“Always.” He looked up at one of the guys in the corner. “Frans.”
A kind of metallic jingle caught my attention as Frans came out of his corner, pulling out a spool of some kind of wire from behind his back. I craned my neck to get a better view and saw he was wearing heavy gloves. Of course, he needed them. That was razor wire.
Four other guys put away their handguns and pulled out similar gloves, as Frans slotted the razor wire over a short pole bolted to the ground near the corner. Fuck… this wasn’t good. I looked at Ken, and he was staring resolutely at his own feet.
“What are you doin’? What are you doin’ with that?” Ross asked.
Nobody paid him any attention, least of all Frans himself, who was pulling the wire out in Ross’s general direction. When he had enough length, he wrapped it around the front of my coach’s throat and the razors bit in immediately.
Ross screamed and tried to move his upper body back as far as the bolted chair and handcuffs would allow, but Frans kept the wire taut enough to maintain contact without sinking in too far. In a few heart-stopping seconds, all five of the glove-wearers were behind us, lined up like a tug-o-war team as the first trails of blood started flowing down Ross’ neck.
“Stop! Stop!” I yelled, over Ross’ unintelligible pleading. “Fucking stop! I’ll throw it!”
“All questions are to wait until the end of the presentation,” said Gavino and nodded at Frans.
“Austin!” screamed Ross.
“Heave!” yelled Frans.
All five of them hauled the wire backwards, running razor after razor over and through Ross’ neck like an impossibly sharp chainsaw. His screams were quickly lost to gurgling sounds, as blood bubbles turned to froth on his neck and his very life sprayed all over the place.
“Heave!”
“Fuck!” I howled, as my oldest friend’s blood, skin and cartilage was cast off on to me.
I turned my head away, staring at the ground in front of the desk, as the first cold fingers of fear were swamped by the wave of pure rage that swept over me. If they made the mistake of ever letting me out of these handcuffs…
Somehow, Ross stayed conscious for a few more seconds, but it wasn’t long before the person I’d known the longest was just a corpse in a chair next to me. Over the pounding in my ears I could hear the heavy breathing of the chain gang responsible for my friend’s death, and I started to form a strategy for what I’d do if I could just get my hands free.
“What is the matter, tough guy? What’s the matter, Killer?” asked Gavino.
I didn’t answer. He’d have a heart attack if he knew what was going through my mind right now, and that would be too easy for a cunt like him.
“Cat got your tongue? Or are you finally listening to your motherfucking instructions and you want to wait until the end of the presentation for your burning fucking questions? Ken? Turn on the TV and press play on that fuckin’ thing there, then give me the remote.”
After a hesitation, Ken circled around me. Out of reach, even if my hands hadn’t been secured I fuckin’ noticed.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw him press a button on the TV and then pick up the remote, studying it for a second and then jabbing it in the direction of the DVD player. The screen flickered a couple different colors as Ken handed the remote to Gavino, and then I heard a voice that poured liquid nitrogen down my spine.
“A-Austin… please-”
“Only what’s on the script, bitch,” came Enrico’s voice.
With my jaw clamped shut so tight that I thought my teeth were going to shatter, I turned to face the TV and saw Skylar front and center, sitting in a chair just like the one I was in, with her hands also behind her back. In front of her was one of those stands that people put sheet music on, with some paper on it.
To the right of the screen, I could see part of some guy with a shotgun pointed right at Skylar’s head. Worst of all, I could see the terror on her face, the tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried to focus on the writing in front of her.
If they hurt her…
“Austin, th-the Bertolini’s have me. Th-they have a new deal for y-you t-to c-c-”
The shotgun wavered a bit. “Speak up, you worthless cunt!”
Skylar cringed away from the deadly weapon only a foot from her head. “They h-have a new deal for you to c-consider. If you say no they’ll… they’ll kill me. If you t-talk to the police… they’ll kill me. If you can’t do what they say, they’ll k-kill m-me… Austin! Help m-”
“Shut the-”
Gavino paused playback as somebody else entered the frame from the left, knife in hand. Skylar’s eyes were wide with fright, frozen there to haunt me as Gavino sat back in his heavily-burdened chair.