Basement Man (A Jack Ryan Mystery Thriller) Page 2
“This look like fun. May I join?” I said and felt her body tense up.
“What do you want? Please?” His voice was dry.
“Justice.” The knife found the contours of her breasts. Beautiful small perky breasts. I felt my own excitement grow.
“Justice?” He tried to get up.
The knife cut into the soft flesh of the girl. Opening a small wound underneath one of her breasts. She screamed from underneath my hand.
“Stay where you are,” I ordered, tightening my hand around the girl’s mouth.
“Okay. Please don’t hurt us.”
I snorted, “If you confess.”
“Confess what?” he asked.
“Raping a high school girl with your buddies.” His eyes told me the truth. I knew his mouth would not.
“We did not rape…”
I pulled the girl to my left and shot the knife into the young man’s shoulder. Before he screamed I pushed the girl back and pulled the knife out.
“You raped the girl at the house party.” I said and watched the blood pour out of his shoulder.
His eyes was watery. “We had some fun with her.”
“I am sure you did not know this? That your boyfriend is a rapist?” I felt the girl breathing harder. “You call it fun. I call it rape. Now you can meet up with your brothers.”
His eyes widened momentarily before I planted the knife into his eye socket. He had no chance. Died in a few prolonged spasms.
The girl started to fight. To scream. But she was nothing more than a kicking puppy in my arms.
“Hush,” I whispered and pinned her to the bed. “Time to say goodnight.”
* * *
I was halfway down the stairs towards the basement door when I heard the call.
I did not turn around, “Did you find a target?”
“No,” Nancy said and sounded disappointed.
My phone rang.
“Randal.”
“Yes master,” I answered.
“I have a job for you.”
“Yes,”
“The man you are living with.”
“He is on a weekend away,” I said. Suddenly I knew why The Puppet Master insisted I stayed here.
“I know. However, on Tuesday he will testify in an arson trail. He must not testify. He has two daughters?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Well I am sure he does not want to lose them both?”
I glanced at Nancy and smiled. “I will make sure he gets the message.”
“Thank you Randall. I will have my people clean the frat house.”
I felt a numbness over me, “How did you know?”
“I know everything. Finish this job. Let your apprentice do it. Make sure it sends the message.”
I looked at Nancy. He already knew about her.
“It will Master. Thank you,” I said and switched the phone off.
I turned to Nancy “Do you still want to learn?”
“Yes.”
“Well we have a target.”
I opened the door.
Meghan was on my bed. I gave Nancy the knife.
“Make it worth my while. But don’t mutilate her. I will show you what we do after she dies.”
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Extract from Jack Ryan’s Latest book!
Retribution
By Jack Ryan and Marc Webb
They say that she was dead on impact... she didn't feel a thing, they try to assure me.
Do you think that their attempts at trying to make me feel better about the loss of my only daughter is having a calming effect on me? Do you think they're succeeding in soothing the rage tearing at the very fabric of my soul?
Damn straight it doesn't!
I don't know why they even try to pacify me.
But what frustrates me the most is not the fact that these medical people are trying to talk down to me like I'm a child. What irritates the living shit out of me is the fact that the highly intoxicated fuck-knuckle that crushed my only daughter into a brick wall with his supped-up roadster is sitting a mere few feet away from me and there is absolutely nothing that I can do to him.
All I can do is stare at him while police take his testimony. He doesn't seem distraught or remorseful at all, and this builds up the rage. After what seems like forever, the policeman shakes his hand and pats him on the shoulder before walking off.
"Excuse me," I call out to the cop as I catch up to him. "What's going to happen to him?"
The cop looks at me with a blank expression plastered on his face. "Him?" he asks. “Him who?”
I want to smack him on the side of the head so that he can wake up. "The driver," I say instead.
"Oh, him," he says and nods his head in the direction of the kid. "He'll be tried in court and justice will take its course."
"Aren't you going to arrest him?" I ask with a slight shriek in my voice. "He's obviously intoxicated!"
"The breathalyzer showed that he is well within the legal limits. Now if you would excuse me, I have a double homicide to get to."
"But you never tested him for..." My words trail off as a black limousine pulls up and I suddenly realize who the kid is that slammed into Katie. The tinted back window slides down and a huge, bald man beacons the kid. I look as the young man almost falls over three times before he reaches the car. He exchanges words with the man and flails his arms through the air before walking around and then getting into the limo from the other side. As the limo pulls off, I realize that nothing's going to happen to this kid. He's the son of Ralph Maloney, the city's Kingpin and drug lord. My heart sinks into my gut as I realize that even if the punk ever does see his day in court, nothing will happen to him.
I hope I'm wrong...
* * *
The court proceedings went exactly as I expected it would. The Judge found some legal loophole to throw the case out of court, and by watching the smug little runt's demeanor, one didn't have to be a rocket scientist to see that he knew how things were going to turn out.
I keep an eye on the Judge and Jury members for a few days after the mistrial, and it's easy to see Ralph Maloney's influence. The lady who drove a rusted, beaten up Volkswagen Beetle the one day, suddenly drove a Mercedes Benz SLK the next. The family man, who suddenly moved from a shoddy one room apartment in a shitty part of town, now lives in a five room mansion in one of the more upper class suburbs. The list goes on and on, and all the way to the top of the list; the Judge who just received an anonymous donation of seven figures. How generous these anonymous people are.
A few days later, I follow Ralph's boy to see if the kid shows any sign of remorse, but all I see is him hanging out at clubs, having a great time, and then leaving while so heavily intoxicated that he can't walk straight. He gets into his car every time and speeds off.
I guess it's settled then.
If the law wants to turn a blind eye at bringing justice to Katie's killer, I will have to do something I haven't done since my wife had been murdered ten years ago.
For justice to take its course, I would have to take matters into my own hands.
For the first time since Helen's death, I will have to kill for personal reasons.
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