John Locke - Callie’s Last Dance

“The fire’s out.”

“No. It’s burning the skin off my nuts. You’re killing me! I’m gonna die!”

“You’re just feeling the after-effects of the liquid pepper extract. This is why you don’t want me to open the bad vials.”

“P-please. Check for f-flames. M-My skin’s on fire!”

“I’m looking, Frankie. I know it hurts. That’s why they call it torture. But your balls are blistered, that’s all. So, will you talk to me?”

He nods.

“Good boy. You know Donovan Creed?”

Frankie nods.

“He was hoping to be here. And no better than you’ve handled this? You’re getting off light. But while I’m more civilized than Creed, I’m just as determined to make you talk. Do you understand?”

“I’ll talk.”

“Good, ’cause you’re one squirt away from losing your eyesight.”

“P-please!”

“Creed says you’re skimming money.”

“No. I would never-what are you doing?”

She opens the vial of Trinidad Moruga Scorpion…

“ No !”

…And pours it up and down the length of his penis.

And Frankie cries. Sobs like a child.

When at last he settles down, Callie says, “You’re not going to make me use the pure cap, are you?”

“Drugs,” he says.

“What about them?”

“I’m selling drugs on the side.”

“What type of drugs?”

“Heroin.”

“Who’s your contact?”

He shakes his head.

Callie reaches for the vial of pure capsaicin and says, “I’ll remind you. This is eight times worse than the last one. And I’ve got to say, your penis isn’t looking very happy.”

She starts to open the vial.

“Wait!” he says.

She pauses.

“Are you going to kill me anyway?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On you giving me the right answers. I know you don’t trust me, so I’m going to tell you a little secret. Sal hired Creed to kill Angie, not you. Sal doesn’t know you’ve been skimming. Creed planned to kill Angie, then torture you until he got a reason to justify your death to Sal. If Creed hadn’t been called away on business, you’d both be dead by now.”

“But you work for Creed.”

“Well, here’s the thing. Creed and I work for the government. They’ve offered me the top job. I said no, so they’re giving it to Creed. So I’m thinking, maybe I tell Creed I tortured you and couldn’t get anything because you’re clean. So I spare your life. Meanwhile, you cut me in on your drug deal.”

“What about Angie?”

“She’s resting quietly.”

“But what about her? Are you going to kill her?”

Callie sighs. “I can’t protect her. She’s been saying things that could bring down the whole organization.”

“I know. Shit. I told her to stop, but she can’t keep her fuckin’ mouth shut. She hears shit, she tells it. But still. She’s my wife. Maybe I can talk to Sal, get him to give her another chance.”

“Sorry. That’s not part of the deal.”

“But I love her, you know? I can’t bear to watch her suffer.”

“I understand. Look, if it makes you feel any better, she’s been dead for the past twenty minutes.”

Donovan Creed.

Sensory Resources, Virginia.

“SO AFTER YOU told him Angie was dead, what did he do?” I ask.

Callie says, “He gave me the name of his drug contact.”

“Is it someone we know?”

“Oh, yes indeed.”

“Were you surprised?”

“Stunned,” she says.

“Am I going to be stunned?”

“You, sir, are going to shit.”

“Tell me.”

“BRACE YOURSELF,” CALLIE says.

“Enough buildup,” I say. “Who’s Frankie’s drug contact?”

“Sophie Alexander.”

“ What ? No shit?”

“That’s what I said to Frankie!”

“Sal’s niece?” I say.

“The same.”

“Wow!”

“I said that too!” Callie says.

I visited Sophie’s home in Nashville last month while posing as an FBI agent. I was there to observe the agency’s interrogation of Dani for the murder of her husband. At the time, Dani didn’t know me, but Sophie and I spoke in private, which gave me the opportunity to walk through her home. It was modest on the outside, but the furniture and wall hangings suggested an income beyond what she earned from writing songs. At the time I thought she might be hooking, or selling some weed on the side. But the idea Sophie might be higher up the drug ladder than Frankie De Luca?

Astonishing.

“Hello? Did you fall asleep?” Callie asks.

“Why, you got a flight to catch?”

“I try to stay busy.”

“It’s after midnight.”

“We’re not all a hundred years old.”

“Sad, but true. Did Frankie give you details?”

“Sophie’s a mule. She meets a guy in a different hotel in a different city each month. Depends on where she’s performing. The guy brings her a suitcase full of H. At some point over the next few days she meets Frankie at a pre-determined spot. They exchange suitcases.”

“So Frankie gets next month’s heroin, Sophie gets last month’s cash.”

“That’s right.”

“I’ve never heard of anyone in the drug trade waiting a whole month for payment.”

“She must be dealing with someone at the very top.”

“I don’t suppose Frankie gave you a name?”

“He didn’t know any names.”

“You’re certain?”

“Quite.”

“You asked with extreme prejudice?”

“You know I did. So, are you going to tell Sal about his precious niece?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Did you kill Frankie?”

“Did you tell me to?”

“Yes.” He pauses. Then says, “And you did?”

Callie chuckles. “Yes, Donovan. I killed Frankie. He was in a lot of pain. It was a mercy killing.”

“Then yes, we need to tell Sal. Sooner, not later.”

“ We ?”

“What happened to the dog?”

“Digby’s alive and well. I set out some food and water, and moved the bodies so he won’t be too upset when he comes to. If he’s not found by ten tomorrow, I’ll place an anonymous call to the police.”

“That’s a lot of trouble to go to. Are you going soft on me?”

“I couldn’t bear to kill such an ugly dog.”

“No cameras? No surveillance equipment?”

“None.”

“You find that odd?”

“Not really. Sal’s pretty adamant that his lieutenants keep a low profile.”

“I agree. But speaking of Sal, we need to tell him.”

“That’s the second time you said ‘we.’ What am I missing?”

“Now that I’ve got this new job, I’m hoping you’ll decide to work with me.”

“I already work with you.”

“I mean together. You and me.”

“Sorry, I’m not sure I understand.”

“I want you to help me run Sensory. We’ll work out of the office together.”

“It’s a shit job.”

“Currently, yes. But it doesn’t have to be.”

“You’ve got plans?”

“Lots.”

“Does the committee know about your plans?”

I laugh out loud. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s hilarious. You’ve been on the job a few hours and you’re already fucking the system. I’m all for it. But you’re forgetting something.”

“What’s that?”

“My penthouse in Vegas.”

“So? I’m opening a spa and surgery center in Vegas.”

“What I’m saying, I’m not moving to Virginia.”

“Me either. I’m moving Sensory to Vegas.”

“You can do that?”

“We’ll have two locations. One for geeks, one for freaks.”