Chris Mooney - World Without End

Conway picked up the box of matches from the kitchen counter. He saw the cut and bloodied faces waiting for him in the next room and took a step forward, knowing he was about to step over a line and take a journey that would forever alter the way he had come to view himself.

Conway stuffed the box of matches into his back pocket and then turned on the TVJ making sure it was tuned to Channel Five. A commercial for Tide detergent played inside the common room, the volume at a good level but not so loud that he would have to yell over the TV Then he turned around and faced the two men.

The furry one, the Elf, was nothing more than a gofer, doing what he was told. Conway was more interested in Jonathan Cole, the black op specialist and assassin. Conway walked over to Cole and ripped the piece of duct tape off his mouth. The guy didn't even wince.

"I know Raymond Bouchard's behind this. Behind everything," Conway said. His voice sounded deep, steady, foreign to him.

"I saw the video from beginning to end. They were going to use you and kill you."

No surprise in Cole's face. He moved his tongue around the inside of his mouth and teeth, inspecting the damage.

"The guy in the corner behind you, the Elf, I saw him on the video,"

Conway said.

"He helped Owen Lee, the vegetable we found lying in the van, plant the drugs and surveillance gear inside my friend's apartment."

Cole spit out a bloody clump on the floor, right next to Conway's black shoe.

"Where is Mr. Lee now?" he asked.

"On his way to the hospital. Looks like someone chewed his ear off.

Any idea what happened?"

Cole made a wet, smacking sound with his lips.

"None," he said.

Why the fuck is he acting so calm?

The only answer Conway came up with was that Cole was trying to stall to gain some time. Cole wasn't stupid. He had to know his men couldn't sneak into this part of town. The streets were covered.

Don't underestimate him, a voice warned.

"Do you have the video with you?" Cole asked.

"I'd like to watch it."

"Where are you hiding Dixon and Renee Kaufmann?"

"If I tell you, what do I get?"

"You get to live."

"So if I don't tell you, you'll do what, torture me? Kill me?" Cole coughed, grinned.

"You don't send in a Boy Scout to a, how shall I say, an information gathering session."

Conway stepped back into the kitchen. He picked up the jug of gasoline, unscrewed the black cap, and came back into the living room and started dumping gasoline over Cole's head. The guy clamped his eyes shut and winced as the gas burned the gashes on his face. When the tank was half empty, Conway placed it back on the floor and then reached into his pocket and came back with a box of wooden cigar matches.

"You give up Dixon and Kaufmann and I promise not to turn you into a human candlestick," Conway said.

"That's the deal."

"What about the suit?"

"I don't give a flying fuck about the suit."

"And what about Raymond? Do you give a flying fuck about him?"

"Bouchard will get what's coming to him."

"He'll snake his way out of it. I've seen him do it dozens of times."

"Not this time."

"Raymond Bouchard's a powerful man." Cole said.

"He has a powerful agency at his disposal. As long as he's alive, you'll never be safe."

"Last time: Where are you hiding Dixon and Kaufmann?"

"You're not the only one in this room who's been betrayed. I know what Raymond had planned for me. I think I have a right to justice.

Instead, you've got me tied up here, threatening me with torture. You kill me, you'll be killing an innocent man."

"Stop pretending you're a cherry. I know what you do for a living."

"I've got nothing to do with what happened to you in Austin, or what happened to your friend. If you watched the video, then you know that."

"Renee Kaufman. Where is she?"

"She's dead."

Conway felt something hot and sharp pierce his stomach.

"Raymond Bouchard tortured Renee Kaufmann for information on you and the location of the CD, and she wouldn't speak," Cole said.

"Then he cut her into bits."

Over Cole's shoulder, Conway saw the Elf's eyes pop up in surprise before they dropped back down to the floor.

Cole's lying.

"Bouchard's moved Dixon," Cole said.

"Now that you know the code, Dixon's going to get turned into fertilizer. I can help you, Steve. I can help you save Dixon. I know where Raymond is staying. You let me out of here, I'll take you to him. You can bring your friends along too, if you don't trust me. You want to save Dixon, then you have to release me. That's the deal. It's not up for negotiation."

Conway picked up the gas tank, stormed over to the Elf and started dumping gas on him, the stocky, furry animal twisting against his restraints, screaming behind the tape. The gas fumes were overpowering. If Conway lit a match now, the whole room would blow.

The can empty, Conway tossed it aside, hearing it bounce against the floor, and opened the window behind the Elf. The cold winter air rushed inside, clearing the the room of fumes, making it easier to breathe. Conway removed the box of matches, took out a match, and then ripped off the piece of tape from the Elf's mouth. He held the unlit match front of the Elf's face.

"The flames will eat away at the tape and rope, but by the time you're free, you'll be permanently disfigured," Conway said, his anger separating each word.

"You want to spend the rest of your life in a burn unit? Or you want to walk out of here in one piece?"

"Torturing is the business of cowards, Stephen," Cole said.

Conway's eyes and attention remained focused on the Elf. He said, "You don't answer my question, I'll turn you into a human candle."

The Elf's eyes kept bouncing from the match to Cole.

"Your choice," Conway said and then lit the match.

The Elf jumped as if shocked, his mouth open in horror. His beaten, bloody face glowed in the flame's soft yellow and orange light. Conway moved the match closer.

"Jesus Christ, okay, don't fucking do it!" the Elf screamed.

Conway recognized the voice and froze.

"Keith Harring," he said.

"That's correct," Cole said.

"Mr. Alves played the part of Keith Harring to lure you inside Praxis to have you killed. The man you met inside the lab was Misha. You were supposed to die in the fire, Stephen. They were supposed to blame the whole episode on you and your colleague, Randy Scott. That's why Misha had you shoot him. Raymond Bouchard wanted everyone wiped out, only you survived."

"Fucking listen to me!" the Elf screamed.

"Cole is the one who tortured the girl and chopped her up and bit off Owen Lee's ear. I fucking saw it!"

"You wouldn't be lying to me, would you?" Conway asked and moved the flame closer.

"Jesus Fucking Christ, get that away! The Elf stopped and then sucked in air. He looked like was on the verge of tears.

"Dude, I'm begging you, man, please."

"My Palm Pilot is equipped with a transmitter, right?"

"And a bug, yeah, we can listen in on you." The Elf's eyes were locked on the flame slowly burning its way through the long wooden matchstick.

"Where's the surveillance van now?"

"Downstairs, all fucked up. Nobody else can track you, I swear."

"Where's Dixon?"

"If I give you the address you've got to let me go."

"This match is starting to get hot. I don't know how long I can hold it."

"Cole's men are coming for you, right now," the Elf stammered. He swallowed and stammered again.

"They'll come in here, they'll kill me, you, all of us, don't you fucking get it?"

This guy tried to kill you. You almost burned to death inside the lab.

Throw the match and let him burn.

"Where's Dixon?" Conway said and moved the flame closer to the Elf's gasoline-soaked lap, ready to turn him into a candle. Let them all burn.