Anaheim Run

Chapter Eight

“One more time,” Blade said. “Where are you from?”

“Get screwed!” the assassin retorted angrily.

“This is gettin’ us nowhere,” Bear commented, hefting his M-16.

They were interrogating the prisoner in a small room on the second floor. The man in the kitchen worker’s clothes was tied to a chair positioned in the middle of the floor.

Blade, slowly pacing in front of the chair, glanced at the assassin. “You could make this easy on yourself by cooperating.”

“Go play with yourself!” was the response.

“Is your name really Emery?” Blade queried.

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Emery retorted.

Bear, standing to the left of the chair, frowned. “Let me work this sucker over, Blade. He’ll talk.”

“I’ll never talk!” Emery stated defiantly.

Blade stopped and faced the assassin. The cross-examination was getting them nowhere and he had important business elsewhere, namely guarding Plato. He didn’t like being away from the Family Leader, not when another attempt could be made on his kindly mentor’s life at any moment. And his anxiety over Plato was compounded by his apprehension about Hickok. The gunman had been gone way too long, leaving Blade to conclude Hickok was up to his neck in hot water once again.

Hot water!

Blade motioned for Bear to move away from the chair, and Emery watched them nervously as Blade whispered in the black’s left ear.

Bear nodded. “You got it, bro. I’ll be right back.” He opened the door and departed.

“I’m not going to talk!” Emery insisted. “And nothing you do will make me!”

Blade folded his arms across his chest. “We’ll see, tough guy.”

Emery attempted to spit at the Warrior, but missed.

“Anyone ever tell you that you have lousy manners?” Blade quipped.

“Joke while you can, prick!” Emery taunted. “You won’t be laughing when all of your leaders are dead!”

“I owe allegiance to only one leader,” Blade mentioned. “And no harm will befall him while I’m alive.” He ran his right hand along the strap of the M-16 slung over his right shoulder.

“You can’t stop us, Warrior! No one can!” Emery snapped.

“Thank you,” Blade said.

“For what?” Emery rejoined.

“For confirming there are more than one of you left,” Blade stated.

“If you only knew!” Emery remarked, sneering.

The sound of a commotion broke out in the hallway outside of the room. Loud noises were raised in argument.

Blade walked to the doorway.

The Cavalryman Hamlin and General Gallagher were involved in a shoving and shouting match. The stocky officer was nose-to-nose with the bantam frontiersman, and neither was giving an inch.

“What’s going on here?” Blade demanded.

Hamlin wagged his Winchester at the general. “He wanted in. I told him you said no one was to go inside, but the mutton-head wouldn’t listen.”

General Gallagher glared at Hamlin. “I’ll be damned if a scrawny runt like you is going to tell me what to do!”

“You did the right thing,” Blade said to Hamlin. He looked at the general. “What are you doing here?”

Gallagher’s mouth curled downward. “I came to apologize,” he said bleakly.

“You? Apologize?” Blade studied the officer. “Why?”

General Gallagher stared into the Warrior’s probing eyes. “Because Governor Melnick just reamed my ass over what happened earlier. He ordered me to apologize. So I’m apologizing.”

Blade suppressed a grin. He had to admire the general’s honesty.

Governor Melnick, accompanied by President Toland and two of Toland’s assistants, had arrived a short while ago. Melnick and Toland had immediately repaired to the conference room and joined the other heads of state. Undoubtedly Plato had informed Melnick about the incident with the general, and Melnick had called Gallagher on the carpet.

“I’m not apologizing for what I believe in,” General Gallagher said. “I still don’t believe in this treaty.”

“I’m not asking you to compromise your beliefs,” Blade assured the officer. “All I want is for you to give the treaty the benefit of the doubt until it proves itself. The Free State government isn’t committed to any specific course of action by signing the treaty, other than agreeing to aid any other member of the Federation should one of us be attacked. What harm can it do to wait and see how the treaty works out before you condemn it? If, six months or a year from now, you feel the treaty has been detrimental to California in any respect, then plead your case before Governor Melnick. Wouldn’t he be more inclined to hear you out if you possessed hard evidence supporting your dislike of the treaty?”

General Gallagher appeared surprised by Blade’s reasoning. He slowly nodded. “You are a very persuasive man, for a Warrior.”

“Thanks. I think.” Blade began to reenter the room.

“Wait,” General Gallagher said.

“What is it?” Blade asked.

“I’d like to join you, if you don’t mind,” Gallagher stated.

“Is this an official request from Governor Melnick?” Blade inquired.

“No,” General Gallagher admitted. “The governor has no objections to you questioning the prisoner. This is my request. As potential allies, doesn’t it make sense to work together on this?”

Blade nodded. “It does. But I’m surprised you’d want to work with a Warrior. After all, according to you we’re not worth shit.”

“Touché,” General Gallagher said.

“You really want to work together?”

“I do,” General Gallagher confirmed.

“Then let’s get at it,” Blade declared and entered the room.

General Gallagher grinned at Hamlin and followed Blade.

“Well look at this!” Emery baited them. “They’ve brought in reinforcements. Where’d you get those bushy eyebrows, general? You look like you’re part ape!”

General Gallagher marched up to Emery’s chair. “We want answers, and we want them now! Why did you try to assassinate the Federation leaders? We know you were hired to work in the kitchen a week ago. Were you planted here because of the summit?”

Emery snorted. “You don’t get nothing out of me, asshole!”

General Gallagher glanced at Blade. “What are we going to do?”

“Wait,” Blade replied.

“For what?”

Blade looked at the doorway. “This.”

Bear returned, a large pot of steaming water held in his left hand. “Here we go,” he said to Blade. “They had this already on the stove, gettin’ set for supper.”

Blade grasped the pot handle.

Emery was anxiously gazing at the steaming water, his mouth working back and forth, his teeth gnashing together. “What’s that for?”

“Guess,” Blade said.

“Scalding water won’t make me talk,” Emery declared, hut his tone lacked conviction.

Blade moved over to the chair. He dangled the pot under Emery’s chin.

“It won’t?”

“No!” Emery responded angrily.

“We’ll see,” Blade commented, leaning down until his eyes were level with Emery’s. “Here’s the way it is. I need certain information from you, and you will supply the answers one way or the other.”

“Don’t hold your breath!” Emery scoffed.

“I’ve questioned a number of prisoners in my time,” Blade informed the assassin. “Experience is a great teacher. For instance, my experience tells me you’re one tough son of a bitch. Am I right?”

Emery smiled, his chest expanding. “You’ve got that right!”

“And tough guys like you never, ever talk,” Blade went on. “I could tear your fingernails out and you wouldn’t cooperate.”

“You’re not so dumb after all!” Emery jeered.

“I could break your arms and your legs and you wouldn’t talk,” Blade stated.

“A waste of your time,” Emery pompously agreed.

“But I wonder what would happen if I poured scalding water all over your balls,” Blade said innocently.

Emery blanched. “What?”

“I wonder how tough you would be if I poured this pot of scalding water on your crotch,” Blade repeated.

Emery looked down and gulped. “You wouldn’t!”

Blade smiled maliciously. “There’s one way to find out.”

“You’re bluffing!” Emery persisted.

Blade squatted, dangling the pot between his legs. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not bluffing. You see, Emery, I learned an important lesson a long time ago. Most men, no matter how much inner strength they may possess, can not tolerate the thought of having their penis injured.” He paused. “How about you, Emery? You’re quite skilled at your trade, I’ll grant you that. But how devoted are you to your superiors? Devoted enough to suffer the agony of having your pecker blistered by scorching water? Devoted enough to have your balls boiled? Devoted enough to risk possibly never experiencing sex again?”

Emery glared at the Warrior, grinding his teeth.

“I’m going to ask you a question,” Blade stated. “If you don’t answer, I’m going to pour some of this water on your lap. Ready?”

“Fuck you!” Emery screamed.

“Suit yourself.” Blade rose, holding the pot above the assassin’s groin.

“Who’s behind the assassination attempts?”

“I don’t know,” Emery responded.

Blade started to tilt the pot of steaming water.

“Honest I don’t!” Emery yelled, panic-stricken. “We’re never given the identity of our employer in case we’re caught!”

Blade hesitated, the pot at an angle, the water near the edge. “You keep using the plural, which means you belong to an organization and you work under someone else. What’s the name of the organization? And who is your boss?”

Emery was trying to grind his teeth down to the gums. He stopped, his eyes locked on the pot. “If they find out I talked, they’ll kill me!”

Blade went to dump the water.

“Wait!” Emery screeched, his eyes wide. “The Gild! I belong to the Gild!”

“What is this Gild?” Blade queried.

“It’s a brotherhood of assassins,” Emery revealed, scowling.

“What’s the name of your leader?” Blade asked.

Emery shook his head. “I can’t! I can’t!”

“Suit yourself.” Blade tipped the pot.

Emery’s neck muscles bulged, his face reddening, as a stream of hissing water splashed onto his lap. The scalding liquid penetrated his kitchen uniform, seeping through the fabric and enveloping his genitals. Emery went crazy, bucking and thrashing against his rope bonds, bouncing the chair, uttering an inarticulate cry.

Blade stopped pouring. He patiently waited until the assassin ceased shaking. “All right. That was just a taste of what will happen if I upend the entire pot. So one more time. What’s the name of your leader?”

Emery was sagging in the chair, his face beet red, continuing to gnash his teeth. “Kraken,” he said feebly.

“Kraken?”

“That’s right,” Emery confirmed.

“Where is the Gild based? Here in California? The Civilized Zone? Or in Soviet territory?” Blade asked.

“None of them,” Emery replied.

“Then where?” Blade persisted.

“Paris.”

Blade did a double take. “Paris, France?”

Emery nodded weakly, his teeth grinding-grinding-grinding.

“You’re not French,” Blade noted.

“Canadian,” Emery said. “I was born in Saskatchewan.”

“This Gild is an international organization?” Blade questioned.

Emery nodded.

“How many members are there worldwide?” Blade inquired.

“Thirty-six,” Emery replied.

“How many came to California?”

“Twelve,” Emery divulged.

Blade’s forehead creased as he pondered the news. A brotherhood of assassins! And they had brought one third of their membership to California to slay the Federation leaders, which meant they were determined to see the job through at all costs. But the crucial information was still missing: the identity of the party responsible for hiring the Gild.

He heard Emery crunching his teeth together and he gazed down at the assassin, mortified. Why was the man grinding his teeth so much?

Emery unexpectedly straightened, a smile lighting his face. “Finally!” he exclaimed in relief.

“Finally what?” Blade asked.

“Finally I don’t need to answer any more of your damn questions!” Emery retorted.

Blade elevated the pot an inch. “You don’t?”

“No, bastard,” Emery said. “I don’t! Go ahead! Pour the water! See if I care!”

Blade was perplexed by the assassin’s evident sincerity.

“It should only take a couple of minutes,” Emery stated.

“What should?” Blade wanted to know.

Emery grinned. “For me to die.”

Blade looked at General Gallagher, who shrugged, indicating he was stumped too.

“You’re not going to die,” Blade said.

Emery laughed bitterly. “Wrong, asshole! The poison is already in my system. There’s nothing you can do.”

Blade leaned forward. “Poison? What poison?”

“The poison from the capsule contained in my false tooth,” Emery explained.

“You took poison?” Blade inquired in amazement.

“Give the bright boy a prize!” Emery quipped.

“He’s bluffing,” General Gallagher commented.

“You think so, huh?” Emery said, sneering at the officer. “Shows how much you know.”

“That’s why you’ve been grinding your teeth!” Blade deduced. “To break the capsule!”

“To break the false tooth,” Emery corrected him. “The damn thing didn’t break as easily as they said it would.” He chuckled at some private joke. “They extract one of our wisdom teeth and implant a fake containing the capsule. All we have to do is grind our teeth until the fake breaks, and out comes the capsule. One swallow and the job is done.” His eyelids began to droop.

Blade placed the pot on the floor and gripped Emery by the shoulders.

“What kind of poison is it? There might be an antidote.”

Emery tittered. “No antidote.”

“How do you know? What kind of poison is it?” Blade pressed him.

“Too late,” Emery said, his head nodding.

“Emery!” Blade shook him.

“Let the idiot die,” General Gallagher remarked. “It’s no great loss.”

“We should try to help him,” Blade said, straightening.

“Why bother?” General Gallagher countered. “A minute ago you were ready to boil his balls, and now you want to help him? You don’t make any sense.”

“I was ready to torture him for the intelligence we need,” Blade admitted, “but this is different. It’s a waste. The Family doesn’t believe in meaningless killing.”

“But I heard you Family types are real spiritual,” General Gallagher observed. “If this son of a bitch has a soul or whatever you want to call it, he’ll survive death, won’t he? So what’s the big deal?”

“A soul only survives if the person possesses faith,” Blade stated, watching Emery’s mouth twitch.

“Either way, his death will not be any great loss,” General Gallagher stated.

Blade gazed at the officer with a stern look of disapproval on his face.

“What’s with you?” General Gallagher asked defensively.

Blade crouched, feeling for a pulse. Emery’s eyes were closed, his chest immobile.

“Is the sucker dead?” Bear queried.

“He’s dead,” Blade verified.

“Good riddance,” General Gallagher muttered.

“We needed him,” Blade stated irritably.

“No we didn’t,” General Gallagher disputed him. “What’s with you? You’re the one who’s supposed to have killed dozens, maybe hundreds, according to all the rumors floating around. So why are you getting all misty-eyed over one lousy hit man?”

Blade stared at Gallagher. “I’m not getting misty-eyed. When I said we needed him, I meant it. I wanted to discover the location of their local base of operations before they strike again.” He paused, sighing. “And as far as the number of foes I’ve dispatched to the next life is concerned, I haven’t counted them. But I do know this. Every time I’ve killed an enemy, it’s been out of necessity, not out of revenge or for the sheer thrill of killing. Every enemy I’ve faced has been a threat to my Family or myself.”

“The noble Warrior, eh?” General Gallagher said, and chuckled.

Blade suppressed his rising temper. “I’ve been honest with you. Now why don’t you be honest with me?”

“What do you want to know?” Gallagher asked.

“How the hell someone as tactless as you ever got to be a general in the first place?” Blade remarked.

Gallagher wheeled and stormed from the room.

Bear laughed and moved closer to Blade. “You sure laid it on that jive-ass honky!”

“I shouldn’t antagonize him,” Blade commented.

“Don’t sweat it, man,” Bear said. “The turkey goes around askin’ for it. What I want to know is what we’re goin’ to do next?”

“There’s nothing we can do,” Blade stated, “except wait for their side to make the next move.”