Page 92 of Savage Protector
“Where. Did. She. Go?” Tony grinds out the words. He is already poking through the toolbox in search of his next toy.
“Nowhere,” Freddie insists. “Fucking useless cunt, doesn’t matter…”
“Now, now, that’s no way to talk about a lady. You’re testing my patience, Freddie, and I’m afraid it’s coming up negative. Time to try a different approach, I think.”
He’s selected a pair of tough wire cutters, very efficient for removing smaller body parts. He snaps them a couple of times by way of demonstration. “Rome, Beck, hold his hand still. The right one, to start with.”
Freddie takes to screaming at the top of his lungs, but to no avail. Beck grabs his right hand and pins it to the ground, while Rome holds him down. We take care to make sure he’s lying on the tarpaulin, no point leaving too much evidence for curious investigators later.
“Are you quite sure you have nothing to tell us?” Tony positions the wire cutters below the second knuckle on his right index finger.
“It wasn’t me. I never?—”
“What wasn’t you? What happened to Shahida?”
“The Man said… I can’t, he’ll have me killed as well.”
We exchange a glance. Now we’re getting somewhere. “What Man?” Tony presses him.
Freddie shakes his head. “I can’t, I can’t.”
“Okay, if that’s the way you want it.” Tony snaps the wire cutters shut, and the chosen digit drops onto the tarpaulin.
Blood spurts, pooling on the tarpaulin, and Freddy’s anguished screams can probably be heard five miles away.
“Shut the fuck up, or I’ll take your tongue next.”
Freddie subsides into desperate sobbing and pleading. “Please, let me go. I can’t tell you anything else, he’ll kill me.”
“Ah, well, there’s your problem, Freddie. You see, I mean to kill you, too. And I’m right here, right now. I can drag it out or make it quick. Either way, you’re fucked. Your choice, but it’s me you need to worry about.”
He finally sees the wisdom of cooperating. “All right, all right. I’ll tell you what I know. But you have to let me go. I won’t tell anyone what happened here, I swear.”
“Oh, I know you won’t. I’ll make sure of that. You can start by telling me what happened to Shahida. How did she die?”
“I wasn’t my fault. I didn’t want to, but he said she deserved it. Asked for it, he said.”
“What? Happened?” Tony grinds out the question.
“We’d just started making the movies. He said there was good money to be made. The best.”
“The kill movies?” Tony clarifies.
“Yes. Those. It was what the Man wanted.”
“So?” I can tell Tony’s remaining patience is wearing thin.
“So, we needed someone to…to…”
“You put her in one of your snuff reels,” he states. “In a starring role, was she?”
Freddie manages a nod. “I liked Shaz, I would never have?—”
“But you did. When?”
“A while ago. Maybe a week or so…”
“Why? What had she done? To ‘deserve’ it?”
