Chapter 8
“Mr. Woodbury, I’m on the way to pick up the target. My car is downstairs waiting for you. The driver knows where to take you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Whelan,” Woodbury said as he replaced the phone in its cradle. “I’ve waited a long time for this, my friend,” he swore, his voice seething hatred on
the last two words.
“You want a beer, Chris?” Tanner asked as they entered his ranch house. He’d invited the older man for a barbecue, knowing how Chris loved a good steak.
“Sounds good, Vin,” Larabee answered as he relaxed in Tanner’s favorite chair. Glad to see the younger man had the use of both hands again.
Vin shook his head and walked into the kitchen. A movement to his right caught his attention but he had no time to react as he felt something embed itself in his arm.
He was grabbed before his body hit the floor.
Chris sat in Vin’s chair, a smile on his face as he flicked through the channels on the large screen TV. He remembered Vin’s face when he walked into the house to
find the rather large and expensive birthday gift left for him by the other members of The Firm. The tiny thirteen inch had been relegated to the attic ever since. “Need
some help, Vin?” he called when his friend hadn’t returned with the beer. “Vin,” he called again as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He reached for his
gun and held it in front of his body. Without a sound he opened the door to a silent, empty kitchen.
He slowly made his way towards the walk in dining room, opening the door slowly. The sight that caught his eyes made his heart skip a beat. Two men, both wearing
hooded masks held guns to Vin Tanner’s head. The younger man didn’t move but his eyes sent a warning to his friend. ‘Get out!’
‘Can’t do that, Cowboy!’ he shot back.
“Drop your gun, Larabee,” a soft deadly voice ordered from his right. He turned to see another hooded man pointing a gun in his direction. “Put it down or my
associates will put a bullet through Tanner’s head.”
‘Don’t do it, Chris,’ Tanner’s eyes shot across the room.
“Sorry, Pard,” Chris answered aloud as his gun clattered to the floor.
“Very good, Larabee. Now if you’ll kindly kneel down and place your hands behind your back we’ll get down to business,” the man on his right said.
Chris did as he was told, worried about Vin’s unmoving body. He knew he was alive because the expressive blue eyes watched every move he made. ‘Drugged,’
he thought worriedly.
Chris felt his arms viciously yanked upwards and bit back a cry as he felt handcuffs secured to his wrists. He was pulled to his feet and pushed into a chair across
from Tanner. “Who the hell are you?” he asked as he felt the man behind him place a hand on his right shoulder.
“It doesn’t matter who we are, Chris. May I call you Chris?”
“Only my close friends call me Chris,” the blond said as he continued to watch Tanner’s eyes.
“Oh we will be mighty close over the next six days so I guess that means I can call you Chris,” the man beside him said.
“What have you done to him?” Larabee asked.
“Mr. Tanner is suffering from the use of a drug made on the black market. He will remain paralysed for approximately two more hours,” the man said. “You see my
client wants a little revenge on Mr. Tanner.”
“What are you going to do to him?” Larabee asked as he angrily struggled against the man’s hold on his shoulder.
“We’re not going to do anything to Mr. Tanner at the moment. You see my Client wants his revenge to be slightly different.”
“Different? How?” Larabee asked.
“He wants Mr. Tanner to watch his closest friend suffer,” the man answered.
Chris watched Vin’s eyes fill with rage, “Who is this man?”
“It’s too early to tell you that. Actually you’ll be meeting him soon. Right now I need to show Mr. Tanner that we mean business,” the man said. “I am going to
release your hands for a minute. If you try anything my man will put a bullet in your friend. He won’t kill him but he will suffer and I’m sure you don’t want that,” he
laughed as he released Larabee’s hands from the cuffs.
Chris pulled his hands around to the front and rubbed the circulation back into them. His eyes never left those of his friend and he could tell Vin wanted him to do
what he had to do to get away. Chris shook his head imperceptibly.
“Very nice,” the man smiled as he watched the silent exchange. “Now please place your left hand on the table, Chris,” he ordered. When the blond didn’t do so
immediately he signaled his men and Chris heard the distinctive sound of a gun cocking. Larabee’s left hand found its way to the table. “That’s better but if I have to
ask a second time again there will be no warning. Now give me your right hand!”
Chris Larabee was not a man easily scared but something about the man standing beside him sent chills down his spine. He lifted his right hand, his eyes never leaving
the blue eyes of his friend. His scream rent the air as his wrist was snapped in one smooth move.
‘No! Oh, God, Chris, I’m sorry,” Tanner thought. Anger and fear making his eyes turn to ice.
“That’s your first warning Mr. Tanner. You’ll be receiving tapes at your office. I think it will be imperative for you to watch them as you receive them as they’ll reveal
exactly what your friend is going through. Chris’s whereabouts will also be revealed during one such taping,” the man said as he dropped the blond’s wrist.
Chris held his broken right wrist in his left hand. He bit his lip as he tried to fight off the incredible waves of nausea that threatened to empty his stomach. His arms
were once again pulled behind him and fastened with handcuffs. He was pulled roughly to his feet but his eyes never left the young man sitting stiffly across the table.
A blindfold was placed over his eyes and all contact with Tanner was cut off as he was pulled from the home of his friend.
Chapter 9
Chris tried to keep track of the twists and turns the car made but the pain of his injured wrist pressing up against the back seat of the car made it hard to concentrate.
He had no idea how long they’d been driving but his instincts told him more than an hour had passed. They hadn’t made many stops so he figured they had to be
driving in the country not in Billings itself.
“How’s the wrist feel Chris? Has the pain numbed for you yet?” the soft voice of his tormentor grated on the blond’s nerves.
“Go to hell,” Larabee hissed.
“You’ll soon find out the true definition of hell, Chris. My client is paying me very well to see that Mr. Tanner suffers along with you, although his will be more on the
mental side,” the man laughed, as he continued on in his conversational tone. “Have you ever watched a close friend being tortured, Chris? It’s not something I’d
recommend. I’m talking from experience here. Not that I’ve watched a friend being tortured but I have tortured a friend. I was paid very well for that and the client
always comes first.”
“You’re sick,” the blond said softly.
“Don’t ever say that again, Chris,” the man warned, his tone remained soft but with an added steel behind it and a look in his eyes that hinted at insanity. He shoved
Larabee back into the seat, reawakening the dulled pain in his wrist. “There are a lot of bones in your body that can be broken without killing you, Chris,” he stated
leaving the threat hanging in the air.
Larabee leaned forward trying to keep his injured hand from any contact with the seat. He felt the motion of the car stop and knew they’d reached their destination.
“We’re here, Chris, It’s time for you to meet my client,” the man said.
Chapter 10
As suddenly as his mobility had left him it returned and Vin gasped as pins and needles swept through his body. He grabbed for the phone sitting across from him and
pressed the number for Buck Wilmington. He tried to stand but his legs were still shaky and his head throbbed unmercifully. Over and over he heard the sound of
Chris’s wrist being snapped and the scream of pain that escaped his lips. ‘My fault, my fault,’ he thought as he waited for Wilmington to answer the phone.
“This better be good,” the familiar voice answered tiredly.
“Buck, get the others and get out to my ranch.”
“Vin, what’s wrong?” Wilmington asked immediately awake and alert to the fear in the younger man’s voice.
“Chris is in trouble, Buck, and it’s all my fault.”
“Vin, what are you talking about? Where’s Chris?”
“They took him. He broke his fucking wrist and they took him outta here. I heard him scream, Buck. I heard him scream,” Tanner snarled.
“Vin, stay where you are. I’ll get the guys and we’ll be there in an hour.”
“Buck, tell JD to bring his finger print kit,” Tanner said, his instincts kicking backing in.
“Will do, Vin. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Buck, it’s Chris we have to worry about right now. Hurry, Buck.”
“On the way, Vin, just don’t do nothing foolish till we get there,” Wilmington said as he heard the phone disengage.
Chapter 11
Woodbury watched as the blond haired man was led into the large room. A chair sat in the center, a length of chain attached to the legs, a collar hung loosely from
the back, reminding him of the chair used when a man was given the death sentence in the old movies. A large, bright overhead spotlight illuminated the chair and its
immediate surroundings. He smiled as he realized he was about to get his revenge against the man he’d once considered his best friend but that had all changed over
the months he’d been held prisoner in Beirut. His hatred towards Vin Tanner had grown to the point where it had eaten up the man he’d once been. He wanted
Tanner to pay and pay he would with the torture and eventual death of his friend. He watched as one of Whelan’s men set up a video camera to capture the torture
on tape.
“Now, Chris, I’m going to remove the cuffs from your wrists. You’re not going to try anything foolish are you?” Whelan asked as he smiled in Woodbury’s direction.
Chris waited for the handcuffs to be removed and made his move. He turned on the man standing next to him and lashed out with his left hand, only to have it
grabbed in a vice like grip. The skin of the man’s hands was soft, like that of a baby, but the strength was like steel. A gun cocking next to Chris’s right ear made him
stop fighting.
“That was not a very smart thing to do, Chris,” Whelan said as he bent the left hand back as far as he could without breaking it. “Now I’m going to let your hand go
and then I want you to take your clothes off. Oh don’t worry I’m not into that kind of torture but some of the things I will be doing require bare skin, just keep your
undies on, everything else must go. Now you can remove the clothes yourself and at least keep a modicum of dignity or I can have a couple of my men help you out,”
he said as he released Larabee’s hand. “Which will it be?”
The gun at his head never wavered as he removed the boots, socks, shirt, and black jeans he wore. Whelan smiled as he pushed his victim into the chair, attaching
the length of chain to his ankles.
Chris felt hands in his hair as his head was pulled back and something cold was wrapped around his neck. He heard the snap of a lock as the cold steel tightened
around his neck, effectively limiting his movement. He felt his tormentor move away from him and wondered briefly why his hands were allowed to remain loose. He
hid a smile as he thought of the things he could do if he was permitted this tiny freedom.
“Now, Chris, you don’t really think I’m going to leave your hands free, do you? I’ve read the file my client had on you and I know all about your black belt and your
training as a Navy Seal,” Whelan explained as he signaled two of his men to come forward.
Chris Larabee felt both his hands grasped tightly and forced palm down on the armrest on both sides of the chair. His right wrist protested this new mistreatment and
he clenched his teeth in pain.
Woodbury grinned as he saw what Whelan had in his hands. He recognized the high powered, battery operated nail gun used by contractors.
“This may hurt but it’s necessary to keep you from attacking any of my men,” Whelan said as he loaded the nail gun. Her reached out and began prodding his
victim’s right hand until he found the place he wanted between the thumb and finger. Without warning he brought the gun down and deployed a nail into the tender
flesh of the blond’s hand.
Chris’s body arched as far as it could in the limited confines of the chair. The cry that escaped his lips was quickly cut off as he felt the gun placed on his other hand.
“You fucking animal,” he screamed as he struggled to get away from the mounting pain in his right hand.
“Swearing does not become you, Chris,” Whelan said as he deployed the second nail, once again causing the man’s body to arch against the pain.
Chris’s world had suddenly become a world of misery. Something he couldn’t get away from. He couldn’t move his hands and he felt the blood pooling around the
embedded nails. The nausea he’d felt when this man had broken his wrist was nothing compared to the white-hot pain he’d felt as the nail was driven into his hand,
embedding deeply into the arm of the chair. He fought to remain conscious as the pain radiated up his arms. “You Son of a Bitch,” he shouted, his anger helping him
manage the pain.
“Don’t try to pull your hand, Chris, it’ll just make me have to repeat the process. Now I’m going to remove the blindfold and let you see who’s company you’ll be
keeping for the next six days,” Whelan explained. “I’d advise you to keep your eyes closed for a few minutes as the light is very bright,” he advised as he lifted the
blindfold from his victim’s eyes.
Chris clenched his eyes against the brightness of the light above him. He waited a few minutes for his head to stop spinning and looked down at his hands. The skin
between his thumb and finger was already swollen and red as the blood continued to seep around the nails. He swallowed the bile that came up in his throat as the
pain caused his stomach to churn. He tried to pull his left hand from the painful intrusion but a man’s hand clamped down on it.
“I warned you not to do that,” Whelan told him as he pressed against the puncture wound.
“Don’t,” the blond hissed as the pressure on the tiny wound caused more pain to radiate outwards.
“You’re not in a position to give orders, Chris,” Whelan said as he fastened metal clamps over the blond’s wrists. “That’s just to make sure you don’t pull your hand
away from the nails. I don’t really want to have to do that again. Turn off the video Camera and make the delivery,” he ordered and the man closest to the camera
did as he was told. “Now, Chris, since I know your name I think it only fair that I introduce myself and my client” he said as he removed his own mask. “My name is
Marcus Whelan and I’ve been doing this kind of work for more than twenty years. You might say it’s been a torturous road but I’ve certainly refined my trade. Now
my client is paying me handsomely to make sure I give you a complete and very painful demonstration of my work,” Whelan explained as he knelt before Larabee.
“You’re a sadistic bastard,” Larabee snarled through gritted teeth.
Whelan laughed as he placed a hand on the blond’s knee. “Now, Chris, have you ever looked up that definition in Webster’s dictionary. It says a Bastard is an
illegitimate child and since I grew up with two very loving parents that definition doesn’t fit. Sadistic, yes, Bastard, no. Now shall we continue with the introductions.
Mr. Woodbury, would you please come over here,” he said.
Chris watched a man in a wheel chair coming towards him. The first thing he noticed was the scars that covered the man’s face and neck area. It looked as if he’d
been burned severely. The second thing that drew his attention was the missing right leg, the left leg was also missing just below the knee.
“Would you like to introduce yourself Mr. Woodbury?” Whelan asked, acting as if he was at a polite society formal instead of playing sick games at the whim of
another madman.
“My name is Gary Woodbury. I’ve been planning this for a long time, Larabee, and I’m sorry that you had to be involved. You’re the one catalyst that will give me
what I want.”
Chris listened to the raspy whisper, wondering what happened to the man to make him so bitter. “What do you want?” the blond asked, ignoring the pain in his hands
as he tried to find out more about the man in the chair.
“I want Vin Tanner dead but before he dies I want to see the look on his face while he watches his best friend,” the last two words were said vehemently, “die
because he broke his promise to another friend.”
“Who are you?” Larabee asked.
“Has Vin ever talked about his days in Beirut?”
Chris’s head snapped up as he thought of the conversation he and Vin shared two nights before. Something told him he was about to find out exactly what happened
to Vin’s friend.
“I see he has,” Woodbury said. “Did he ever mention the name Gary Wilcox?”
“He mentioned the name Gary,” the blond said.
“Did he tell you what happened to him?”
“He died in Beirut,” Chris answered simply.
Woodbury lashed out and struck the blond openhandedly across the face. “Is that what that animal told you?”
Chris felt the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. “Vin’s not the animal,” he hissed.
Woodbury lashed out again but his hand was stopped and held by Whelan. “Don’t let him get to you,” he said.
Woodbury’s hand dropped in his lap as Whelan released his hold. His cold eyes drilled into Chris’s as he began speaking again, “Gary Wilcox didn’t die in Beirut.
Oh, he wanted to. He even prayed that he would but it was not to be. Those animals took both my legs and ruined my throat.”
Chris immediately picked up on the change in the man. He heard the voice go from talking as if he was speaking of someone else to suddenly putting the emphasis on