Page 91 of Savage Protector

“Ah, that’s good.” Tony drops to his haunches beside the prone form. “Now, we can get started.”

“What are you fuckers playing at?” Fred tries to sit up, only to be felled again by another punch from Tony. Enough to keep him where we want him, but he remains conscious. For now.

“We need a chat,” Tony explains conversationally. “Nice and private.”

Fred groans and glares up at us. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Never mind all that. A simple question, you can just tell us what we want to know, then we’re done.”

“What are you on about? I ain’t talking to you.”

“We’ll see. Where’s Shahida Alahi?” Tony poses the question with a smile.

“Fuck you.” He makes another misguided attempt to sit up, but this time Rome’s boot on his chest puts a stop to that.

“Is that your final answer?” Tony enquires.

“How would I fucking know? Bitch was useless anyway.”

“Ah. So, youdoknow her then. Now we’re getting somewhere.” Tony reaches for the toolbox at his side and flips the lid open. “Perhaps you need your memory jogging.” He uses a pocket torch to peer into the toolbox and selects a pair of pliers. “Nothing like losing a tooth or two to help with temporary memory loss. I’m sure you do want to be helpful, really.”

“What the—?” Freddie is now fighting in earnest, but he’s no match for the four of us. His arms are still caught up in the tarpaulin, and with me on one shoulder and Beck on the other, he’s going nowhere.

“Open wide, now. There’s a good boy.” Tony has the pliers ready to do the business.

Fred isn’t cooperating. Can’t say I blame him, but we have a job to do. I grab his bulbous nose and pinch it shut. We have a few seconds of thrashing and closed-mouth screaming, but soon enough his mouth opens and Tony is in there.

“Fuck, this is a tough bugger.” Tony strains to twist one of Freddie’s canines free, but eventually he wins the battle and the bloodied tooth is out, gripped between the jaws of the pliers.

Freddie groans and sobs, blood pouring from the side of his mouth. “Bastards,” he manages before his throat fills with blood and he ceases his complaining to spit it out.

“So, I’ll ask again,” Tony continues. “You were about to tell us about Shahida Alahi. When did you last see her?”

Freddie responds with a further tirade of unhelpful gurgling.

“Hmm, I see. Shall we try that again? Shahida? Where is she?”

More gurgling, and more spitting blood, but nothing more forthcoming than that.

“Let’s take another one, then, see if that helps.”

Tony nods to me, and I pinch Freddie’s nose again.

Now he knows exactly what’s coming and he does put up an even more determined fight, but Freddie is no match for biology, and his survival instinct kicks in. He opens his mouth in a desperate effort to breathe, and the pliers are at work again.

The second canine comes out a little more easily. I suppose Tony has had a bit of practise now, but Freddie doesn’t appreciate his improved skills. His screams split the still air, but there’s no one to hear him out here.

Tony lets him screech for a while, but we have to get on. “So, you were about to tell me where Shahida is?”

“G-gone,” Freddie splutters through a mouthful of blood and gore.

“Gone where?”

“Just gone.”

“Not good enough. You can do better than that.”

“I don’t…I never…”

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