Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“A little early to get piss drunk, don’t you think?” I smiled when we reached him, and then I smiled wider when Wally’s face drained of color.
“I told you I would get it to you by Friday.” He put his hands up in defense.
“Oh, you’re going to magically find a bottle of Pappy?” I crossed my arms.
“I told you already! I didn’t steal it.”
“Sure.” I grabbed his arm. “I’m already bored of this conversation. Let’s go.”
When we got to the truck, Matti tied Wally's hands behind his back and bound his ankles as he cried. He was piss drunk. That didn’t make for a fun time, and I’d have to cut the torture short because I didn't have much time. As we drove to the warehouse, I thought about what I could do that was simple and would hurt him enough to make him suffer before I killed him. Matti spent the ride switching radio stations until he found a station that played the kind of music that can only be enjoyed if you’re on drugs. Matti needed to pump himself up for things like this. I just needed a body to fuck up.
The drive was short. I passed the meet-up spot where I’d left my things earlier and drove to the next block. A few years ago, the guys and I decided to buy four blocks of warehouses. Not because we needed them but because we liked the privacy, and if there was ever a day that we were raided, they’d have to look through countless empty warehouses before they found our meet-up. Even if they had found that they’d have nothing on us, anyway, unless it was illegal to have a man cave in a warehouse (it wasn’t). The torture chamber, as Matti and Nico called it — because on top of being young idiots, they were also nerds — was hosed down and bleached every week. Even on weeks that it wasn’t used, we bleached it. Our bodies were disposed of in one of Dean Russo’s crematoriums near his funeral home. If we wanted to make money just offing people, we were a one-stop shop. That wasn’t our thing, though. I pulled up to the warehouse, Matti got down to roll it open, and I drove the truck in and killed the engine.
“Chain him up.” I rolled the door down and switched on the overhead lights, squeezing my eyes shut.
I’d bought them from a guy who installed professional lights – football, baseball, etc. Their brightness was the reason I bought them. Unfortunately, it blinded all of us for a few seconds. By that time, he was chained up with nowhere to run. Wally started to cry. So disappointing. I hated when they were under the influence. I shrugged off my jacket and shook my head as I walked over to him.
“This is your problem, Wally,” I said. “You don’t know your limits. Not with stealing, not with women, not even with your children.”
His eyes opened wide at that. “No. She lied. She was lying!”
“I’m sure she was.” I put on my gloves and examined my table of instruments. I had somewhere to be in an hour, so I needed to make this quick. Quick and painful. I looked over at Matti, sitting in a chair, texting. Fucking kids. “Mattia, whenever you’re ready to work, let me know since you’re the boss.”
“Shit, sorry.” He dropped his phone and stood up quickly. “What should I do?”
“Strip him.”
“Of his clothes?” Matti balked. “Like, get him naked?”
“That’s what stripping someone usually means, yes.”
He took a breath and walked behind me. Wally started to panic, screaming apologies, promising he’d never do it again, that he’d leave town and never come back, yada yada yada. I would have put something in his mouth, but I wanted to hear his screams. When I turned around, Wally was completely naked, and Matti looked like he was trying not to gag. Wally’s pleas were getting louder, but they were already lost on me. I walked to the wall near him and looked up at the tanks to ensure they were full, then checked that the temperature was just right.
“Who adjusted this to forty-five degrees?” I asked, turning the knob down to forty.
“Ah, shit, that was me,” Matti said, “I couldn’t remember the temperature it was supposed to be, so I Googled it, and it said hypothermia can happen with water at forty-five degrees. It seemed about right.”
I shut my eyes briefly. This kid was Googling shit. I didn’t even want to know what his search history looked like, and for everyone’s sake, I hoped the FBI wasn’t interested either.
“If Google says forty-five, you do forty. It’s torture, not a day in the fucking lake.” I looked at Matti, who nodded. “And be careful what you search for on the internet. You know Big Brother is always watching.”