Page 272 of Sticks and Stones
“I want a lawyer.”
They both laughed.
And laughed.
And laughed.
“Oh, Simon, we aren’t those kinds of Feds today. We’re the kind of Feds who don’t read you your rights before putting you away forever. We’re the kinds of Feds that pretend we don’t see things like waterboarding at Gitmo. Those are the kinds of Feds we are today. Had you fuckers not hurt our friend, we might have actually heard you ask for a lawyer.”
The man was crying.
“You’re going somewhere that you’ll never leave, and never be seen. I suggest you tell the nice CIA agents all they want to know. We’re not arresting you. We’re detaining you for our friends who don’t like Snow coming into our country.”
At the mere mention of CIA, the man pissed himself.
“You know how the CIA loves a terrorist trying to hurt Americans on their own soil,” Ethan said.
“Please,” he begged as he kept talking. “It’s some rich dude. He has a fancy car. He gives us the drugs. We don’t have access to them any other way.”
Gene was curious.
“And the victims?” he asked.
He kept talking.
“We’re to transport them to a buyer. They use the drugs that come in them, and we get the next batch shortly after. That’s all I know.”
Unfortunately for him, they knew more.
“Yeah, and the deal is that you sick fucks get to use the mules all you want. Well, someone dumped their bodies, and we found the brands that were burned into their skin. In fact, our friend has a burn or two himself. Were you guys going to pass him off to a buyer?” Gene inquired, already knowing the answer to that.
Simon was sobbing through his broken jaw.
“I asked you a question, Simon. The clock is ticking, and the CIA is coming.”
He nodded.
“We got too rough. When he stopped moving, we figured he was dead. He stopped reacting to any pain we inflicted on him, and we assumed he was done. The buyers don’t mind used. They don’t want damaged. So we had no choice but to dump him.”
Gene.
Saw.
Red.
Simon must have sensed that he was in danger because he tried to put his broken arm in front of his face to protect his head.
“I didn’t burn his sac and thigh! That was Truck! It was his idea! He likes burning people! I wouldn’t do that,” he said, trying to convince them.
Now, why didn’t they believe that?
Ethan hit the button on the recording of Corbin begging for them to stop hurting him. He turned the volume up, andmade Simon listen to his own voice telling Corbin that he was having fun with his ass.
Oh, and that he’d never be the same again.
There was his laughter when Corbin begged him to stop, but they only hurt him more.
That cruel indifference deserved punishment.
