The two men made their way into the kitchen, and Colt walked over to the sink and cleaned the sticky blood off his hands. He used the soap and found a bottle of bleach cleaner underneath the sink. He used more than he needed to, but he knew he had to clean it all off of himself. He walked back over and then leaned against the door frame with his shoulder. He looked on and listened from here on out. This was now Tony’s show, and Colt didn’t want to miss it.
Tony knew Colt didn’t want to be in the business anymore and also that he was getting tired of all the bullshit that came with it. Colt had told Tony a couple of years ago that he wished he’d never even met Gamboni, because the day he met Gamboni, he started the life he now hated to live. Tony scolded him and told him that loyalty came with a reward and that his loyalty was to Gamboni and the family.
Tony walked over to the man and picked up his middle finger on the already bloody hand. The man looked on in terror because he had thought they were finished with the torture session. Tony shoved the knife deep under his nail. The man screamed and thrashed again and again, jerking on the tape and trying to outrun the pain. Tony didn’t say a word. He picked up the man’s pointer finger and repeated the horrible act.
The man continued to scream louder and louder as Tony finished off his other six fingers. Colt watched in confusion as Tony tortured the man … but never asked a question. Tony set the knife down on the counter and turned the water on in the sink. He cleaned the blood off his hands and then dried them on a towel hanging from the front of the stove. He placed the towel back on the stove handle and opened several drawers before pulling out a solid metal meat cleaver.
When he made it to the man, he said, “I know that he and I do things a little differently, but you’ll have to be patient with me. I am still learning.” Tony looked at Colt and winked. Colt gathered a grin on his face and placed his hand up to his mouth as he leaned on the door frame. Tony placed the meat cleaver down at his side, leaned down, and asked the man, “So what makes you think Berto was smart enough to come up with this all alone?”
The man paused for several minutes as he tried to catch his breath before answering. “He was told that he’d be the boss after it was all over.” His voice was weak from the pain of the torture.
Tony raised the heavy object and slammed it down, shattering the bones in the man’s right hand. “That’s not what the fuck I asked you! I asked you what made you think he was smart enough to come up with all of this on his own.”
Still screaming from the sheer agony, the man answered, “He wasn’t. He had help from the FBI guy. He took orders from him. Berto didn’t think about stuff like that. He was just a big dumbass who believed everything he was told.”
“So he talked to the guy on a regular basis?”
“I never asked him how often they talked. He just told me what the guy told him to do. He said that when the guy got back from being out of town, all of the pieces would fall into place and he’d be the one in charge soon.”
“I don’t believe the pieces fell together after all for Berto,” Tony said as he spun on his heels and looked at the bloody body on the floor. Tony looked back at his victim and placed the cleaver on the counter. He picked up the small knife again and placed it up to the man’s throat. He pressed the knife hard against his throat as the man moved his head back to retreat from the inevitable. Tony followed his motion with the knife, and a drop of blood began to trickle down his neck.
“Do you have anything else you think we should know … something that may keep you alive?” Tony asked.
The man didn’t move anything but his mouth as he answered, “I’ve told you all that I know. Except that Berto was supposed to meet the guy tomorrow when he got back.”
“When did Berto tell you this?”
“Today. He said that he talked to his guy today and that he wanted him to make his move now.”
“Wait a minute … Berto talked to the FBI guy today?”
“Yeah, that’s what he said. Now I’ve told you all that I know. I swear I have!”
“Then I guess I’m done talking to ya,” Tony said as he pulled the knife away from the man’s throat. He walked over to the knife block and pulled the largest knife from it. He held it up and laid the small knife on the counter. He walked back to the man, and without blinking an eye, grabbed the man’s forehead with his left hand and forced it back. The man choked from the pressure on his throat. His throat was completely exposed now. Tony slid the knife across, pressing it into the flesh and through his esophagus and down to the neck bone. The man’s head stayed back as Tony removed his hand. The jerks and movements that followed were simply his nerves as life left his body in the river of blood flowing out of his neck.
Colt approached and looked at the result. The scene didn’t disturb him as he examined the man’s last throes … “Do you think there is another FBI agent working with Berto?” Colt asked as he removed a piece of the fleshy meat left dangling from the man’s skin.
“No, I think the FBI guy had him all worked up and set the plan into motion. When he was out of the picture and in jail, Berto followed the plan and got sloppy. I think it’s over now,” Tony said as he made his way over to the sink and washed the knives and then his hands. Blood is a hard thing to clean up, and investigators know tricks to find it when people believe it is cleaned up and gone. Something more than bleach would have to be used to clean up this mess.
“Well, I’m glad that you were here, brother. I needed your help, and you came through for me again. And just in case I haven’t told you yet, I owe you my life now, Tony.”
“You owe me nothing, Colt. I know you’ve wanted out for a while. There’s no reason you should have to do this anymore. So take the family on a well-deserved vacation and then you’ll remember what it’s like to be a father and husband again. You are now able to get out, and no one knows who you once were. I’ll clean all this mess up. You need to get the hell out of here and appreciate life now.”
“You think I’ll remember how to be a regular guy again?”
“I don’t know … but we’ve all thought about getting out once or twice, and, well, given the chance … I’d like to think that I’d make the same choice as you, Colt.”
“Okay, man, I’ll be seein’ ya. And thanks again for all your help, Tony.” Colt stuck his hand out and shook Tony’s. A gentle pat on the back and an accepting look from Tony and his career as a hit man was finally over. He turned and walked out the door. After looking around and seeing Tony’s goons on patrol, he was relieved. He made his way around the house and then to his car. He opened the car door and climbed in.
He closed the door and then took a deep breath of relief. He had been regretting ever beginning this life for a long time now, and it was finally over.
He pulled his cell phone from the console and checked the screen for any missed calls. There was nothing, so he called Emily. As he started the car and made his way out of the drive for the last time, he heard the sweetest words ever spoken. “My baby!” Emily’s voice said as she answered his call.
“Oh, my love … I have the greatest news for us,” he said with a cheer in his voice—a cheer that Emily hadn’t heard in a long time.
“Really, honey? What good news do you have for your beautiful wife?”
“That you are married to a man who loves you more than any word ever written could describe.”
“Aww … I knew that already, honey.”
“Your husband loves you so much that he is now retired and wants to spend every moment with you and our baby girl!”
Emily was quiet and then he could hear sniffles from the tears that were evident through the phone line. “So it’s all over now, baby?” she asked.
“Yes, my love. I am a free man now. No more corporate bullshit and no more having to go out of town for meetings and no more time away from my family. Hell
… no more having coffee with clients. It’s all over now.”
“Oh my God, that is the very best news I’ve ever heard. I love you so very much, my husband.”
“And I love you too, my beautiful wife. You and Hanna come on home so we can catch up on some you-and-me time. Hee hee.”
“Mmm … okay, honey, I’ll leave first thing in the morning and I’ll see you around noon. I love you!”
“I love you too. Tell baby girl that Daddy loves her and I’ll see her tomorrow.”
“Okay, honey I’ll tell her. I know she misses you too. You’re all she can talk about. Good night, my love.”
“Good night and sweet dreams,” he said and then hung up the phone. Colt was ecstatic about seeing his wife for the first time as a free man. He was happy that there wouldn’t be any more calls in the middle of the night. He was glad that he could be the family man he had tried so hard to be for so long.
He was glad he didn’t have to fight with the killer inside of him to be a good man anymore. Colt enjoyed killing because he needed to find comfort in what he had to do. He wasn’t born a killer … but he was made to kill, and found comfort in it after a while.
He made his way home and then tidied up the house so that Emily wouldn’t have to do anything when she arrived home the next day. He hadn’t been there much in her absence, so a few dishes and a little bit of laundry was his main focus. He ran the vacuum over the floor in the den and his study and made sure everything was in its place before he turned the light off and went to bed.
Chapter 28
The scene of the explosion at the dry docks was now total chaos. The coroner’s office and the crime lab technicians from each of the agencies involved were there, and each department felt as if they had precedence over the other to take charge of the scene. Linda was searching the scene for pieces of bone and flesh that were missing from Special Agent Carnes. The bodies of Carmine and Martin were already in bags and being loaded up into the coroner’s vans. Carnes, however, was a different case altogether. His body was almost cut in half from the explosion.
Linda made her way over and watched the DEA’s crime lab take photos of the body and of the container as well. It was obvious that enough explosives had been set off to generate plenty of evidence. The doors of the container were blown apart, tearing the steel apart; the only thing that remained was a one-by-four-foot piece of the top of the left door. The right door and the missing piece of the left door were strewn across the scene. The Suburban had been destroyed by the shrapnel of the flying metal, and pieces of flesh and blood covered the side facing the container. The windshield on the front of the Suburban was shattered, and a large piece of the green metal, now blackened from the blast, protruded out of it. The two tires on the side that took the main part of the explosion were melted from heat and the percussion of the blast.
Linda watched as the technicians finished up, and then she entered the barrier tape so she could perform her assessment of the scene. She looked at what was left of Carnes and took several measurements of the body’s placement, making notation of the damage caused by the explosion.
After she was finished, she exited the barrier surrounding the scene and walked to her car. She was writing her initial field report when she heard a knock on her window. She looked to see a man standing near the car door. He was wearing a dark blue Windbreaker that said “FBI” in large yellow letters on the front left lapel. The FBI agent was a short, chubby man with bad posture and a five o’clock shadow from not having shaved recently. She rolled her window down and asked, “What can I do for you?”
“I have a couple of questions for you, ma’am. I am Special Agent Archer of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I am the agent in charge of this investigation for the FBI.”
“Okay, Special Agent Archer, what can I answer for you?”
“What would you say the cause of death was for Agent Carnes, Commander Martin, and Detective Carmine?”
Linda closed her eyes and arched her brow. She knew the cause of death was very evident in each case, and that was one of the dumbest questions that anyone could ask. “Umm … I would say that my initial assessment would make the cause of death to Agent Carnes blunt force trauma from a large steel door hitting him in the head as it was thrown from the container after a large explosion blew it off its hinges. The same for Commander Martin, and Detective Carmine was killed when the shrapnel from the blast entered his chest cavity, penetrating his lungs and therefore drowning him in his own blood.”
“Okay, so you’d assume that any of the men killed here weren’t shot or hurt in any other way before the explosion?”
“Umm … I would say that I do not know if they were shot or hurt before the explosion. It will take an autopsy to make those kinds of discoveries and then draw the conclusions. Why would you assume they had been shot or hurt before the explosion?”
“Oh … I’m not assuming anything at all, ma’am. I’m simply making sure there is a clear cause of death. And if there was a clear cause of death, that it will be in your report.”
“Agent Archer, I can’t answer that question honestly at this point. But if you believe there was another cause of death, maybe you should have your agency order an autopsy on the bodies and I will have an answer for you when I have completed them. But I will initially assess the cause of death to be what I just explained.” Linda looked back down at the report.
“I am not assuming that anyone was shot or hurt. It is on my list of standard questions that I am supposed to ask. Do you believe there is any evidence to support their being shot or hurt before the explosion?”
“No. At this point in the investigation, I cannot say that there is any evidence to support the idea that they were shot or hurt before the explosion.”
“Okay then, thank you for your time,” Archer said, and then he turned and walked away. Linda was confused and a bit taken aback by the question he had asked her. But she also knew that government agencies are not prone to using common sense when investigating a crime.
She had had enough experience dealing with the FBI and other government agencies to know that they were run through the investigation school like a herd of cattle through a sale barn. They couldn’t learn the things that they needed to do a very thorough job of investigation in a school. It took experience in the field to learn those techniques. They were taught to read off a list of questions, and Agent Archer looked old enough to have the experience. Nevertheless … he had asked the standard question, even though he was heading up an investigation of the death of three men.
Linda blew off the stupid line of questioning and finished her initial report. She then drove out of the dry docks and made her way to her office and inside. The bodies of Martin and Carmine arrived soon after she did. She had the techs place the bodies onto two separate examination tables and remove them from the body bags. Martin was the worse of the two. His head was severely damaged from the trauma he had suffered. His left eye was gone and was found at the scene approximately twelve feet away from the body, with the optic nerves still attached. His lower jaw had nearly been ripped off and was hanging on only by the flesh and connective tissue that held it to his neck.
His right arm and chest cavity were both severely damaged as well. Linda named blunt force trauma the cause of death because of the explosion. Carmine was placed on another viewing table. His injuries weren’t nearly as bad as Martin’s were. His face was beat up pretty badly, and his chest was damaged as well.
Because Carmine’s injuries weren’t as evident as Martin’s, Linda was required to dig more deeply to find a definite cause of death. She began by a thorough examination of the body’s posterior. She then had the body turned again so that she could examine the anterior as well. After she had determined that there were no definite answers on the exterior of the body, she prepped Carmine’s body for an autopsy.
She took a bone s
aw from the cabinet and made a long incision in the center of his chest. Pressing hard with the saw, but never rushing its progress, she opened the chest cavity by splitting the breastbone the rest of the way with a breast ax. She then gained access to the internal organs, using the crude tool that ratchets and forces the bones away from each other. The damage to his lungs was very evident as she removed the protective sac that housed them. His left lung resembled bright red Jell-O. The blood ran out of the chest cavity as if it were water from a faucet that had suddenly been turned on. She leaned the body toward her and let the blood drain into a trench surrounding the edge of the examination table. The trench ran the length of the table and then finally ran into a collection tub at the base of the table for later disposal.
His face was damaged, but not so badly that he was no longer recognizable. She dug around in Carmine’s chest and looked for other damage. She pulled out three small pieces of metal that resembled crude carving tools. She searched the chest cavity and lower torso for any other damages, but decided that his death was caused by shrapnel from the explosion entering his lungs and causing the blood to suffocate him. She sewed his chest together and then placed a sheet over the body. She had her techs clean up the blood and get both bodies ready for the families to view and claim them.
She waited a while for Martin and Carmine’s families to arrive and view the bodies. Mrs. Carmine was the first to arrive at the Dallas County Morgue. She entered the room and was clearly a wreck. She had evidently received a call from someone who worked with her husband; these calls are never comforting to the recipient. Her husband was lying dead on a coroner’s table, and her responsibility now was to go and claim the body. The loss of her husband was devastating. She had recently dealt with the fact that her children’s father was a cross-dressing freak who allowed their children to find him after committing suicide. The torment her children felt when they remembered finding him dead was something she would have to deal with forever. Now her husband and life partner was dead, and she had no one else to comfort her.
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