I knew he was holding back even as I drew back my fist for another blow. “Please, please no more…” he blubbered through broken teeth and bubbling blood. My fist paused at the apex of its power driven arc.
I began to smile wolfishly. “Go on.” I said “Where is Jack Reagan?” He breathed heavily, his eyes on the fist that was just begging to be let loose. I kept it under control. I had to learn where Reagan was.
“Well?” I said menacingly. His eyes had grown distant and I was afraid he was going to pass out. I couldn’t let this thread go. It was the only lead I had found for days. He didn’t say anything for a long minute and I let the fist have its way.
Color splattered the wall as blood and spittle met dirty grey concrete. He was going to tell me or I would beat him to death. Tonight I wasn’t a cop. I was an avenger. Jack Reagan was my partner, my best friend, husband to my sister Marie. And he was missing.
It had been 4 days now. We were all worried and feared the worst. No ransom, no contact. I was almost sure he was dead, I just needed a body for the funeral home to bury. I had buried enough empty coffins after the war. I couldn’t do it again. Not to Marie. Not to the boys, Jake and Steve may have been my nephews, but they were the closest thing I thought I would ever come to boys of my own.
My other fist caught him under the chin, snapping his head back and bringing another groan and the pleading “nonononononononomore no more…” “Where is Jack Reagan?” I said in a slow menacing voice. “Hospital” a whisper came from the broken gang member I had tied to the chair.
“Nice try.” I said. “I already checked all of the hospitals under his name and all John Doe’s. Not there” I satiated my fists quest for blood again. He was crying and blubbering again. “P-p-private hospital. Rest home. In between Springfield and Smithson.”
I punched again, in the stomach this time, knocking the wind out of him. He was catching his breath as I said, “Why would he be there?” He panted now and tried to talk. “The boss changed his mind. He didn’t want him dead after he survived the head on collision on highway 9. They stuck him in the hospital. I don’t know the name”
My fist again. “WHAT HOSPITAL IS IT?!?!” I screamed into his face. “I don’t know!” He shouted back. “I don’t know….” He started to cry harder. “It’s in between Springfield and Smithson that’s all I know. Please, that’s all I know.”
“Fine.” I said as I wiped my blood spattered hands on a rag. I put my shoulder holster back on followed by my jacket. “One last thing” I said to him. “Who is the boss?” “ I don…” he started.
I drew my .45 and aimed it at him. “Who is the boss?” “Y-y-you are” he stammered as I cocked the weapon in my hand. “Wrong answer smart ass. Your boss” I said. “Raymond Cabrese.” He said in a thin voice now.
“Cabrese.” I said. We had been after him for a long time. Typical organized crime stuff, drugs, stolen goods, prostitution. Now he had attempted to murder a cop, and then kidnapped him. It would have been easier if they had picked another cop to pick on. I could channel a terrier most of the time and I don’t give up.
I didn’t remember the report as the .45 barked and spewed its flame. I could only hear the tinkle of the brass as it hit the concrete and came to rest. I couldn’t decide if I was upset I had killed this guy or not. He had to die one way or another.
I had just declared war on Raymond Cabrese and his crew. There was going to be a lot of blood flowing tonight. I pulled the string on the single lightbulb above the corpse’s head, turned around, and left the room for the darkness of the street and a rest home in between Springfield and Smithson.
