Chapter Six
James sat in the securitybooth rewatching the footage of the garage shooting.The figure wore all black and had used a balaclava, making it impossible to identify any features.In fact, the only thing he could determine was the shooter was indeed a man from the build and the way he walked.
He glanced down when his cell phone rang, and he saw it was his assistant.“Yes?”
“Boss, we got him.Traced his movements through surveillance feeds.”
Satisfaction filled him.“Where is he?”
“Waiting for you in your warehouse at the dock.”
“Thank you, Jason.Reschedule any meetings.I’ll be indisposed this afternoon.”
He ended the call and left the booth behind.It didn’t take all that long to get to the docks of Kaneera City.The Roarkes had been exclusively in the shipping trade, but he preferred the corporate scene rather than headache of the supply chain.While he transitioned the Roarke business acumen, David took care of their import and export side of things.
His men were stationed both inside and outside.He nodded at them as he entered, immediately noticing a man tied to a chair.He was younger than what James had imagined, with short dark hair and the narrowed gaze of a marksman.
“You missed me, and that’s gotta be embarrassing in your line of work,” James said.A jab, rather than stating a fact.“Who hired you to kill me?”
The man said nothing.
James liked when they said nothing.Glancing over the man’s head, he gave a come here motion with his hand.Immediately, a table was brought over as well as a large toolbox.Before he got ready to have some fun, he pulled out his cell phone and began recording.
“This is the part I like,” he told the mute man.Opening the kit, he took out a variety of items that were definitely not tools.“I might have a sadistic streak.”
He picked up an ice cream pick and tested the sharpened tip.
“Let’s start vanilla and work our way up if needed.”
Placing the tip on the man’s thigh, he slowly pushed through the heavy material of his pants, into the muscle.The only expression that showed on his prisoner’s face was a grimace.
“Who hired you?”
He remained tightlipped.
“Okay,” James said, picking up another ice pick.This time he inserted it into the other leg.The man let out a grunt.“All you have to do is give me a name and this ends.”
Still, nothing.
“Tight-lipped, I see.Let’s advance to the next round, shall we?”
The next instrument he picked up was wire cutters.
“I like this one, but you probably won’t.”
Slowly, methodically, he snipped off one ear.Humming as the man started screaming with each precise cut, cleaving the cartilage from his head.Once one ear was off, James walked around to the other.
“Stop!”the man cried.“Please, stop.Oh, God.Oh, fuck.This hurts.”
James stood poised to make another cut.“Who sent you?”
“F-Franklin Sessions.”
Not the name he expected, but at least he found the culprit.He turned off the recording and slipped his phone back into his pocket.Then he withdrew his Glock from his shoulder holster and lined up the man’s forehead with the gunsight.He shot once, and the hired hitman was dead.
“Get rid of him,” James instructed to his men as he slipped his weapon back into its holster.“I have a piece of shit to get off my shoe.”
