He goes quiet then.
“Yuri, did I say to stop talking, you shitstain?” I ask as I tap my gun against his knee.
“No… No… I just… I don’t know. He wouldn’t let me in.”
“He, who?”
“Ivan. He kept giving me reasons to not meet big guys.” He shrugs his shoulders. “He made promises to me but it was lots of talk.”
His mouth still oozes blood and the gash over his right eye has dried a bit. I guess he’s feeling safe now. Pain must have dulled.
“What else, Yuri? Give me information for my boss. Make me look good.”
“They wanted to make my business bigger!” he says, smiling. His nasty bloody mouth gaping open.
“Which business?”
“My slaves… They wanted to take more from your schools and campuses.”
That’s fucking interesting. That’s real fucking interesting. Looking at the phone I sat on the table near us, I make sure it’s still recording. Good.
“Were they planning on any more hits?”
Yuri pauses a moment while he tries to think. I can see the gears slowly grinding in his head. He wants to please me. He wants to give me the right information. I don’t need that shit; I need all the information.
“No…” he says slowly. “I never heard. They knew that Lucifer was on warpath. They knew they riled beast. I don’t know anything else, though… Like I say, they didn’t let me in on things. They just wanted to use my businesses.”
We discuss a couple of other things, and by the time we’re done, it’s close to dawn. He really hasn’t given me any more information beyond a couple of contacts he has near Garden City, and I need to get moving.
The one thing he gives me that stirs the bile in my stomach is the name of a child pornographer and where he lives.
It’s smack dab in the heart of Garden City. That, above all else, sentences him to death. I couldn’t give two shits if Lucifer wanted this man alive. Thankfully, he doesn’t.
Standing up from the chair, I stretch out my back and hear the pops from where I’ve been hunched over, interrogating this asshole. “Good job, Yuri.”
The smile on his face couldn’t be more hopeful, like he thinks he has a chance. Grabbing some tape from my bag, I also grab a rag from their kitchen sink. “Can’t have you interrupting my getaway.”
Stupid child molesting fuck. Doesn’t even understand the pain that’s getting ready to come. He probably thinks I mean to let him go.
I gag him up then pick up the phone from the table. I stop the recording and dial Simon.
“Johnathan, what’s going on?” he asks immediately.
“I’m wrapping up here. I wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything else from him?”
“No, he’s useless now. See if you can find any other information in the apartment, but from the broadcast you were sending me, I’d say we’re good.”
“Good. I’ll put this to bed then and head home.”
“Call me when you get out of the apartment. We need to talk.”
“Will do,” I say, disconnecting.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a pair of brass knuckles, and the asshole realizes the truth.
He’s going to die.
He tries to stand up from the chair but my fist shatters his jaw. The scream from behind the gag isn’t too loud since I stuffed some good insulation in there, but I need to make this quick.
I want to drag this out for hours, to torture him for days, to vent my rage of someone hurting kids… but I just don’t have that kind of time.
The punches to the face and body have rendered him a bloody broken mess. He no longer screams loudly. He just blubbers little bubbles of spit and blood, his lungs filled with liquid.
He’s going to die soon, so I make the best of it.
Grabbing his cock and balls, I cut them both off with a steak knife. Ripping the gag off, I shove them both into his mouth.
Let him choke to death on those.
Going to his ear, I whisper, “Now I get to torture your father.”
His body jerks at my words but it doesn’t last. He’s bleeding out fast. Moving to his wrists, I slit each one with a long, straight line down the center.
There will be no second chances for this guy.
Walking past his bloody corpse, I head to the father.
He’s where I left him, still wide awake. His eyes are wide with rage as he feebly struggles to break his bonds.
Shaking my head, I screw the silencer on my gun.
Lifting the gun and aiming it at his chest, I say, “He was a child molesting sack of shit and he’s headed straight for hell.”
He stills then, staring at me long and hard. Does he recognize my words? Does he understand?
Fuck him if he doesn’t.
I pull the trigger three times, two to the chest and one to the head.