The Lawyer and the Killer Ch. 05

The whole meeting didn't take more than a few minutes. The woman assured him they'd find out all they could. Shawn gave her a cell phone number, not his own, and let the woman walk him to the front door. At the front door he asked, "The children, are they yours and his or just yours?"

She answered they were just hers.

Shawn made her a promise, "Look I won't kill your kids, but if this doesn't work out right he's a dead man."

She thanked him for the assurance.

He asked also, "How in the world did a smart woman like you end up with a man like that?"

She answered, "I'm not what you think. I was a whore when he found me. He married me anyway. I asked him why. He said he loved me. How could I go wrong with that? And he's always been good to my girls. They've been given things I could never have provided. He's never brought up my past, never humiliated me, and never done anything but good things for my kids. He might be a coward in some ways and he might be a philanderer, but we learn don't we. Nobody's all good or all bad."

Shawn thanked her again, said he'd be waiting for her call, and shaking his head as he walked back down the sidewalk waved good bye. As he turned to wave he heard her telling her husband to get his coat. She'd drive him to the doctors to get his hand looked after.

In the car Shawn considered what just happened. He'd threatened a coward and a womanizer, but a man who'd married a prostitute and was helping raise her kids. Yes, he was a slimy son of a gun, and the bastard had gone overboard trying to have Susan murdered, but Shawn wondered if he really had to break two fingers. One probably would have been enough.

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Back in the neighborhood where Susan was being held several black and brown men were busily working, cutting grass, clearing out brush, and sweeping streets. No one noticed them. No one noticed they were cutting and cleaning around vacant boarded up houses. But they saw everything. They watched every house, every movement, and every entry and exit to and from the house where Susan was.

They identified five men, three on station in the house, and two others who periodically came and went. It was easy to figure out who the leaders were. By the end of the third day they had addresses, car licenses, names, and phone numbers, and thanks to the Internet even criminal records.

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Things were starting to dovetail nicely. Kim's efforts had turned up two syndicate lieutenants and their higher level contact. On the other end the woman who he'd visited had gotten similar information. Between the two separate searches two names appeared on both lists. Shawn wondered if this was how the detectives did it, or if this was how genealogists tracked down ancestors. Maybe it was? Whatever, he knew the next step was certainly not what a policeman or a scholar would do.

Shawn wanted to instill a sense of uncertainty, maybe infuse a little fear, among the people he was after. The next step was simple, he'd grab one of the couriers, beat the living shit out of him, and find out anything else the guy might be willing to give up. Whether he got anything or not it didn't matter, it was intended to throw the syndicate crowd off the trail, especially if they thought anything was coming from the philanderer.

Shawn was parked about six blocks from Susan's location, but across the street from the house was an African friend. When the courier they'd targeted pulled away in his spiffy new BMW Shawn got the word. He started to move. He'd intercept him just two blocks from his destination, one of the crime lord's homes; far enough away to avoid incidental contact with any of the scum he was stalking, but close enough to cause an alarm.

Shawn had stolen a 1998 Chevy Silverado for the occasion. He chuckled to himself. Nothing would be more humiliating than to be intercepted and rammed by an old pickup truck.

Shawn watched the BMW drive by. The asshole was talking on a cell phone, so much the better. He might be talking to his boss. Shawn followed, and just at the intersection he anticipated he pulled the truck ahead and in front. He slammed on his brakes. The man in the BMW slammed into the rear of the truck.

It was too good to be true. The idiot couldn't wait to get out of his car. He even had his phone in his hand. Shawn jumped from his truck, can of mace ready.

The man swaggered toward him, "You stupid son of a bitch!"

Shawn splashed him with a shot of mace. Before he had time to react Shawn punched him in the stomach, and finished him off with a well placed shot to the back of the head. Kim was beside them in another stolen car, a Volvo. Into the back of the Volvo the thug was thrown. Shawn picked the cell phone up off the ground. He heard someone on the other end. It was a man. He heard the talker on the other end, "Ryan where are you? You all right?"

Shawn couldn't resist, "No Ryan's not well. He's not well at all." Shawn slipped in the passenger side of the front of the Volvo. Leaving the pickup and BMW in the street they drove away. They'd be out of the Volvo in a few minutes. Shawn took the cell phone, "Hello who's this?"

On the other end a man answered, "Where's Ryan?"

Shawn knew from the tone of the voice he had a thug on the other end. He couldn't resist, "Oh I'm sorry. Ryan's is being detained."

On the other end, "Who the fuck is this? What do you mean being detained?"

Shawn didn't want to drag this out, but he wanted to make a point, and he wanted to have some fun with these bastards, "Oh Ryan's busy. He's with the FOS."

From the other end, "What the fuck is the FOS?"

Shawn got real serious, "The FOS you ask? Why the FOS is the Friends of Susan!" Before he allowed anyone to answer he closed the phone.

Now they knew. They knew he'd located Susan, and he'd located them too. It was a dangerous game he was playing. They might just cut bait and run. They might kill Susan, drop the whole thing, and try to disappear. He bet they wouldn't. He bet they were wondering where he was. They were wondering who he was. They were wondering how he'd gotten so close. He bet they were a little scared too. He bet they were wondering what kind of character they were dealing with. Were they dealing with some dumb schmuck who'd just gotten a little lucky, or were they dealing with some guy who they'd been paying to kill people for the past nine years, and who'd been pretty damn good at it.

The man on the back seat was groaning. Shawn reached over and punched him hard on the side to the head. It didn't knock him out, but it added to his confusion. Shawn shuffled around in the man's pockets and pulled out his wallet. He took the wallet and the cell phone, wiped them off, and stuffed them in the small mail pouch they'd picked up at the post office. It was already addressed. He sealed it, the car pulled over, and he dropped it in the mail chute of a street mailbox. Next he'd want to have a nice counseling session with the semi-conscious man in the back. He wondered if the man lying on the floor knew what water-boarding was.

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Back at the house where Susan was being kept another cell phone rang. It was someone the three men in the house had never talked to before. He wanted to know if the woman was all right. Was she being treated decently? He told them to clean her up. Get her some new clothes, nice clothes. Find her something to eat, and be ready to move at a moment's notice, and above all not to hurt her.

The man who made the call to Susan's overseers was the very kingpin Shawn was closing in on. It had been him on the cell phone with Shawn, and he didn't like the way things had started to drift. He hadn't been all that hot on hunting down their errant torpedo in the first place. There was never any money in it. Now it looked like they had a wild man on their hands; someone who'd spent too much time in the deep end of the pool.

He should have known this could easily end badly. First, the guy, the one who'd come up with the scheme, wasn't the brightest star in the constellation. The whole idea of kidnapping the same woman twice was stupid. She was just a lawyer for Christ's sake, a relative nobody, someone who'd been hired by a disgruntled former whore to embarrass a husband. Even if they'd had no involvement in the first kidnapping, though in fact they did, to commit a second felony to get at another nobody, this time a paid gunman, was like a bad dream.

Worse, they risked spiking the political water. Pictures of good citizens, particularly an attractive young woman, even if she was just a lawyer; she had influential parents who were making phone calls that were making people nervous. Her pretty blond haired blue eyed face had been on the front pages of every newspaper in town, and it made the police and politicians jumpy.

Then there was this stupid killer. He had some kind of ridiculous infatuation. They had a paid murderer to kill a woman. Now they had an angry lover on the loose, a man with a gun who'd already paid out $100,000.00 to buy back someone he liked. It was all just too messy. He should have blown it off at the start. There wasn't any money in it, and he might look stupid if they didn't put a lid on it. Christ! He couldn't afford to look stupid!

If he looked stupid; the syndicate looked stupid. If the syndicate looked stupid he'd end up dead. He had to make the whole mess disappear.

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Shawn had Ryan locked away in a nice little motel room, "Tell me Ryan. Have you ever been water boarded?"

Ryan was blindfolded. He had no idea who his captor was, and he didn't have a clue what water-boarding was. "Yeah I've heard about it. We did it to a couple guys once. No big deal. Why?"

Shawn answered, "No reason I just thought it might be fun."

Ryan the thug answered, "Well you can't hurt me. I'm not talking. I don't know anything anyway."

Shawn whispered, "OK, we'll see."

Kim and one of the African men had already securely trussed their prisoner to a 10 foot long and 12 inch wide slab of wood. They leaned it backwards on a sixty degree angle. Shawn commented, "Well here goes." He took a towel, wet it down, covered the man's face, and started pouring water on the towel.

The man couldn't move his head, and the water started running up and in his nose. He coughed and spluttered, but otherwise wasn't much the worse for wear.

Shawn stopped and pulled the wet towel away, "How was that?"

The thug responded with a half real half forced laugh, "When do I get to order my meal?"

Shawn answered, "OK, how about a nice bowl of soup?" This time he wrapped the towel all the way around the man's head. He poured more water on the cloth. After the first several seconds the last time he'd stopped. This time he kept pouring. The man under the towel didn't get a break. The water kept coming, and the towel prevented him from getting any air. It wasn't more than a half a minute before the man under the towel started seriously coughing and gagging. Another ten seconds and he was choking to death. Shawn didn't stop. He poured more water on the towel. He pushed the towel down hard on the man's nose and mouth. Shawn figured he'd drown the son of a bitch.

The man's hands, arms, and legs were tied firmly to the board. He couldn't get loose. The water that escaped down around his face and neck was constantly replaced by fresh torrents. He couldn't breathe. He coughed and wheezed. If somebody didn't do something he'd drown. He tried to yell out, but his mouth was held mostly shut. He tried to get his mouth open but that only let in more water. He thought if he could sit up he'd be all right, but the rope held him firmly to the board. It wasn't funny anymore.

Shawn kept pouring more and more water on the towel. They tightened the towel a little more. Kim, who was working the end of the board started lifting it. The man who'd been on a roughly sixty degree angle felt his head and body being forced back further. That wasn't right. He needed to go the other way! The water kept slopping down his windpipe. He was choking to death, but he wasn't able to do anything about it. He couldn't even offer to confess to anything. They were going to drown him right here on this board in this room! He tried to swing his hands and legs. Nothing worked.

Kim and Shawn saw the sure signs of panic. They could let him struggle another few seconds or let him up. Kim said, "We should let him up. He might know something."

Shawn was all for drowning the bastard, but knew Kim was right. They could simply keep doing what they were doing and drown the son of a bitch, or they could let him up and see if he had anything to say. Shawn said, "OK, let's let him up. I don't think he's has anything for us, but we owe it to Susan to make the bastard as miserable as possible."

They raised the board and pulled off the towel. Shawn asked, "How are we doing?"

The man wasn't able to talk. He lay there coughing and choking for several minutes. Finally he'd regained his aplomb enough to ask, "What do you want from me?"

Shawn answered, "Nothing really. We're just going to keep doing this until you eventually drown."

The thug Ryan panicked, "Look that's not right. There ought to be something."

Kim started to raise the board again. Shawn answered Ryan, "No. You don't know anything. It'd be a waste of time. Besides, this is kind of fun."

Ryan was desperate, "Look why don't you ask me something. You want to know who I work for. You want to know where the girl is. Look I know things. I can tell you all kinds of shit."

Shawn laughed, "We know who you work for. We know where the girl is. We know who's with you at the house. We know about the outposts. You don't have anything we need." He got the towel and re-wet it.

Ryan was terrified, "No look! Wait a minute! Wait a minute. I've got money. I can pay you!"

Shawn laughed softly, "No, we figured we'd drown you, put you in a plastic bag, and dump you off at your boss's house. Kind of a warning, you know?" Kim brought over two fresh jugs of water.

Ryan started crying, "I've got a girlfriend. She's pregnant. I don't want to die. Not like this!"

Shawn ruffed through Ryan's wet hair. No, sorry buddy, you've got to look at it from our point of view. We drop you off nice and dead, no bullet holes, no knife marks, just a nice dead blue body. Your boss, Allyn, comes out, he sees you and starts to think."

Ryan interrupted, "No you don't mean Allyn. He's nobody. You mean Mr. Camulos, Oscar Camulos. He's the man pulling the strings."

Shawn laughed again, "Listen to this shit will you? The guy's already dead and still trying to bullshit. We know its Allyn Bucheister."

Ryan saw his chance. They didn't know everything, "No you've got it wrong; Bucheister's a nobody, just a gopher like me. The real brain is Oscar, Oscar Camulos. I swear! I mean it. You want Oscar Camulos."

Shawn smiled at Ryan. He looked back at Kim. This was the confirmation they needed. Shawn looked back down at Ryan. "Look we're going to do you again. This time it'll be just for fun OK? I mean mistakes happen. This is a tricky procedure. Guys like you have died of heart failure, not just from the water. We'll do it one, maybe two more times. You know for fun. If you live we'll wrap you up in a duffel bag and drop you at Oscar's." He paused, "You're sure its Oscar. I hate for you to be wrong and we have to find you again."

Ryan gulped, "No its Oscar, Really. Do you have to do it again?"

Shawn looked down, "Yeah, we have to do it again."

Ryan pleaded, "Please. No more?"

Shawn smiled at Ryan. He wiped the sweat off his forehead. "Now come on Ryan. We know you've been pretty mean to a nice young lady now haven't you?"

Ryan was petrified, "No honest. All we did was drug her and tie her up, we taped her mouth shut. Maybe we haven't been nice, but nobody's touched her. She's uncomfortable sure, but you'd think she was Mother Teresa. I swear. We're not a bunch of perverts. She's as pure as the driven snow. I swear!"

Shawn smiled again. This was better than he hoped. He believed they really hadn't harmed her, "OK then, we'll give you one more good shot. Let's say just to give you something to write home about."

He leaned down close to Ryan's face, "You will tell all the boys about the fun we've had?"

Ryan spluttered, "Oh yes, I'll tell them. I give them a blow by blow."

Shawn brought the towel over, "By the way. Do you know what I look like?"

Ryan was blindfolded anyway, but he crushed his eyes closed tightly, "Haven't got a clue. You're some big black guy. No you're Hispanic. I can't say, I never got a look."

Shawn covered his face with the towel and started to pour water on it, "You're a good boy Ryan. A smart boy."

Ryan coughed and sputtered. He thought this time he was going to drown for sure. He passed out.

Kim looked down at the silent and still thug, "Did we go too far?"

Shawn stepped back, "No he passed out from fright this time. He'd be all right, and when he comes around he'll certainly have a lot to say."

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Before their captured crook fully recovered they'd wrapped him in a blanket, and stuffed him and the blanket in a duffel bag. Later that evening, while Ryan furtively squirmed in his cloth prison they pulled to the side of the road in front of a large colonial three storied house in one of the nicer sections of town. They pushed the bag out of the car and rolled it on the grass. Mr. Camulos, or better, maybe one of his children on their way to school in the morning would find the bag and the man trapped inside. They knew Ryan would have a lot to say, and old Oscar would have a lot to think about.

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In a back bedroom in a rundown house in a bad section of town two men were carefully pulling the duct off Susan's mouth. One spoke as he worked, "We're taking this off so you can eat and maybe get a drink. If you scream or try to cry out we'll have to hurt you."

With the tape off Susan started whimpering, "Look please don't hurt me."

The other man put a finger to his own lips, "Be quiet. You need to tell us your clothing sizes."

Susan had no idea they'd been ordered to get her cleaned up and ready to move, "You won't hurt me will you?"

The other man spoke, "No my girlfriend is on the phone." He handed Susan the cell phone.

Over the phone Susan told the woman the sizes of all her clothes. The woman even asked her if she had any clothing preferences.

About two hours later the woman arrived with fresh clothes, soaps and shampoos. She helped Susan get out of the rest of the duct tape. Put her in the shower and helped wash her off. She helped her get dressed, and even helped her apply some make up. The woman kept telling her someone had made a mistake, but everything was being corrected. Susan wasn't to say anything to the police or talk to any reporters. The woman was very nice. She repeatedly tried to reassure Susan it was all a big mix up, but it had been worked out.

Susan came out of the back bedroom dressed in a pair of one inch sling backed low heeled shoes, dark brown panty hose, a comfortably fitting translucent beige bra, an attractive light brown button up blouse, V-necked lapel collar with ruffled short sleeves. She had on a light brown pleated min-skirt made of some soft frothy material that billowed around her thighs as she walked. The woman combed out her hair, and tied it off with a piece of ribbon in a pony tail at the back.

The woman explained they were in a very bad neighborhood, and she shouldn't try to run away. Someone would be by soon with a car to pick her up. They were taking her out in the country to be dropped off. The choice of a country road was made by Susan's friends who preferred a rural drop off so no one would be followed.

Susan found the woman coarse and not particularly well educated, but not at all objectionable. In fact she sort of liked her. Had they met under different circumstance Susan would have found her charming in that awkward way those raised with fewer advantages often unintentionally revealed.