Survivor
Page 17
"I think our star is waking up." Rick's voice.
Fuck. Al struggled to open his eyes. Fuck no, luck no, luckno-
He got his eyes open and tried to sit up, but the rope binding his arms to his sides prevented him from doing so.
At first he couldn't see much; his vision was blurred and doubled. He blinked and the first thing that swam into his vision was Rick Shectman, leaning forward, grin ning at him. "Well, well! You're awake! Good, good! Now maybe we can proceed further, yes?"
A wave of nausea washed over Al and he felt the urge to vomit. He could hardly breathe; his nose was clogged with mucus and dried blood; it felt broken, too.
Rick turned to his right. Tim?"
Tim stepped forward and headed to Al's feet. He wouldn't look at Al. Tim reached down and picked up Al's feet by the ankles. Al saw that his legs were bound, too.
"What. " Al croaked.
"Save your voice and your energy," Rick purred. He leaned over Al's head as he gripped him under the armpits. Rick and Tim hoisted Al up and carried him to the other side of the print shop and laid him down on a sheet of black plastic.
"What…" Al started again, realization setting in. "No… what… what's going.. "
Then Al saw Animal.
While Al had lain unconscious, Jeff had slipped into the role of Animal. He had shed his casual attire and now stood in the corner, completely naked except for his black bondage mask.
And the tremendous strap-on dildo that he had fastened around his waist at the groin.
With the seven-inch steel blade affixed to the plastic phallus.
Al sucked in air and began screaming, wiggling like a fish out of water as he tried to escape. His throat was dry, so his screams came out sounding like raspy squawks. Rick and Tim held him down while Animal stepped forward. Al's eyes bugged out of their sockets. "No, please don't, please don't do this, nopleasedon't- dothis-"
"I just have two questions for you, Mr. Pressman," Rick Shectman said. He stood up and planted one booted foot on Al's chest. He pressed his weight down, pinning Al to the floor.
Al didn't hear him. All he could see was Animal standing behind Tim, who held his feet down. Animal's eyes were indifferent, without compassion. It was almost as if he didn't even know the man behind the mask anymore, as if five years of working together side by side had all been obliterated.
"'IWo things," Rick said, peering down at Al. "The woman. He pressed more of his weight down on Al's chest. "She left vital information: Social Security card, driver's license, credit card, checkbook, wallet, photos of her husband and family. Her purse, perhaps. Where is it?"
"My bag," Al said quickly, huffing for breath. "Front seat of my car."
Rick turned to Tim. "Get it."
Tim left his position and went to get Al's bag.
Al ceased struggling for a moment and tried to make eye contact with Rick. "It's there," he said. "I can get her easily. Animal and me, we'll get her."
"I'm sure you will." Rick smiled.
Al's thoughts were racing. He swore to — God that he would never fuck up again. Christ, when this was all over he was never going to work for Rick Shectman and Sam Bash again, period. All he had to do was stay calm and when Tim came back with the purse he would show Rick. The Ruskie would see that nabbing Lisa would be easy. Shit, he'd do it tonight if Rick wanted him to. He'd go down to Orange County and snag the bitch himself. He didn't care if anybody saw him or not. He didn't give a fuck if he had to face jail time-doing time was preferable than facing Animal.
"When Tim comes back, I'll go down and get her," Al said, putting a plan to action. He licked his lips. "Let Animal come with me, we'll get her. She's probably still traumatized by what happened anyway. We'll go down there, case the place out, break in this evening when her and her hubby are asleep. We'll kill the husband first thing, get him out of the way and then-"
Tim returned with the bag. "Here it is," he said, handing it over to Rick, who opened it and began rifling through the contents.
"Ah," Rick said, smiling as he lifted a yellow bulky wallet out of the bag. He flipped through it. His features beamed. "Ah! Wonderful! Driver's license, credit cards, pictures, the whole works! Wow!" He peered at Lisa's photo on her driver's license. "Pretty lady."
Tim retreated out of Al's line of vision for a moment as Rick looked at the contents of Lisa's wallet. Al didn't know what he was doing, but he could hear the fat man fiddling around with something. Animal stood in front of him, looking psyched up for bloodshed.
"Wonderful!" Rick set the wallet down on a workbench. The room grew brighter and Al felt the temperature grow slightly warmer. He immediately recognized the source of both the light and the rise in heat; Tim had turned on the lighting equipment he used during shoots.
Al craned his head around, trying to see where Tim was. His panic was rising. "Hey, come on! I told you where the wallet was-"
"One more thing," Rick said, ignoring him as he stepped into Al's line of vision again. "What were the instructions Sam gave you?"
Al felt his stomach muscles clench; his balls wanted to crawl up into his groin. He licked his lips and tried to keep eye contact with Rick. He wanted to show the man that he was beat. He had learned his lesson. "He said to film Animal doing whatever bitch Tim brought, then get rid of the body and deliver the tape."
"Exactly!" Rick said, leaning forward. "And what happened?"
"1 fucked up," Al said, admitting his mistake. Maybe if he admitted his mistake and took responsibility for it, Rick would give him another chance. "1 know I fucked up. I shouldn't have done it. What I did was stupid, but I was thinking of how much we would all benefit from it. I wasn't thinking. I should have. I'm sorry I fucked up, and I'll not only make sure it doesn't happen again, I'll do whatever it takes to fix it."
Rick nodded, seemingly satisfied with Al's confession. "Good for you. I admire a man who admits his weakness."
"It won't happen again, I swear!" Al reiterated.
"I'm sorry, Al," Rick said, kneeling on the floor in front of him, "but I can't take the chance anymore. You're lazy. You're a weak link. I can't afford laziness." "
"/ told you it won't happen again!" Al's voice rose in panic.
Rick shook his head. "How many times have you told me that, Al?"
"77iis is the only time!" Al said, feeling his panic rise. His eyes darted from Tim to Rick, then rested on Animal, who had taken a step forward. The steel blade affixed to the dildo jutted out like a cruel penis. "1 swear to God, it's the only time!"
"You are right about that," Rick said, standing up. 'Ibis is the only time. And it won't happen again."
*1 know it won't happen again," Al said, trying to sweettalk Rick again to convince him that he should be released. "I swear to God it won't happen again, so-"
"Unfortunately, one slip is all it takes for the whole scene to collapse," Rick said, now towering over Al. "Do you know what could have happened if Lisa had been able to lead the police to you? That would have led directly to me! Do you understand?"
"No!" Al protested, his heart hammering in his chest. "I swear to God, I won't say anything!" "
"Bullshit! You'd fuck your own mother over. I know you too well, Pressman.*
No, no, I swear to God, I won't say anything!" Al was frantic now. He began wriggling again and Rick stepped on his chest, driving Al down to the floor with his weight. "Please," Al begged. "Please, I swear to God I'll make it up to you! I won't-"
"Sorry, Al," Rick said. He turned and nodded to Animal. But I can't afford to have a weak link in the business. If I don't deal with it, my clients will."
Animal stepped forward and Tim loomed in front of him. He was holding a syringe. He depressed the plunger and liquid squirted out of the needle. Tim's eyes were indifferent as he bent down and sank the needle into the side of Al's left buttock. "No!" Al yelled, eyes bugged out in stark fear. "Noooo!"
"Relax," Rick said, smiling. "'This isn't going to knock you out. It'll just… how shall I sa
y it? Immobilize you for a moment."
Al struggled, fighting madly as Tim and Rick held him down, trying to yell and scream. Animal stepped forward and rammed a piece of cloth in Al's mouth as he screamed, stifling him. A minute later, Al felt the effect of the drug slow his movements. Thirty seconds later, he was unable to move. Oh God no!
Tim and Rick grabbed Al's legs and spread them apart.
No! Al began to sob as Animal took position between Al's legs. No, please!
And as Tim stepped behind the camera, Animal began to work the blade in, partaking in the work that he liked best.
Twenty-one
The following twenty-four hours was a whirlwind for Brad.
William Grecko spent the night on his sofa. When Brad woke up the next morning, Lisa was still asleep. Brad walked in the kitchen to the smell of perking coffee. Billy was still dressed in the clothes he had worn last night. His hair stuck out like tufts of horns behind his ears. He looked like Dilbert's boss in the Scott Adams cartoons.
"Coffee smells great," Brad said.
"Thanks" William searched through the cabinets and found two mugs. He poured them coffee and set Brad's mug on the table. They sat down at the table. "I've been doing a lot of thinking," he began.
"So have I," Brad said. He took a sip of coffee.
"I'm going to go home real quick and shower and change," William said. He took a sip of coffee and sighed. 'Tben I'm going to the office. I'm going to call Detective Orr and tell him everything you told me last night. Then I'm going to arrange to have him come here today to talk to you and Lisa."
"She's not going to like this," Brad said, clutching the mug with both hands.
"I know, but we have to do it." William's eyes were red from lack of sleep. His stubble looked rough on his cheek. "I'm going to be here when Orr comes over. I'm going to emphasize that you and Lisa are under my pro tection until the guys that did this are caught. I'm going to arrange to have you and Lisa flown out of the city by this evening."
This surprised Brad. "Bitty! Isn't that-"
"A little drastic? Maybe. But I don't want to take the chance. You have to get out of town."
"What if On has other ideas?"
"I'll handle Orr," William said. He took a hearty gulp of coffee. "In the meantime, you're going to have to get ready to be away for a while. It may take a few weeks or so to find these guys."
"It could take months, too," Brad said.
William frowned. "True."
"Suppose Orr doesn't L elieve us?" Brad asked.
"If Orr doesn't believe us, I'll enlist the services of a private detective.!
Brad sighed. He rubbed his face. "Christ, Billy, I don't have that kind of money anymore. All the money in our savings is gone!"
'Don't worry about it," Billy said gently. "I'll bear the costs myself."
"Shit" Brad felt powerless. He hated to have other people pay his way, and the situation he and Lisa were in now made him feel like they were in a bind. He wondered what would happen if he didn't know Billy. He and Lisa would be nowhere. They would have to pick themselves up and run, try to go underground and hide on their own. Brad wouldn't know a thing about living on the lam.
"Where are we going to go?" He asked.
"I'll think of a place," William said.
"What if you can't find these guys?"
`We'll find them!
"No, I don't think you understood me." Brad faced William, feeling desperation rise in him. "I did a lot of thinking about this whole snuff-film business, and the thing I kept thinking was that something so underground and taboo must be hard to crack. Shit, I never thought things like this existed. It has to be so far underground that the average person wouldn't even hear about it. We're average people, so how the hell are we going to catch a group of guys that, by all accounts, even the police can't catch?"
"Leave it to me," Billy said again, and Brad could tell by the look in his eyes that the.lawyer didn't know how they were going to find the men responsible for Lisa's kidnapping and near murder.
Brad drank his coffee, at a loss for words. He felt helpless. He supposed that the best thing to do was to place his and Lisa's lives in the hands of his friend, William Grecko.
When they were finished with their coffee, Billy stood up. "I've got to go. I'll call you in about an hour."
Brad refilled his mug. "I've got to get somebody over here to look after Lisa. I should probably dash out and run a few errands before Detective Orr comes in. Maybe I'll call Lisa's assistant at the office and see if she'll come in."
"Fine," William said. Brad walked him to the front door. "Try not to be too long. If you want, I could have somebody come over."
"I'll be fine," Brad said.
"Okay." William shook Brad's hand. "We'll get through this, buddy. Leave it to me."
When William Grecko left, Brad turned and headed to the bedroom to check on Lisa.
Lisa was still in a sound sleep when Brad checked on her. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. The red digital numerals read five minutes after seven. She had only been asleep for nine hours. She might sleep at least another hour, hopefully. Brad left the door to the bedroom open and went to the second bedroom, which they had converted to a study, sat down at the desk, and turned on the computer.
He sipped his coffee as the computer booted up, thinking. He hadn't been able to sleep at all last night. All he could think about was the story Lisa told him, and'the men who worked in the snuff-film business. And the question that kept popping into his head was Hour could people do this kind of thing?
He found it hard to believe that money would be the primary factor. He knew of some greedy people, but it was hard to believe that people would actually pay to watch somebody being tortured to death for sexual gratification. But then I've heard of equally weird things, he thought. Pedophiles exist. That's a fact. Some people like to fuck dogs and sheep. That's sick as all hell. I guess if that kind of sickness exists, others do, too.
When the PC was up, Brad connected to his Internet service provider, then launched his Web browser. When the browser came up, he typed "snuff films" in the search engine and hit the EWTER key.
The search engine spit out two hundred and fifty-six Web pages dealing with snuff films. The first entry was an article called "Snuff Films: Urban Myths or Grim Reality?" Brad clicked on the hyperlink and brought the page up.
The article in question was on a Web site called APB- news.com, which looked like a news service about crime and law enforcement. Brad read through the article slowly, reading each word as he digested the information. What he read was disturbing and frustrating.
According to the article, the FBI had been looking for snuff films for twenty-five years and hadn't found evi dence of a single one. It also revealed documents the FBI had been maintaining about their search, reporting that despite widespread tales of rape, torture, and murder being committed in front of the camera for monetary gain, the leads all eventually fizzled to nothing.
Brad found the article riveting. According to the story, rumors of snuff films began circulating as early as 1969 when it was suggested that the Manson Family had filmed a murder. A few years later, snuff films were mentioned by a group called "Citizens for Decency Through Law," who claimed that young women were being raped and killed for the pornography industry. The Bureau's Special Crimes Unit, which investigated violations of interstate trafficking of obscene material laws, investigated and found no truth to the story. The rumors of snuff films continued. An FBI memo from February of 1975 showed that an unnamed source tipped the Bureau to the existence of twelve or so snuff films shot on 8-millimeter film. The informant's story fell apart when he later admitted to the Bureau that he had never seen the films himself.
Rumors continued from Atlanta, Chicago, New York, Los Angeles, and Cleveland. The stories were similar. The films were usually rumored to originate from California or Mexico. The victims were always described as being runaways, drifters, or smuggled immigrants.
In the last segment of the film, separate from the movie's plot, the supposed real murder takes place. On the screen, a male member of the film crew tells a previously un-introduced woman, "You know, that last gory scene really turned me on! Other members of the crew then restrain her while the man proceeds to slash the woman with a knife, amputate two of her fingers with bolt cutters, and, finally, reach into her body and pull out her heart. The film runs out and voice-over says: "Did you get all that?" The response is: "Yeah, let's get the hell out of here."
End of credits.
Feminists protested the original theatrical release of the film, and the media hoopla over it caught the attention of law enforcement. Pathologists viewed the film and concluded that the staged murder was a theatrical production and not real. The FBI got interested, and the actress who was killed in the last scene revealed herself to be alive and well. So much for the great snuff-film conspiracy.
Brad shook his head as he read the article. Weird, he thought, as he scrolled down. What he read next chilled him. He read it to himself aloud. -There is legislation currently pending in the California Assembly that would outlaw snuff films along with crush videos, which graphically depict small animals being crushed to death. What the fuck?"
Then he remembered something from a news item a few months before that he and Lisa had seen on television one evening after work. A woman had been tried and convicted of cruelty to animals after videos depict ing her stomping mice to death were discovered. The video had been shot by another party, a male, for a thriv- ing" crush film" industry, which were S&M porn films that depicted actresses in spiked high heels crushing small animals to death. Brad remembered watching that segment with Lisa, making a comment to her along the lines of, "Guess there's not much a pervert will find taboo, huh?" If only he could have foreseen what was to come.