Джанет Иванович - Twisted Twenty-Six

Grandma and I gave a start at the sound of rounds being fired. Grandma pressed her lips together, and I put my arm around her.

Shine backed through the doorway, dragging Bernie to the side of the room, leaving a fresh blood smear on the concrete floor.

“Fucking amateur,” Shine said, and he walked away from Bernie and over to Salgusta. “Now that we got two of them, do you want to change the plan?”

“No,” Salgusta said. “It’s still a good plan. I can work here. It’s isolated. Nobody’s going to come bother us. And it’s got good acoustics. You torture someone in a room with rugs and curtains, and it mutes the sound of their moaning and screaming. Takes some of the fun out of it.”

“Jesus, Lou,” Shine said, “you’re a sick bastard.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“THE COT IS TOO LOW for me to work on,” Salgusta said, “but the table over by the sandbags will be good. Help me move it so it’s under the light. My eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

“Maybe you’ve got cataracts,” Grandma said. “I’ve got a good doctor for that.”

“Yeah, I’ll have to look into it,” Salgusta said.

They moved the table and brought two of the suitcases over. Salgusta opened the cases and stepped back.

“These are all my knives and pliers and restraints,” he said. “We can put the women on the table face up and tie them down with the buckle straps and ankle and wrist cuffs. It’ll work good. We attach one bracelet to a table leg and the other bracelet to a wrist or ankle. I got some big ones for ankles.” He checked Grandma out. “The old one is kind of scrawny. Maybe we use a wrist bracelet on her ankle.”

“I got good ankles,” Grandma said. “They’re one of my best features. They haven’t started to sag yet.”

“My torches must be in one of the other two suitcases,” Salgusta said. “I always like to start with the torches.” He looked over at me. “In the meantime, you should get undressed. I’m going to start with you, and I need you to be naked.” He looked to Grandma. “You too, Granny. You might as well get undressed now too. It’ll save time.”

Grandma gave him the finger.

“Nice,” Salgusta said. “How is that for an old lady to act?”

Shine brought a third suitcase over to the table and opened it. “This looks like the right one,” he said.

Salgusta took a slim silver tool out of the case. “This is the one I always start with. This is a beauty. I do real pretty work with this. It’s my precision butane soldering torch. This is the one that I use for my trademark signature. After I’m done with that one, I go to my Bernzomatic.”

He exchanged the small soldering torch for the Bernzomatic. He attached a yellow cylinder to the torch and held it up for us to see.

“It’s got a quick start-and-stop trigger,” he said.

He pressed the trigger, and a huge blue flame shot out of the torch.

“Yeah,” he said. “This is what I’m talking about. You could do a good burn with this baby.”

I still had my arm around Grandma, and I felt her shudder.

Salgusta set the Bernzomatic on the table and went back to the little silver torch. He inserted a slim silver canister into the tool and pressed a tiny switch. Nothing happened. He removed the canister and shook it next to his ear. He reinserted it and tried again. Nothing.

“Empty,” he said.

“You got a spare, right?” Shine said.

Salgusta pawed through the suitcase. “Doesn’t look like it. I haven’t had any use for this lately. Nobody wants burn jobs anymore.”

“So, bypass the signature and go for the money,” Shine said.

“No. That would be all wrong. I have a system. That would ruin everything. I just have to get a cartridge. Where’s the nearest Home Depot?”

“I’m not going to no Home Depot,” Shine said. “Can’t you burn your initials into them with a match or a Bic?”

“Maybe,” Shine said. “Do you have any matches?”

“No. I had to give up smoking. I got emphysema. Once in a while I have a cigar.” He felt his pockets. “I don’t have any matches. Don’t you have matches? You’re the burn guy.”

“I don’t usually burn with matches. It’s not like I’m a pyromaniac. I’m an intelligence-gathering specialist.”

“Okay, so you got a Bic?”

“No. I don’t have a Bic. I have a Bernzomatic, and I’m not using it until I’ve autographed my victims.”

“Okay, fine. Go to Home Depot. Take my car. I’ll stay here and get the women stripped down.”

“That won’t work,” Salgusta said. “I need someone to drive. I lost my license from when I ran into the school bus. Anyway, these women aren’t going anywhere. We can leave them alone for a half hour.”

“This better not drag on,” Shine said. “I got a one o’clock appointment for a blood draw.”

“You got a cholesterol problem?”

“Yeah, but I’m on meds for that. This is prediabetes.”

“They’re gonna tell you to lay off the grape.”

“I’m already off the grape. I switched to vodka. It’s potatoes. Vegetables are good for you.”

Bernie had left the key in the door. They took the key, closed the door, and locked it.

“I’m going to get us out of here,” I whispered to Grandma. I heard their car engine turn over, and I strained to hear them drive away.

“How are you going to do this?” Grandma asked.

“Shine dragged Bernie to this side of the room. I think I might be able to reach him. He’s got the padlock key in his pocket.”

I walked the chain out, but I was short. I lay flat on the floor and grabbed Bernie’s foot. I pulled him a couple feet closer, was able to get to my knees, and pulled him far enough to reach into his pocket. I found the key and scrambled away from the body. I ran to the bathroom and discovered the key didn’t unlock that padlock. I tried it on my ankle padlock and had success.

“Hang on,” I said to Grandma. “There’s another key.”

I went back to Bernie and searched his pockets again. Sure enough, a second key. I unlocked the bathroom padlock and Grandma was set free, but she still had the chain attached to her handcuffs.

“I didn’t feel another key in any of his pockets,” I said. “And I don’t want to take any more time to look. Just hang on to the chain for now.”

I grabbed the Bernzomatic that was sitting on the table and ran to the door. It was locked on the outside but not on the inside. I opened the door, looked out, and didn’t see a car or a truck. Shine and Salgusta were gone. Bernie must have parked someplace else. The recycling container was still there.

The storeroom faced the back of the garage that housed the concrete trucks. I led Grandma around the garage and was about to cross a parking area when I saw a car coming at us.

“It’s them,” Grandma said. “They must have forgot something.”

I pulled Grandma into the garage through an open door and hoped we hadn’t been spotted. There were seven massive concrete mixer trucks parked inside. They were all red and yellow with the Concrete Plant logo on the mixing drum. I climbed up on the cab of the third truck and looked in the window. Keys were in the ignition.

“This is it,” I said to Grandma.

I ran around and opened the passenger’s side door for her. She got her foot on the high step and couldn’t get any further.

“Alley-oop!” I said, shoving her up with my hand on her butt, sending Grandma sprawling across the seat.

I slammed the door closed, ran around, jumped behind the wheel, and turned the key. The truck rumbled to life just as Shine and Salgusta appeared in the open doorway. I was desperately trying to find a garage door opener when Shine reached the truck and wrenched the driver’s side door open. I grabbed the Bernzomatic and pulled the trigger. A massive flame shot out. Shine screamed and fell back. I pulled the door closed, put the truck in gear, floored the gas pedal, and crashed through the bay door. I careened to a stop in the parking area and put my hand to my heart. It was beating at stroke level.