by Jon F. Merz
"Not exactly."
"Excuse me?"
"If you’d done what you were trained to do, you would have executed the Council member for his crimes."
Petrov smiled. "You have a point?"
"Do I need one? We aren’t here to discuss your past actions. For all I know, you might have wanted to expose that Council member as a way to earn more stars. But I don’t really care about that. Them putting you out to the pasture doesn’t give you the right to turn against the laws you helped protect."
"Doesn’t it? What if I felt those laws were a sham? Obviously, if they only apply to some of our society, what good are they at all?"
"Because they help keep order. Without them, we’d perish."
"Oh, Lawson, that is such naiveté."
"Is it? Do you really believe human society would integrate and accept vampires as part of its own? We’re fundamentally different and yet we share a common ancestry. But the differences are too great. We’d be hunted down."
"We don’t know that."
"It’s not something we have to experience to figure out if it’s true or not."
Petrov clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth making a popping noise. "I see we are at a bit of an impasse on that topic anyway."
"All right then, let’s move on. Who are you working for?"
"Where is the boy?"
I looked at him and he at me. "He’s safe," I said at last.
"That’s not what I asked, Lawson."
"But that is what I answered. Your turn."
"I’m working for some incredibly powerful people, Lawson. Much more powerful than you could imagine."
"Tell me who."
"Where is the Invoker?"
I shook my head. "Forget it. I’ll figure it out anyway. Eventually. You know I will."
"Yes." He sighed. "I knew you would be difficult. I actually hoped to get in and out of this city without interacting with you. I’ve seen your service record, Lawson. I know what a formidable opponent you can be. Butting heads with you is not the preferable option here."
"What is?"
"You letting me get my job done."
"Not in my town, Petrov."
"My employers are wealthy. Could you be tempted with money?"
"You asked me that question already."
"I’m asking it again."
"The I’ll give you the same response. If you really saw my service record you already know the answer to that question."
"Well, it was worth a shot." He leveled the gun on me. "You don’t leave me much choice."
I felt the goon behind me move away, giving Petrov clearance for the shot. I shifted. "You’re going to shoot me?"
"You have a better plan?"
"You can’t kill me, Petrov. You need me to find the boy. Otherwise you still lose."
"You don’t think I could find the boy on my own without your help?"
"Maybe you could, but it’d take far too long. You said yourself you want to be done with this and get out of here. Boston’s a pretty big town. I could have stashed the kid anywhere and you’d never find him."
The gun lowered slightly. "You are right, of course. I probably would not be able to find him. It would take me weeks of searching. And I am not the most patient man."
I nodded.
He smiled. "Which is exactly why I am going to shoot you."
The gun came up and even as I started to move, I heard the muffled pop – suppressor? - and felt the impact center mass in my chest.
Heat blossomed, spreading the pain-
and I was already
trip
falling
to
the
floor
-gone.
Chapter Fourteen
When I woke up, I wasn’t in a soft white linen hospital bed.
Nor was I surrounded by a fleet of buxom nurses dressed in those great uniforms of yore.
So much for this being a dream.
Instead, it felt like my entire body was being dragged inch by inch over a bed of nails and broken shards of glass. Possibly with the oil of chili peppers smeared over the points and edges.
I felt that good.
My head swam lazy circles around a giant buzzing sound that seemed rooted to the space between my ears. My eyes took forever to focus.
I guessed whatever Petrov shot me with, it was one helluva powerful tranquilizer. It would have had to be, to take out a vampire.
As awareness seeped back into my body, pins and needles shot along my arms. I tried to flex, but realized my hands were shackled to metal grate and then the wall behind me. My arms and legs were akimbo.
Even with my eyes closed, I knew we weren’t in my house anymore. I don’t like dungeons and S&M has never done a damned thing for me.
I tried opening my eyes again. Light poured in, making me squint hard to shield myself. That must have been part of the reason why my head hurt so much. There was a zillion candle power light fixated on my skull.
My tongue felt thick and heavy. I smacked my lips a few times and got a bucket of water thrown in my face as a reward. I shook my head and tried to get some of the water into my mouth.
The air smelled cold and dry, but musty. We must have been deep underground.
"Lawson, nice of you to join us at long last."
I coughed a bit, but kept my head down. "Wanna turn of that fucking light so I can see?"
Petrov chuckled and I thought I sensed more than one person in here with him. "Not just yet, Lawson. Maybe if you tell us what we need to know, maybe then I’ll turn them off."
"Who’s we?"
"Some people very interested in your little friend. Now are you going to help us?"
"Can’t do much for you with that light giving me a severe headache. Turn it off. Then we’ll see."
I heard whispering and some of it seemed strained. Finally there was a pause and I heard a click. The blinding light went away. I blinked a few times and finally raised my head.
Stone walls surrounded me on all sides except for a doorway to my left. A dim electric bulb burned overhead, casting a pathetic amount of light in the room. That was okay with me, I preferred the darkness. Behind me, I could hear water running down the wall from when I’d been doused.
In front of me, Petrov stood alone.
"Your team sure vanished fast. Where’d they go?"
"It would probably be better if you did not see them, Lawson. Anonymity is priceless, don’t you agree?"
"I wouldn’t know. I can’t seem to keep strangers out of my house."
He chuckled. "I enjoy your sense of humor, you know that? Has anyone ever told you your mirth is one of your best qualities?"
"Just a few people I killed."
"And the way you dead-pan…amazing." He clapped his hands together. "Now, really, Lawson. In all seriousness, I need to know where you have stowed the boy."
"Thanks for turning out the light. But forget it."
He shook his head. "I am not a cruel man. I hope you can understand that." He walked around me. I tried to follow his movements but my head only turns so far.
He stopped again in front of me. "But alas, I do have a job here and you are making things much more difficult than they have to be." He leaned closer to me. "The mission must succeed. I know you understand that, don’t you?"
"Whatever."
"You know that I have to do what I have to do to get what I need."
He had a way with words and I suspected he’d done a lot of work into hypnotic speech. My head continued swimming from the drugs. That and the fact that I was manacled to the wall didn’t make me optimistic about my current situation.
Petrov’s face loomed closer to mine. "Lawson, can you really blame me for feeling the way I feel? Can you discount the rage I felt when the Council turned on me? After everything I’d done for them, after all the sacrifices I made all those years. You know what I’m talking about, you’ve done the same. How would you feel if it happened to you?"
"It’s never happened to me."
"You’ve never felt any rage toward the Council?"
"So what if I have? You and I are completely different. There is nothing that would ever make me sell out what I’ve worked my whole life for."
"We’re not so different, Lawson."
"I’m willing to bet that we are."
The slap smacked my jaw and sent my head slamming into the metal grate behind me. Petrov could hit. I saw stars briefly, tasted the coppery tinge of blood in my mouth. I worked some saliva around with my tongue to coagulate it faster.
"That the best you got?"
Petrov chuckled. "That hurt you. I know it did."
I said nothing. Was there really much to say?
Petrov sighed. "Very well, Lawson, you leave me no alternative." He clapped his hands once.
A door opened to my left side and I saw two men enter. They were two of the guys I’d knocked out outside of my house. I should have killed them.
One of them rolled in something that looked like an old gasoline generator, complete with the pull string starter. They positioned this close enough to the metal grate so that two cables could be clamped to my rack with giant alligator clips.
Then the other man placed his hand on my forehead and pushed it back into the metal frame. His friend affixed a leather bandanna and tied it so my head was tight against the frame.
This was not looking good.
I’ve never had the pleasure of getting acquainted with torture. With good reason. My work dictates the ability to get in, do the job, and get out before anyone knows that I’ve been there. I make the kills neat and quick. Capture isn’t something that I’m ever in the mood for.
When I’d gone through Fixer training, torture was a subject they touched on only briefly. And what they told us hit home pretty hard. Basically, what it came to down to what that everyone has their limit. No one lasts forever. Eventually, you break. A skillful torturer knows just how far he can take his victim and then hovers at that point between where the pain becomes too intense and they fall into merciful unconsciousness and where it is sheer agony. Then the endless repetition of questioning begins, the pain grows and subsides in waves. In the end, it’s all you can do to keep breathing, let alone hold onto secrets.
Petrov knew this since he’d gone through the same kind of training I had. But I also suspected he might have some nasty shit up his sleeve since he’d served behind the Iron Curtain. During the Cold War years, the Communists had devised some pretty nefarious techniques for information extraction.
Electrocution torture would produce massive pain. But Petrov had to be careful at the same time. He could easily shock my heart into arrhythmia and I could turn into a vegetable before he got what he needed.
One of the goons looked at Petrov.
Petrov looked at me. "Last chance."
I said nothing. Just stared straight ahead.
Petrov nodded once. The goon jerked the started cable. Instantly the generator coughed once and began churning. Petrov walked over and looked at the dials, fiddled with one of them and then walked back toward me.
"You know this will hurt worse than anything you’ve ever felt before, don’t you?"
I kept mum. I was too busy trying to control my breathing and my heart rate. I began counting my breaths, withdrawing my awareness into the protective inner oasis I’ve mentally tried to perfect for years. The theory was that if I could focus myself so internally that exterior stimuli didn’t register, I might have a chance at withstanding the pain.
Dimly now, I saw Petrov shake his head once and then mutter something to the two goons.
The first jolt of electricity raced across the tightly wound steel springs and through my body. I arched my back, drawing my lips taut against my teeth. Sweat began oozing out of my pores.
But I held.
Inside of myself, I saw the effects of the voltage. I felt somewhere off in the distance the thousands of nerves endings firing off messages to my brain all reading the same thing: pain.
But somehow, my breathing and slowed heart rate allowed me to remain deeply detached.
Petrov must have ordered the voltage increased.
Because the next bolt of electricity chopped right through any inner peace I was maintaining. And I screamed-
-felt my muscles and ligaments stretched tight-felt the sweat cascading down my body soaking me through-and the gasps of air rushing in and out of my lungs.
Everything exploded.
They hit me with another jolt and again my body slammed out and then back against the frame. If they hadn’t tied my head down I might have knocked myself out from the concussion. Agonizing waves of pain rushed over me.
"Enough."
The current vanished and I slumped slightly, sucking in lungfuls of air. Petrov’s face reappeared before my eyes.
"Tell me, Lawson." He patted my face. "Tell me where the boy is hiding."
I coughed, tasting blood and saliva.
Petrov pulled back. "Again."
Another two-ton truck of juice smacked me silly and I convulsed again. I struggled to regulate my breathing. That isolated inner peace was what I needed if I hoped to get out of this.
The current vanished. The generator must have died.
I steeled myself and planted my tongue against the roof of my mouth. I inhaled through my nose and out through my mouth. In and out. Inhale-exhale-inhale-exhale.
"Lawson."
Petrov’s voice seemed to float within my skull.
"Lawson."
Inhale-exhale-inhale-exhale.
"Where is the boy?"
I just kept breathing. Eyes closed, always breathing.
"Tell me where he is."
And then I slowed my respirations.
I heard the generator turn over and start running again. Petrov’s voice wafted over the noise. "Hit him."
This time the jolt did not make me scream. Physically, it did the same thing to my body, but I was no longer there. Far off, almost cut off from the corporal sensations that were racking my every nerve.
The brain itself feels no pain. And the spirit, if you can access it, feels no pain either.
That’s where I kept myself.
And a strange thing happened as I kept breathing slower and slower. I felt my heartbeat slow as well. Dramatically. But I just kept breathing.
Far off now, I heard Petrov’s voice shouting at me as they sent more juice into my body. Heard him screaming.
But it had no effect.
And then my heart slowed even more in time with my breathing which was now so slow I thought I must have been breathing perhaps once every minute.
It got quiet.
Real quiet.
I heard mumbling, muttering-felt the physical sensation of my eyelids being opened, of a hand on my chest-then release.
From my vantage point somewhere deep inside the peaceful oasis of my inner self, I felt my body slump to the ground but felt no pain as my flesh struck the hard wet stone floor.
And then I was being dragged away, down a long winding corridor with few lights.
I thought I might have overdone the breathing bit.
Thought I might have damaged myself.
Hell, I thought I was dead.
Chapter Fifteen
Vampires are a bitch to kill.
So while electrocution might well have killed a human – being that I was of more unconventional stock – I survived the torture session. Even though it felt like I was more than half dead.
If Petrov was concerned about arrhythmia, he certainly didn’t show it during that bout. Maybe he wasn’t concerned at all. Maybe all he wanted was the information and he didn’t care how he got it. That made me feel even better.
Petrov knew I must have somehow found a way to combat the electricity. I heard vague shouting. Things sounded like a television set was turned up too loud in another room.
I felt strong hands grab my body and begin dragging it away.
Petrov officially ended the first torture session. I knew there’d be more.
Prisoners of war and survival experts will tell you the best time for an escape attempt is as soon as possible after you are captured. The further down the chain you get, the more organized things become. Better organization means your chances of escape dwindle.
So even though I felt like I’d just been passed down someone’s small intestine and shit out into a putrid toilet bowl, I knew I had gained a very small window of opportunity.
And if I had any hope of getting out of this alive, it was time to open that window a bit more.
I started with the breathing.
I increased my respirations, dragging my awareness back up to the physical level. As I did, I felt the flush of blood seeping back toward my skin, warming me.
The next sensation I felt was more acute pain.
After all, it hurt like a bastard being dragged down a stone corridor. Then the lasting effects of the electric torture had left my mouth scarred and bloody. I could smell what must have been body hair burned off.
Then my hearing returned.
"This guy stinks." I must have pissed myself at some point during the session.
I opened my eyes. Each of Petrov’s goons had one of my arms.
The other one coughed. "Sooner we get him to the cell the better."
I sped up my respirations, causing my heart rate to follow suit. Adrenaline dripped into my bloodstream.
I got that woozy feeling.
Expectation.
One of the goons dropped my right arm as we stopped.
"I got the door."
Now.
I came alive -
- executed a front roll.
My body momentum broke the other goon’s hold on my arm. He started to reach for me – everything seemed to move real slow…
I came out of the roll – brought my fist straight up under his jaw, slamming his head back at a sharp forty-five degree angle and into the wall behind him.
He slid down to the floor, out cold.
Behind me, the second goon dropped the keys and started to rush me.