We arrived at the bar at just before 10 AM, while it was still closed. Tim attached a little something to the door lock, between the lock and the frame. There was a coffee shop across the street, so we sat down on the patio and had a cup.
"Any changes to the plan?" Tim wasn't being nervous, I don't think he has nerves; He was just checking to be certain.
"Nope. It's going to work just fine. Mark, are you up for this, or do you want to pull security? Because we could probably use that, too."
"Wherever you want me, boss."
"Delightful. You will move to the back and check the back room, then lock the back door and return to the front to stand watch. Tim and I will deal with things. If anyone tries to come in, it's a private party. If they still want to come in, beat the crap out of them."
"Sounds reasonable."
I have often said that the very worst people to invite to parties are strong, competent types who don't give a fuck. Mostly because other people get drunk and have to fuck with them. But this kind of party, I wished I had another Tim and maybe 3 more Marks.
Time passed. At 10:45, I saw a man a little younger than me let himself in the front door. He then locked the door behind him. Or so he thought...It's amazing what Tim can accomplish with some packing tape and a bent paper clip. He's like McGuiver meets Jason Vorheez, only without Jason's warm disposition. And if McGuiver could punch you right in your brains.
We strolled in after the bartender, who looked up in confused annoyance. "I swear I locked that damn thing. We ain't open yet."
"You did in fact lock the door, Wayne. But locks mean very little to my friends and I." Mark was already on his way back up front, having looked in the office and the bathrooms.
The bartender was eyeing the bar. I could tell that he was calculating if he could reach behind it before bad things happened.
"Don't bother," Tim said, "You won't make it."
"Who the fuck are you guys? Mob? I already paid up."
"No, we are not the mob. Do we look like rejects from a 1970s Goodwill?"
"Yeah, well, I paid for protection, so you fuckers are gonna be in a world of hurt."
"Perhaps," I said, "but that is later, when we are different people. Specifically, people not alone with you right now. Now, we have some questions for you. Ugly questions. Questions I am sure even your mob pals don't want to hear about. And you will answer these questions, yes. It remains to be seen just HOW you will answer, but answer you most assuredly will."
"Fuck you."
I sighed, and motioned to Tim.
Have I mentioned that having people is good? It is, really, especially at my age. My dignity precludes the sort of thing Tim does, as does the condition of my knees. In any case, Tim walked up and punched the bartender. It was like hearing a hammer mill drop on a pig. An ugly sound.
I crouched, and said as much to the bartender. "An ugly sound, yes. I don't like hearing it...But life is full of unpleasant chores. Now, while there is no guarantee that you will walk out of here intact, or with any sort of dignity, it still IS possible. Shall we get down to business, or do you feel the need to do this for a while? I do have time for you. In fact, I have a great deal of time. Again, shall we get down to business, Wayne?"
"How do you know my name? I never seen you before in my life."
"We know everything, Wayne. Everything except one tiny detail, with which we are obsessed. So we come to you."
"What the fuck do you want?" He started to get up, but Tim put a boot on his chest and shook his head.
"We wish to know where a certain young couple is. They were purchased from a scumbag not far from here...And while I can assure you, with no small regret, that we are not good people, we DO frown on the purchasing of people." My voice lost its humor. "Especially when one of the people is the child of a very important man, indeed."
Wayne's eyes flickered around.
"You are about to lie to me, Wayne. If you do, I shall be most disappointed. But that isn't important. What IS important is that my associate who is resting his boot on your sternum hates liars. One might even say that he has a pathological hatred of them. I shall remind you that his boot is on your sternum. Now, slow down, and tell the mean old man where those kids are."
Mark motioned to me from up front, and then stepped to the side of the door. Mark is a former Marine, and knows how to be silent. This is a skill many people should develop. A second or two later, a man walked in the door, saw what was happening, and reached for the back of his pants. Mark stepped out and grabbed the reaching arm. There was an awful noise, and the man fell to his knees, trying to scream. What came out was more of a grunt and a sob.
"Quit crying," Mark said, "It's only dislocated. Move, and I remove it."
"That must be Lamar," I said quietly to Wayne, "You will answer my questions, yes? If not, I am afraid Lamar may discover that you are the author of his misfortune."
Wayne stared at me for a second, his eyes flicking to the bar.
"Something behind the bar, Wayne? Something interesting?"
Wayne just fumed. I walked behind the bar, and looked at the floor. Pretty much where I expected it, there was a hinged door flush with the floor. The beer would be down there. Maybe something else. Maybe, in fact, we had moved fast enough.
Opening the door, I went down the steep staircase. Jackpot. There, handcuffed to some piping, were our lad and his girlfriend. I smiled at them, which didn't seem to help their mood. I can imagine what they were thinking. I went back up and retrieved the keys from Wayne.
"Found them," I said, "They seem alright."
I went back down and unlocked their cuffs.
"Your dad sent us," I said to the boy.
"I was afraid of that," he said. The girl began to cry.
I had a feeling, as we hustled them out to the woefully inadequate care, that things just got complicated.
To be continued
This is a very enjoyable read.
Fuck me is that disturbing. And good, of course, so very good.
Oh wow.
:eek:
Thanks, guys.
You shoulda been there, Waffles. A Viking is a handy man to have around.
I could have yelled a lot and threatened people with a hammer, at least.
Quote from: The Waffling on April 30, 2015, 06:05:43 PM
I could have yelled a lot and threatened people with a hammer, at least.
Glowering while giving said hammer loving looks is far more effective. Shouting says the problem has started, and people think differently. A present yet suspended threat gets results.
This series rules.
Quote from: Doktor Howl on April 30, 2015, 06:12:00 PM
Quote from: The Waffling on April 30, 2015, 06:05:43 PM
I could have yelled a lot and threatened people with a hammer, at least.
Glowering while giving said hammer loving looks is far more effective. Shouting says the problem has started, and people think differently. A present yet suspended threat gets results.
Have you considered a career in educational pastoral care?
Believe me, you would be amazed at the amount of overlaps. Though fortunately, thus far, no people handcuffed in basements.
Quote from: Cain on April 30, 2015, 09:59:48 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on April 30, 2015, 06:12:00 PM
Quote from: The Waffling on April 30, 2015, 06:05:43 PM
I could have yelled a lot and threatened people with a hammer, at least.
Glowering while giving said hammer loving looks is far more effective. Shouting says the problem has started, and people think differently. A present yet suspended threat gets results.
Have you considered a career in educational pastoral care?
Believe me, you would be amazed at the amount of overlaps. Though fortunately, thus far, no people handcuffed in basements.
That can be arranged.
Quote from: Doktor Howl on April 30, 2015, 06:12:00 PM
Quote from: The Waffling on April 30, 2015, 06:05:43 PM
I could have yelled a lot and threatened people with a hammer, at least.
Glowering while giving said hammer loving looks is far more effective. Shouting says the problem has started, and people think differently. A present yet suspended threat gets results.
Good point. I'll have to learn the glowering part.
Quote from: The Waffling on April 30, 2015, 10:26:22 PM
Quote from: Doktor Howl on April 30, 2015, 06:12:00 PM
Quote from: The Waffling on April 30, 2015, 06:05:43 PM
I could have yelled a lot and threatened people with a hammer, at least.
Glowering while giving said hammer loving looks is far more effective. Shouting says the problem has started, and people think differently. A present yet suspended threat gets results.
Good point. I'll have to learn the glowering part.
What are you talking about? You have the best resting Eric the Red face EVER.
hahaha. I'll have to learn how to not yell a lot then.
Quote from: The All-Seeing Waffle on April 30, 2015, 10:40:42 PM
hahaha. I'll have to learn how to not yell a lot then.
Tim is in charge of yelling.
Because Boers sound like Nazis.
Like MSY, plus some grit. This is western that makes you remember why westerns are a desirable genre. Like the dollars trilogy, just plus a hundred and change years and a Tim.
This series makes the hairs on my neck stand up.
:)
Fucking kids.
Holy shit. :eek:
The 21C Man series is fucking fantastic, Dok. I'm not blowing smoke here. Seeing that you posted a new part, and reading it, is the best part of my week. I can't wait to see what happens next. Keep up the great work!
I'm slightly concerned that the kid's were trying to get away from something fucked up at home, and that you might have to send them back to it.
Even if so, the alternative seems like it would have been a whole lot worse.
And, yeah, this series. Kicks. The arse . Out Of IT.
Quote from: Sung Low on May 01, 2015, 08:23:28 PM
I'm slightly concerned that the kid's were trying to get away from something fucked up at home, and that you might have to send them back to it.
Even if so, the alternative seems like it would have been a whole lot worse.
And, yeah, this series. Kicks. The arse . Out Of IT.
Hold your horses. Story ain't over yet.
Nice
My horses are held.
Quote from: Sung Low on May 02, 2015, 09:31:27 AM
Nice
My horses are held.
Dude, that's not the halter rope.
Quote from: LMNO, PhD (life continues) on May 03, 2015, 07:48:05 PM
Quote from: Sung Low on May 02, 2015, 09:31:27 AM
Nice
My horses are held.
Dude, that's not the halter rope.
Wait now, what??
and damn, now that I think about it, I don't even own any horses :eek:
Thou shalt not Hold Thy neighbor's Horse.
Or wife, or moustache.
Next issue is up, final one in a few minutes.