A bright light burns into his closed eyelids. Cole senses he’s not alone.
A shadow moves in front of his face and the sound of nails on tile sparks a memory for him. Savannah’s description of The American’s boots. Cole plays like he’s passed out, hoping to gather something from him.
“So, this is the famous Colonel Cole Logan,” The American says in perfect English.
“Si seńor,” a man’s voice answers.
“How many men did his team kill?”
“Veintiocho”
Yeah, motherfucker. Twenty-eight down, a billion more rats to go.
“And he’s not talking?”
“No.”
“I think I may know how to fix that.”
Two footsteps later and he gets a hard punch to the stomach. “Time to wake up, Colonel,” The American says sharply.
Cole coughs, trying to catch his breath, then leans forward taking in what the man is wearing: his signature, black and white suit, a cowboy hat, and his ridiculous looking cowboy boots with the gold- headed cobra sticking out at the tips.
“At last, we finally meet after all these years,” he says.
Cole keeps silent, watching him, studying his movements. He has a slight limp in the right leg and he keeps tilting his head to the left like his neck is hurting.
“So, I’m going to ask you a question and you’re going to answer it. Where is my Savannah?”
It takes everything in Cole’s body to not to react.
The American nods his head fixing his left shirt cuff. “So short term physical torture doesn’t seem to bother you. I wish we had more time, but sadly we don’t.” He taps his mouth with his finger. “I wonder how strong you are mentally.” He smirks. “Mr. Donavan, would you please join us?”
Cole gaze moves to the door when he hears footsteps.
It only takes a moment to realize who it is. A wheel of photos flicker through Cole’s memory the most recent from when they were doing surveillance on the house and this guy shows up. A navy blue suit with a cream-colored cloth bag over his head with his wiry body is hard to forget.
“I’ll take it you recognize me?” he asks, smirking.
“I do,” Cole grunts out.
“You see, Colonel, we have a problem. You screwed up a very important business deal for me.” He moves closer. “This can be very easily fixed if you would just give me Ms. Miller.”
Cole takes a minute, trying something. He rotates his shoulder and flops his head around like he’s losing consciousness.
Mr. Donavan looks at The American. “Can you at put him in a chair or something?” He points to Cole’s stomach. “This is offensive to me. I don’t need to see this all stretched and bloody.”
The American shakes his head slowly, annoyed, but calls for the men to come. “Don’t try anything,” The American says, sticking a 40mm in Cole’s face as the men release the pulley system lowering him into a wooden chair. They keep his hands and feet bound but don’t actually tie him to the chair. He notices one of them is wearing a longhorn belt buckle. The horns look more like a weapon than a decoration. A dull ache runs through him as he starts to feel the beating his body took but relishes in the fact that his plan worked and he was released from the ceiling. His mind slips back into survival mode as he sits, his body starting to build strength as the seconds tick by.
“Now,” Mr. Donovan says as he takes a seat in front of him, “where’s the girl?”
Cole moves his tongue around his mouth tasting tin he spits to his side…yup blood. He looks over at the man, taking his time answering, “Why the girl?”
“Do you know who I am?” He leans forward in his chair, “I mean really know who I am?”
“Luka Donovan, the Mayor’s assistant.”
“Correct. I’ve known the Mayor’s daughter for a long time,” he says, smiling at Cole.
Cole smiles back but for a very different reason, his much more violent.
“You see, the Mayor is up for re-election. The numbers are good but due to his daughter’s constant fuck-ups they’re not great. So a change was necessary.” He leans back shaking his head. “I never would have been able to pull it off if it wasn’t for Lynn.”
Cole always suspected Savannah’s best friend, but could never connect the dots. “Savannah trusted her more than anyone,” he continued conversationally. “So when Lynn and I met for dinner and she agreed she could get a customer of hers to pose as a prospective client who could lure her ‘friend’ down to the parking lot at the right time, it was perfect.”
“Joe Might?” Cole interrupted.