Tricks and Traps (Gray Spear Society Book 7)

by Siegel, Alex

"It was a clear case of self-defense, which is acceptable. If the other guard refuses to answer our questions, he'll probably die, too. Our interrogations usually end that way. We'll need Aaron's approval first."

  "He can break the rules?" she said.

  "No, but he bends them, and those decisions aren't easy. He answers to God and the legate. Neither boss will listen to excuses if Aaron goes too far."

  Tawni frowned. Just being a legionnaire was intense enough for her. She didn't want to imagine the pressures that Aaron faced. Ten million people lived in his territory, and all of them were relying on him for protection, while God and the legate watched from afar.

  The brown pinball machine factory came back into view. Tawni and Norbert crouched between some thick bushes.

  "Any bright ideas?" he asked.

  "Not really. Do you think there are more guards around?"

  "Certainly. We're going to need a distraction to keep them busy while we do our work. Otherwise, we'll have to fight them."

  "A distraction will wake them up," she said.

  "When they realize two men have gone missing, they'll be alert for danger anyway."

  She looked for something she could use to create a distraction. The cars in the parking lot gave her an idea.

  "A car fire?"

  He nodded. "Go ahead. I'll cover you."

  She watched the shadows for a long moment to make sure it was safe. She sprinted across the parking lot and crawled under a red pickup truck. She pressed a small breaching charge against the gas tank. The wad of sticky explosive was designed to bust open doors, but it would work just as well for this purpose. She set the timer for one minute.

  She ran back to Norbert.

  "What did you use?"

  "A breaching charge on the gas tank," she said.

  He shook his head. "That may not work."

  "Why not?"

  The charge exploded with a loud bang. Gasoline gushed out but it wasn't burning. A big puddle quickly formed on the parking lot.

  "What happened?" Tawni said.

  "Those charges are designed to make holes not start fires. You need a separate ignition source."

  He reached under his cloak and took out a green steel canister. Large holes perforated the sides.

  "A flash bang?"

  "Cover your ears," Norbert said.

  He tossed the grenade onto the gasoline. She squeezed her eyes shut and jammed her fingers in her ears. The flash of light was startling even with her eyes closed. The boom thumped her chest.

  He grabbed her arm. "Come on. Let's go around back."

  The gasoline was now burning brightly under the truck. A guard dressed in black opened the front door and looked around.

  Norbert ran around the factory using the tree line for cover. Tawni had to press hard to keep up. He seemed more interested in speed than stealth.

  He went straight to a back door. He tried the handle, but it was locked. He took out a set of lock picks.

  "Hurry," she whispered.

  "Keep your eyes open for trouble."

  She scanned her surroundings while he worked the lock. Every shadow seemed dangerous. Even the buzzing of insects sounded threatening.

  Norbert opened the door. He slipped inside, and there was an immediate commotion.

  Suddenly fearful, Tawni looked into the factory. He was standing over the dead body of a guard with a slashed throat.

  "This operation is getting messy," Norbert whispered. "Let's finish quickly."

  He took a flashlight from the body. She followed him as he moved swiftly through the factory. At night, it felt like a much more dangerous place than during the day.

  An opening in the floor provided access to a secret basement. A workbench had been shoved out of the way to uncover the hole. A wooden stairway went down to a well-lit area below.

  Tawni peered down the stairs and glimpsed Super Double Monkey machines being assembled from parts.

  "Hey!" a male voice yelled.

  She raised her eyes. Two guards had their assault rifles aimed at her.

  Bullet holes appeared in their foreheads, and they dropped to the floor, dead. Tawni looked around for the shooter. Norbert was lying under the workbench with his gun in hand, and the barrel was smoking.

  He stood up. "Pay more attention to your surroundings. You can't let your enemies sneak up on you like that. It's embarrassing." He put his gun away.

  "Sorry," she said.

  "Let's go before I kill anybody else."

  They ran out the way they had entered.

  Norbert led Tawni straight back to Smythe by the shortest route. By the time they arrived, she was breathing hard from sprinting at top speed. Her body armor felt like lead weights on her shoulders.

  "How did it go?" Smythe said.

  "Badly," Norbert said. "Three more dead."

  "What was that loud noise?"

  "We were trying to create a distraction so we wouldn't have to kill anybody."

  Smythe frowned.

  "There was a secret basement," Tawni said. "They were definitely making monkey machines. Aaron's information was good after all."

  The prisoner was starting to wake up. He opened his eyes and looked at his captors with a startled expression. He began to yell in Russian.

  Smythe punched him in the stomach. "Shut up."

  The prisoner coughed. He pulled against the ropes on his wrists and ankles as he struggled to inhale.

  "It's time to call Aaron," Smythe said. "He won't be happy about the sloppy work."

  He walked off to make his call.

  Tawni looked down at the prisoner. He had a pale face with an angular bone structure. A poorly trimmed mustache and beard gave him a rough appearance. He had a stubborn, defiant expression.

  She took out a knife and dragged the tip across his throat, leaving a deep scratch. "What's your name?" she whispered.

  He tightened his jaw.

  She moved the knife to his thigh and slid it upwards. When she reached his groin, he stiffened.

  "Name."

  He swallowed. "Mikhail."

  "Hold tight, Mikhail. We'll get to you in a minute." She winked.

  He shuddered.

  * * *

  Neville Cantrell nodded with satisfaction. Everybody at the party seemed to be having a grand time. The men were wearing expensive suits, the women had squeezed into skimpy dresses, and the drinks were flowing like water. Cantrell knew the names of most of the people. He couldn't call any of them friends because he didn't really have friends. They were his business associates and favored employees.

  The party was happening on an outdoor patio behind the Pot of Gold Casino. The patio tiles were bright yellow with flecks of pyrite which looked like gold. It was a sticky night. He now realized he should've moved the party to an indoor location with air-conditioning, but it wasn't a big deal. The warmth was like a relaxing sauna. He appreciated how the moonlight played across the women's bare shoulders.

  A short man with gray hair approached. He was one of the bankers that had funded the construction of the casino.

  Cantrell faced him. "Hi, Robert. Having a good time?"

  "A great time," Robert said.

  "I'm glad."

  "You must be excited about tomorrow. The grand opening at last. Your wildly ambitious vision is fulfilled. It seems like only yesterday we were breaking ground."

  "I'm sure you're even more excited," Cantrell said. "I'll finally start paying back some of the loans you gave me."

  "It's the bank's money, not mine, so I don't have personal feelings about it, but two hundred million dollars is a lot. My superiors are eager to see those payments."

  "Don't worry. Once those doors open, I'll have more cash on hand than the Bureau of Engraving and Printing. You'll get every penny you're owed."

  Robert smiled. "Good."

  "Are you going to visit the casino after we open? You'll get VIP treatment, of course."

  "I'm not much of a gambler. I'd rather just collect int
erest."

  "Spoken like a true banker," Cantrell said.

  A tall man with very broad shoulders hurried over. His chest was so big, he couldn't button his suit properly. A sculpted beard was the only hair on his pale head.

  "Sir," he said quietly in a Russian accent, "you have an urgent call."

  He handed a phone to Cantrell.

  Cantrell frowned and walked to a quiet corner of the patio. "Yes?"

  "This is Konstantin. There is trouble at the factory." His accent was so thick, it was hard to understand him.

  "What kind of trouble?"

  "Two of my men disappeared," Konstantin said. "Three were killed. The intruders probably saw the basement. There was also a car fire."

  "How is this possible? Your soldiers are supposed to be the toughest, nastiest sons of bitches in the world. That's why I pay you so much fucking money to protect my interests." Cantrell's head was throbbing with anger.

  "We are even more upset and embarrassed than you. This month's bill will be reduced as our way of apologizing. What should we do about the factory?"

  Cantrell rolled his head back and looked up at the sky. Haze in the air made it hard to see the stars.

  "Hello?" Konstantin said.

  "Burn it to the ground. Destroy every bit of evidence. I'll build my machines here in my new casino."

  "What about the workers?"

  "Burn them, too," Cantrell said. "No loose ends. For all we know, one of them could be an informant. This smells like an inside job."

  "It will be taken care of immediately. Good night."

  Cantrell ended the call. He glared at the crowd of partiers as he contemplated this disturbing news. It seemed a very dangerous enemy had joined the game. The worst part was that he had no clue who it might be.

  He dialed another number.

  A man with a familiar voice answered, "Hello?" His name was Sterling Ford.

  "This is Neville," Cantrell said.

  "What's wrong?"

  "I had some trouble tonight."

  "What kind?" Ford said.

  "The violent kind."

  "Oh."

  "You're supposed to be my early warning system," Cantrell said. "What have you heard?"

  "Nothing. Not a peep."

  "I was hit by professionals who made my professionals look like chumps."

  "They weren't from the agency," Ford said. "I know that for a fact. I'll make some quiet inquiries though."

  "Very quiet."

  "Of course. It would help if you gave me some specific details."

  "You don't need to know details," Cantrell said.

  "Then I guess we're done talking. Bye."

  Cantrell threw the phone against the ground, shattering it.

  * * *

  Smythe returned from his phone call.

  "What did the boss say?" Tawni said.

  "He was pissed," Smythe said. "Tonight's assignment was surveillance, not mayhem. He'll chew us out when we get back. In the meantime, he wants us to interrogate this prisoner. Then we'll go back to the factory and continue to observe."

  She nodded. "Are you doing the interrogation?"

  "No, you are."

  "Me?"

  "You're Aaron's protégé," he said, "his beautiful, black demon. Inflicting pain comes naturally to you."

  Tawni drew back. "Is that how you think of me?"

  "He's very proud of you."

  She pondered that statement. She wasn't aware of special treatment, but she didn't have any reference points. Before Aaron, she had never had a strong, male figure in her life.

  "What about Norbert?" Tawni said.

  Smythe shook his head. "He doesn't have the right kind of savagery in him. I heal. Norbert protects. You destroy. You're a natural interrogator."

  She turned to Norbert.

  "It's true," he said quietly. "You're just like Aaron."

  She raised her eyebrows in surprise. These revelations were new to her, but on reflection, they seemed accurate. She and Aaron had a special bond which couldn't be expressed in words.

  Tawni turned her attention back to Mikhail. "Are you going to cooperate?"

  He spat in her face.

  She wiped it off. "Let's move him to a place where nobody will hear him scream."

  Chapter Nine

  "Do you want a couple of pieces of advice?" Norbert said.

  "Sure," Tawni replied in an uncertain tone.

  "Don't inflict critical injuries. You need him alive and awake until he talks, and that could take a while. Maybe all night. Excessive bleeding is a problem."

  "Makes sense." She nodded. "What else?"

  "Interrogation is a battle of wills. If the subject thinks you're weak, he'll be strong. The nastier you are, the quicker this will go. Be a total bitch."

  She took a deep breath and walked over to Mikhail. The prisoner was lying on his back. His hands were tied to one tree, and his feet were tied to another. The taut ropes stretched his body and made him completely vulnerable. He was also naked. He had tried to escape earlier, and as a result, his face was bruised and two ribs were broken.

  The interrogation was taking place in a golf course near Muncie. The manicured greens looked like black velvet in the night. Mikhail was in the rough, and tall, stiff grass was poking him in the back.

  Tawni wasn't sure how to begin. Aaron hadn't given her any training in interrogation techniques.

  A wave of tingling pain swept through her body, and she recognized it as God's anger. It hurt much worse than ever before. The burn settled in her muscles and bones, consuming weakness and giving back strength. She wanted to cry out in agony and moan with pleasure at the same time. The blood in her veins felt like liquid fire.

  She looked at her hands. Shadows were clinging to her skin like sheets of smoke. They rippled and swirled. She didn't know what it meant, but she liked it.

  Tawni drew a sharp knife from a sheath on her belt. I know how to be a total bitch.

  She knelt over Mikhail. "I'm not going to ask you any questions. You already know what you need to tell me. When you're ready, you'll talk freely."

  "Who are you?" he said in a deep Russian accent.

  "That's not important. What matters is what I'll do to you."

  She used the tip of her knife to dig a tiny piece of skin out of his stomach. He gasped but didn't speak. A drop of blood oozed out of the injury.

  "When I was a child," she said, "my mother told me about God."

  She extracted another bit of flesh. He clenched his jaw and his cheek twitched.

  Tawni continued, "She said God is omnipotent. That means He can do anything he wants. There are no limits to His power. But it's not true. Sometimes things don't go His way."

  She continued to nibble away at Mikhail with her knife. She barely punctured the skin each time. A line of tiny wounds was forming on his bare stomach.

  "Why are you telling me this?" he said in a tense voice.

  "So you understand. God is like us in some ways. He gets frustrated, disappointed, and angry. Do you know what happens then?" She sliced away a little piece of his shoulder.

  "No."

  She leaned down and whispered in his ear, "God makes monsters like me."

  He looked into her eyes. His bravado vanished in an instant.

  "My mother told me something else," she said. "She believed God was pure good. Everything He does is fair and kind. That's not true either. He created this universe and put plenty of evil in it."

  She playfully sliced off the tip of his nose. His eyes watered, and he squirmed.

  "So," she said, "even though I serve God with all my heart, that doesn't mean I'm a nice person."

  The tendons in his arms were taut as he strained against the ropes. She sawed with her knife until she cut one of the biceps tendons. The muscle bunched into a lumpy ball. The bleeding was worse than she wanted, and she told herself to slow down.

  He groaned.

  "I'm not nice at all," she said softly.

 
She cut off a chunk of his lip. He screamed a little, which made her smile. She was making progress.

  "You can't break me," he said through his teeth.

  "I disagree."

  "I have survived the frozen wastelands of Siberia and the back alleys of Chechnya. I have ripped out the guts of my enemies with my bare hands. There is no fear in me."

  "It sounds like you're a soldier," she said.

  "The best."

  "That's interesting. I'm a soldier, too."

  He spat. "A woman?"

  "Yes." Tawni sliced off a piece of his ear.

  The shadows were slithering around her hands like snakes. They seemed eager to participate, and she began to understand what God wanted her to do. This was a special night.

  Mikhail tried to move his head away from her knife. "Go back to your babies."

  "The difference between us is I accept fear. It serves a purpose. It tells me when I could be making a mistake. For example, you're making a mistake right now." She held up her hand, and it was sheathed in flowing darkness.

  His eyes widened.

  She whispered, "There are much worse things than the frozen wastelands of Siberia and the back alleys of Chechnya. Feel God's rage."

  She covered his mouth with her hand. The shadows instantly slipped down his throat. Every muscle in his body locked up, and his eyes bulged. He was trying to scream, but no sound came out.

  She watched him suffer for a little while, and the only noise was the insects buzzing. The feeling of power made her giddy. For the first time, she truly felt like one of God's elite warriors.

  Finally, she withdrew her shadows. He gasped and coughed so hard his whole body shook.

  "Fearful, yet?" she murmured.

  He yanked on the ropes with desperate strength. She caressed his cheek, and he screeched in fear.

  "What the hell are you?!"

  "Just a woman who needs information," she said. "Talk to me."

  She passed her hand across his face and left a trail of murky darkness which slowly dissipated.

  "I don't know anything!" he yelled.

  "Who do you work for?"

  He clamped his mouth shut.

  She covered his eyes with her hand, and her shadows went into his eyeballs.

  He screamed loudly enough to startle her. "Stop!" he cried. "Please! It burns!"

  She took her hand away.

  "I can't see anything." He looked left and right frantically. "It's all black. I'm blind!"