Stay in there and shut the hell up!
Lamont slammed the gate and tossed the bat.
Youre lucky I let you live, you useless piece of crap!
He stomped to the garage, opened the bay doors, hit the lights and resumed work restoring the chassis of the Model T. He fired up the grinder to remove rust when he saw a shadow and heard knocking out front.
Now what?
He went to the locked office door and saw an older man and a younger woman standing outside.
Im closed! Lamont shouted through the barred glass.
Youre Mr. Faulk, Lamont Faulk? the man shouted back.
Lamont hesitated.
We just need a moment of your time, sir.
Lamont looked beyond them for a car, or other people. Who are they? Becoming uneasy he weighed possibilities and options. Was this a surprise visit from the parole people? He hadnt missed any meetings. But the guy had an accent. European? Whats up with that? Maybe they were religious nuts. But how would they know his name?
We just need your help-it wont take long.
What is it?
May we come in?
If they were parole people, his reaction would be noted.
Lamont unlocked the door and let them into what passed as a reception area. It had two sofas, with holes patched with duct tape, and two battered chairs.
The man was in his sixties, wearing a polo shirt, jacket and jeans. He was about Lamonts height and looked to be in good shape. The woman mightve been in her late twenties. Kinda pretty but in a plain way.
Who are you? Are you from TDCJ? Lamont asked.
No, no. We just need your help, only a moment of your time.
Help with what?
The old mans eyes scanned the office, the garage bays and work benches. Are there others here? Wed like to keep this private.
Were all closed up Theres just me. State your business.
What about the trailer we saw in the back with the light on?
Thats me. What do you want?
The man produced some folded pages from his jacket, and for the first time Lamont noticed he was wearing gloves. He unfolded pictures from Hightower prison.
The man was in his sixties, wearing a polo shirt, jacket and jeans. He was about Lamonts height and looked to be in good shape. The woman mightve been in her late twenties. Kinda pretty but in a plain way.
Who are you? Are you from TDCJ? Lamont asked.
No, no. We just need your help, only a moment of your time.
Help with what?
The old mans eyes scanned the office, the garage bays and work benches. Are there others here? Wed like to keep this private.
Were all closed up Theres just me. State your business.
What about the trailer we saw in the back with the light on?
Thats me. What do you want?
The man produced some folded pages from his jacket, and for the first time Lamont noticed he was wearing gloves. He unfolded pictures from Hightower prison.
I understand you know this man, Mason Varno, whos been known to use various aliases?
Lamont shook his head. No, I dont believe I do.
The older mans eyes gleamed, and his skin crinkled around them as he smiled at Lamont.
Mr. Faulk. Please think again. I understand you know this man and I need to locate him.
Lamonts face began to harden. I answered your question.
The mans gaze never left Lamont. Mr. Faulk, Ive been polite and its unfortunate that you would choose to lie to me.
I dont know you- I dont need this shit. Get out!
Forgive me, but I cant leave without your help to locate this man. I have business with him.
I dont owe you squat. Where the hellre you from anyway? You sound like those Russian Commies on TV. Are you a Commie? I hate Commies.
The man stepped into Lamonts personal space. And as much as you hate communists, I detest liars.
Who the hell did this prick think he was?
Lamonts jaw twitched, his blood was pumping hard, releasing his hair-trigger temper. He drew his right arm back, closed his hand into a fist, driving it at the bastards face, but he hit air. The old guy moved like a snake as he ducked, lowered himself then with blinding speed shot up, smashing the top of his skull into Lamonts face, breaking his nose and three of his rotting teeth in a brain-numbing explosion of blood and bone. In a heartbeat the mans huge right hand had seized Lamonts crotch, introducing him to a new degree of pain.
Still gripping Lamonts groin, the old man used his other hand to grab Lamonts mashed face and swiftly back-walk him to a bench, hoisting him so that Lamont was on the bench on his back writhing in pain. The old man drove his fist into Lamonts groin, and he almost passed out.
With the rapid precision of an expert, the old man opened the jaws of a steel bench vise, seized Lamonts shoulders and positioned Lamonts head between the jaws of the vise.
Then he tightened it.
Before Pavel Gromov took the next step in extracting information from Lamont he turned to Yanna.
Her eyes were still wide at what shed witnessed. Breathing as though hed just finished working out, Gromov spoke to her in rapid Russian.
Put your gloves on and search his trailer quickly for cell phones, small computers, anything that will help us. Move!
As Yanna headed through the junkyard to the trailer, Gromov rattled in the parts and tools piled in a corner, finding a big steel clamp. He screwed it down on Lamonts right wrist, locking his hand to the bench. Gromov then found a hammer and held it to Lamonts face so he could see.
Now, Mr. Faulk, are you listening to me?
The bleeding compressed mess of scrunched skin, beard, hair, blood, snot, saliva and teeth that was Lamonts face indicated a nod within the pressure of the bench vises jaws.
Chyesssh, Lamont said.
Good, this is how it will go. You will tell me what I want to know, and suffer no further pain. Or, I will very quickly ensure you will never have use of your right hand again. That will be step one. Understand?
Chyesssh.
You do know Mason Varno, correct?
Chyesssh.
Have you seen him recently?
Chyesssh.
Tell me where he is.
Lamonts words were incomprehensible, so Gromov loosened the vise slightly but not enough for him to get free.
Hes at my uncles old house with his woman. His words were slow, slurred and slobbery. He came to me and said he needed to hide. I will give you the address.
Did the woman have a baby?
Lamont took huge gurgling breaths. I dont know. I only saw Mason when he came to see me. He groaned. I need a doctor.
Did he say his womans name was Remy?
No, but its the woman who came to Hightower to see him- Please!
Why did they have to hide?
He didnt say, but in Hightower we knew that Mason ripped off a drug guy named DOA. I need a doctor-please-I figured Mason was hiding because word was DOA was looking for Mason now that he was released.
Do you have an address for DOA?
No. Oh God, my head!
What else should I know about Mason?
I heard he was buying into a big deal with Garza, a big player.
Do you have an address for this Garza?
In my computer, ohhhh
The trailer smelled of body odor and held the appeal of a restroom in a bus terminal.
As Yanna searched the kitchen and living room she held a gloved hand to her mouth. Was this real? Was she dreaming? Would she wake up and be at her desk in Moscow reading a manuscript? It was as if she was Alice and had fallen down the rabbit hole into a violent underworld.
Unwashed dishes, take-out food bags and empty beer bottles covered the counters and tables. She found a cell phone amid scores of sickening pornography magazines.
Under one of them she found a laptop. The light indicated it was on. She hit Enter and a space bar and the screen lit, coming alive to a video that began to play. Bile erupted in the back of her throat and she steadied herself. The images-My God, children-were revolting. Yanna gagged several times, spit in the sink then closed the laptop, collected it with the phone and turned to leave.
She froze at the door.
A big dog, blood dripping from its snout and teeth, stood at the door, growling as if waiting to settle a score.
Yanna hurried to the fridge, found packaged cold cuts, went to the door, cracked it open so the dog could smell the meat. She tossed a slice over its head. The dog chased it. She tossed another toward the kennel, and the dog trotted to it and devoured it. She continued until shed lured the hungry dog into his kennel.
She locked the gate.
Lamont was still lying on the bench with his head locked in the vise when Yanna returned with the computer and cell phone.
Gromov examined Lamonts personal information; his email accounts, bank account and bills for his uncles property.
Unable to reach the vise with his free hand, Lamont moaned and begged for an ambulance.
Ignoring him, Gromov studied Lamonts situation.
Before they left, Gromov came to the obscene images on Lamonts laptop. Disgusted, the Russian tightened the vise until he heard Lamonts skull crack.
49
Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex, Texas
Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex, Texas
It was a neglected bungalow that sat back from the street.
A gravel drive cut through a stand of twisted cottonwoods, patches of grass and dirt. A vehicle enshrouded with a tarp sat between the dilapidated carport and wall of shrubbery that bordered the property.
Stones crunched under Masons pickup truck as he and Remy eased up to the house. Both of them needed to shower. They were grimy and sore after spending a fitful night sleeping in the truck at a roadside rest area where Mason had pulled deep into the woods.
Mercifully, Lamont gave him directions when he called the other night.
Theres heat, water, electricity, a fridge, an oven and a washer and dryer. No cable. The satellite dish malfunctions, and oh, youll be sharing the place with two other people, Lamont had said. Youll have to deal with them. Ill be out tomorrow to get what you owe me.
It pissed Mason off that they were not alone, but they had no other choice. They had to get off the grid. Once they unloaded the truck, Mason would back it into the carport and cover it with something.
Remy unbuckled the baby, grabbed her bag and got out. Mason carried some of their things, and before they got to the door, a man in his late twenties with unruly hair came out to greet them.
Im Brice. He offered a gap-toothed smile, displaying teeth that were in need of brushing.
Im Misty, Remy said. This is my husband, John, and our baby.
I can help you bring your stuff in. Brice smiled.
No, thank you, Mason said. Ill take care of it.
The interior of the house was menacing. The walls were cracked and had holes in them. The hardwood floors were warped and worn. Cigarette smoke and the odors of a locker room and stale beer permeated the house. A huge plastic trash bag, overflowing with pizza boxes, suggested someone had attempted to clean the kitchen.