Catalyst
Page 26
Jarvis made the decision for him, grabbing his collar and dragging the man backwards in the direction they’d both just come. Still no one in sight. The captive moaned and then started to complain as the discomfort of being slid along a cement sidewalk pierced his shock and surprise.
“Who the…what the hell are you doin’, man? Get the hell offa me!”
He struggled as if getting away from Jarvis were an option. Jarvis shifted his grip and gave him a tap on the other ear with the club and the complaining was replaced by a yelp of pain.
They reached the car and Jarvis opened the back door, half picking up the man and shoving him in.
“Don’t bleed on the seat.” He shut the door and used the remote entry key to lock the doors. Without looking back, he returned to the spot where the trash bag had fallen. Its contents had started to spill out. He spun the bag with one hand while holding it in the air with the other, then tossed it over his shoulder like a knapsack and headed back to the car. Unlocking with a press of the key, he opened the front passenger door and tossed the bag on the seat. The protestations from the guy in the back were starting to become more coherent and easily drowned out the radio. Jarvis closed the passenger door and opened the back door. The guy scrambled further back into the seat, but still mouthed off.
“I’m gonna kill you, man, you know who you’re messin’ with?” The threat was softened by the guy’s back pressing up against the opposite door as if that would spring it open.
Jarvis pulled a plastic handcuff from his back pocket and dragged the man closer to him by the ankle.
“Yeah, I know who I’m messing with.” He jerked the guy’s hands together and looped one end of the plastic through the locking mechanism on the other. Cheap, short-term, effective.
“Goddammit, this is kidnapping you prick! You better…” He stopped when Jarvis showed him the piece of 2-by-4.
In a pocket in the back seat, a roll of duct tape created a circular impression. Jarvis pulled it out and the man’s eyes grew wide. He pulled off an eight-inch strip and tore a few millimeters with his teeth and ripped the rest. Jarvis grabbed the guy by the hair and pulled him close, pressing the duct tape over his mouth and sliding his hand back and forth to make sure there was a tight seal. Any objections were muffled.
The guy’s eyes widened further, comically, as he looked down and noticed the plastic on the floor and dark towel on the seat. Jarvis followed his look and shook his head.
“Nope, you’re doing all the bleeding you’re going to do. That’s just to keep it clean.” He waited. “Unless you keep squirming.” The man settled down.
Jarvis shut the door and climbed in the driver’s seat. With the press of a button, the engine started. He looked both ways before pulling into the empty street and didn’t turn around as he spoke to the space in front of him.
“Let’s go have a chat with your father.”
Chapter Three
Jarvis pulled into the driveway on a tree-lined street in Brentwood. The house was dark, mimicking all the others. Motion-activated floodlights flicked on as he stopped at the front door halfway around the circular drive. Jarvis cut the engine and pressed a button on his phone. The ringing reverberated over the car’s speakers. Half a dozen times before a groggy male voice replaced the ringing.
“What? Yes, hello? Who is this?”
“It’s Jarvis. I’m out front.” The sound of sheets rustling came over the line, then an incoherent woman’s voice mumbling something.
“Nothing, shhh, dear. Go back to sleep,” in a whisper.
Jarvis disconnected just as the young man in the back started to moan in emotional agony. Jarvis ignored him and waited. The front door opened as a hallway light clicked on behind the figure. Robe open, large belly protruding, the man was almost as wide as he was tall. Olive skin absorbed the light from the outside lamps. He gestured quickly, angrily, furtively toward the car. Jarvis got out and opened the back door, pulling his passenger out with a handful of shirt. The only sounds the previously obstreperous young man made was a snort that hovered between contempt and fear.
One hand on his charge, the other carrying the twisted bag filled with pharmaceuticals, Jarvis dragged both to the front door. The father opened it wide and ushered them in. The look on his face was of fury waiting to be unleashed. His mouth trembled and he was unable to speak. He pointed to the living room off to the right, enveloped in darkness. The size of the house from the outside promised rooms further back from which sounds would not escape. Jarvis pushed the son in that direction but did not follow. The son was breathing heavily now, dried blood on his face. Shame and indignation battled; the former won. The father looked ready to explode and in the momentary silence that balanced the three men, he gave in to his rage and slapped his son hard and solidly across the face. The retort was like a shot and the son was surprised and broken.
Jarvis watched without reaction. “Here. It’s mostly narcotics. Some meth makings.” He tossed the bag onto the floor between the father and son. “Don’t rough him up too much. He wasn’t born an asshole.”
It was the father’s turn to register indignation. Jarvis ignored it. “I used about $3500 of the retainer. I’ll send you a bill for the balance.”
Jarvis left through the front door, his walk to the car triggering the outside floodlights again. He heard the urgent, hushed tirade begin as the door closed off the sounds from the house. With his back to his client, his mind was on home and an hour of sleep before starting again.
If you like Dead East, purchase it at any major ebook retailer. Steve’s other titles Murder in Mind and A Twisted Path are also available for purchase.
For news and updates, check out Steve’s blog or Like us on facebook! http://www.winshel.com/
http://www.facebook.com/swinshel