to make and before I can do that we have to talk. Until we get to my office, you take this, the hammer is back, and it’s loaded with some nasty hollow points. It’s a .44 magnum, it’ll shoot through these doors shoot through me and into the wall. Anyway, you take it, and you walk behind me, keep it pointed at my head, if at any point you feel like stuff’s going to get weird for you.”

  Brent waited for just a second, looking Gary over, “You pull the trigger. After than you can just lay it down and walk out. After that all deals are off, you go on your way. I hope it doesn't come to that, and I’m going to show some faith and trust you won't hollow out my skull.”

  Gary reached out and took the pistol, surprised by its weight, he turned it over in his hand, looking at both sides, satisfied with what he had been given he nodded.

  The two stepped into the elevator. The door closed behind them, and the elevator started its descent. As Brent said, when the doors opened they walked down a hallway and passed six doors and into an office.

  The office was very plainly decorated, and dark, an enameled desk lamp was the only light on in the room. The desk was a clinical green color, linoleum topped. The brown vinyl chairs were very overstuffed, they did look comfortable as Brent had said to him before got onto the elevator.

  Brent pulled a chair back and offered for Gary to have a seat. Brent put his hand out, “I think I’ll have that weapon back now. I hope you’ve gained a little trust getting here. But I’m going to need for you to have a bit more, and I’ll need that back so we can sit here and talk.”

  Gary, lowered the heavy revolver, and handed it to Brent, he sat in the heavily padded chair, and it held him like a catcher's glove. The vinyl was cool through the thin cotton he was wearing, it made him think of cold car seats in the winter.

  Brent walked around behind the desk and sat in the swivel desk chair. He leaned back, pulled open his desk drawer and retrieved a pack of Camels, tapped one of the cigarettes on the desk a few times and lit it. Brent took a deep drag and closed his eyes. He exhaled the smoke into the air and the plume jetted upward, until it was interrupted by the stream of air rushing from the vent register near the ceiling. Gary watched the smoke curling and turning until it disappeared into the mix of air in the room.

  “I know you are confused Gary. Let me tell you this the simplest way I can think of. This is Sanford International Holdings, well, not this office but...we are, I mean, I work for Sanford International Holdings. You are at El Comienzo facility in the South Territory of Baja California.”

  “Where is Neil? Is he here?”

  “Neil is not on site at the moment.”

  “Is he coming back? Is he alright?”

  “Yes, Neil is fine. It is difficult to tell when he will be coming back. Neil is not one who is easily predicted.”

  Gary nodded, mentally working out how that would be valuable to someone in his profession.

  Brent ashed in the tray on the corner of his desk, “First, we took you from the CIA safe house. Ritchie knew someone was coming with Neil, the info we had said he didn’t know who. So, we set him up and decoyed him with you. We needed it to look like we were needing you for either a ransom situation or for information you were holding. The spooks they like that shit, and it gets them looking for something making waves, and lets us move on from it in another direction. Second, sending Fernando and Pablo in leaving Neil in the house for Ritchie to find the next day unconscious, his mention of Panama, it is all misdirection. They drugged you put you in a car and drove. They took turns driving straight through until you arrived here.”

  Gary sat still he was having trouble believing everything he was hearing, it was more than he could have imagined. Brent lit another Camel, “The ‘process’ you went through over the last day or so is called baselining. Typically our recruits come from some kind of military background, occasionally we pull from civilians, but mainly ex-military. So, when we have someone who hasn’t been, vetted let’s say, we have to baseline them. It’s an attempt to figure out where they’ll break mentally. It sets the course for their training, what their fit for, what direction we push them. It’s the first test, and it’s not fun.”

  “So, did I pass?”

  “It’s not that simple. Usually we start out with a story, make up a life maybe, and we pick it apart. We go back, ask questions, wait for the recruit to mix something up he gets rewarded with some pain, we ask some more questions and we go until they break down. Until they can’t keep the real and the imagined from flowing together. I have participated in more of these than I can count and we have it down to a science.”

  Gary only nodded slowly, this seemed like insanity to him.

  Brent leaned forward in his chair, “Or should I say ‘had’ it down to a science. What I described is the way it usually goes but, that’s not the way it went this time. When we ran you through the paces, you came back with more detail than we expected. When we went back and checked it you came back like it was real. Say one in one thousand pull that off as smoothly as you did right off the bat. A performance like that takes the process right to the next level. So we sent you to the box, same story. Brought you back up mixed it up, you stayed on course, right down the path you built from the beginning, but instead of being vague, you added detail.”

  Brent crushed his cigarette, “So, we started in with the water...I know that’s bad, I’ve had it done to me, and it’s no picnic. This is the point where it makes the least sense, you came out of that going just a strong as you were from the start.”

  “I was doing what your guys said to do, they said make them believe it, that’s what I was doing.”

  Brent pulled another Camel from the pack and lit it, “That’s right Gary. You were doing just what they had said, and what I am saying now is...well, it doesn’t make sense. We’ve had some pretty hard characters in here, didn’t last half the time you did, guys with training, guys that were born to lie, guys that had lived their whole lives being someone they weren’t. In the end I guess there’s only one way to put it, you fucked my ranking system.”

  Brent leaned back in his chair, and looked to the ceiling, “Gary, when I was told you were being brought to me, I figured a kid, and especially a kid from a good home wouldn’t last thirty minutes. I was ready to say you could work in a mailroom somewhere or analyze maps for us. But instead I’m saying, I can’t classify you because you’re off my chart. I have to tell you this, I didn’t know your dad. He was out of this before my time started here, but I’ve heard his mind was like some kind of steel trap. They say once things went in they were there, and he could bring them out whenever he wanted. The guys that are still here from when he was still talk about it, he was always thinking, always had some little something to lend to a problem. The guy was a fucking genius as near a
s I can tell. He saw three steps ahead, like he could see tomorrow before you even knew it was today yet. He must have never slept in the beginning, there’s not a document or guideline that we have that doesn't have some kind of notes from James Cannon. In fact, it was notes he made, the things he wrote about recruitment that led me to develop this program, and you threw a wrench right into the works.”

  ***

  Gary watched Brent light yet another cigarette from the one still burning in his hand, he was still taking in the information that had been thrown at him. Baselining, he thought. He thought how crazy the entire experience had been, and despite how confusing and terrible it had been, this balding man in front of him seemed almost pissed off that he had exceeded the expectations of the program.

  “Mr. Abby, if it’s alright with you I’d like to get some sleep now. I am not quite sure what you are expecting from me, but I am very tired.”

  “Very good, I hope that you can rest, this is a lot to take in. I’ll have Pablo come down and he can show you to your quarters. I’ll give you ten hours to get back straight, hopefully that's enough, because tomorrow you are going to have to start getting used to a new life and a new schedule.” Brent was not looking at Gary as he spoke, he was watching the smoke curl in the air.

  What an odd man he is, Gary thought as he sat watching him puff away on the Camel. Neil pushed a button on a small box on the desk, there was a buzz, and then static, Brent did not wait for anyone to talk, “Send Pablo down.”

  ***

  Pablo closed the door as he left Gary alone in the small room. He heard a key in the lock and footsteps down the corridor and away from the door. Gary let out a breath and sat down on the bed, he was alone again, some questions had been answered, and some new ones had been raised.