Time to Collect
A fist crashed into his jaw, stars erupting across Wolfe's vision. He opened his eyes and found a well-dressed man smiling at him. Several thuggish men with weapons stood guard nearby with one particularly brutal bastard with three gold teeth who kept staring at him. They were somewhere in a warehouse full of crates labeled FLAMMABLE and plenty of drums of things that stank of toxic chemicals.
The well-dressed man stepped forward and Wolfe cleared his head quickly. He needed to be sharp for this. His hands were bound with tightly coiled twine that felt like it was cutting into the flesh of his wrists. His overcoat sleeve, he felt something...yes. It was still there. "You know something about a person I'm very interested in, Mr. Wolfe. I brought you here to ensure we would have some privacy for this...interview."
"Who would that be, exactly?" Wolfe asked sarcastically but felt that he knew who the man was after.
He cleared his throat. "My name is Joseph Reed, and I think you know who I'm looking for. Booker DeWitt is an individual who owes me a considerable amount of money as well as possessing unique talents."
Wolfe laughed and said, "Sorry, don't know him. I can tell you where to find a good doctor to take care of whatever you've got stuck up our a-"
Reed's face contorted with rage. In a fit of uncontrollable anger he smashed his fists into the helpless man's face with an infuriating grin. When it subsided he found himself shaking, but he took a deep breath and straightened his tie which had come askew. Without a trace of the blind fury that had just overcome him, Reed displayed a face utterly calm when he said," This is very important to me, finding Mr. DeWitt. I know you helped him several weeks ago. The man will pay his debts to me one way or another."
"What are you talking about?, "asked Wolfe, feigning ignorance but it didn't fool Reed for a moment. Gesturing to one of his men who handed him a crowbar. Before his head had really cleared he felt a blinding pain as the steel smashed into his abdomen, a rib breaking audibly. Blows continued to rain down upon the battered prisoner who uttered no sound. One cracked across his face while he attempted to stop from blacking out from the agony wracking his body and he managed to stay conscious.
Bringing his head up to face Reed, he spat some blood onto the floor and remained silent as the grave. Motioning for one of the others to take over, the man who took a step forward slipped something on to the knuckles of his right hand before it slammed into his face like a freight train running at full speed. Leaning nonchalantly against a stack of crates Reed called out,"This can stop anytime. Just tell me what I want to know!" He observed the beating go on. He continued,"I am well aware what you do Mr. Wolfe."
There was a pause in the violence as the man caught his breath. Suddenly, Wolfe started laughing.
It was loud, mocking, clawing at the minds of the men inside of the warehouse, echoing like sound of Lucifer's own merriment as he spread evil and pain. All of them had the unsettling feeling that he wasn't their prisoner, but that they were the ones trapped with him. "You do, do you?"asked Wolfe mockingly. "Please enlighten me with your boundless knowledge, Reed."
A thin smile ghosted Reed's face. "You make people disappear, Mr. Wolfe. Vanish. No one who enlists you to utilize your unique skills can ever be found again. So complete is their disappearance, that its as if none of them ever existed at all."
Wolfe grinned. "Ah, you sound like an admirer."
"It takes tremendous skill and intelligence to be as good as you, no doubt." He looked intently at Wolfe. "You will tell me the location of Booker DeWitt and his precious little daughter. I know you wouldn't trust anyone else with that information." He pursed his lips.
"A magician never reveals secrets."
"You will if you want me to kill you quickly. I was going to let you live but you're making this much more difficult than I had anticipated."
The irritating grin grew wider. "No you won't. You're right about me storing the information in the only completely trustworthy place I know of. If you want to blow my brains out...,"he laughed again. "Feel free to pick 'em. Might have trouble getting what you want out of them, being in pieces and all that."
"All men break."
"I wouldn't hold my breath if I was you."
Reed donned a pair of his own brass knuckles, which he brandished in front of his victim's face. "You see this? Solid gold. Gold is not only very beautiful," he drove his fist into Wolfe's stomach hard enough to make him jerk in shock, "but it's so very, very durable. Don't you think?" Wolfe gritted his teeth, a small gasp of pain escaping from between them.
Grabbing his shirt and pulling his bruised and bloody face until they were barely inches apart, Reed hissed, "Tell. Me. Where. NOW."
Wolfe spat in his face. "Go to hell." Reed wiped it away and when he looked back his eyes were filled with hatred. Letting go he took a step back trying to decide how to proceed. This wasn't going at all as he planned.
"This seems like a lot of trouble to go through just to find one guy. Are you the only one looking for DeWitt? I mean you might make all those other guys he owes money to a little jealous..."
"Why should I give a damn about your curiosity?" Reed became contemplative. Then a cruel smile manifested itself.
Wolfe spoke before he had a chance to reply. "Because if you do, I promise that I will extend the same mercy to you that not too long ago extended to me." He had become deathly serious. Reed and his men laughed uproariously.
"I suppose I can say I've assumed his debts in addition to what he already owes me, so that when I find him I can convince him to come work for me to repay them. A few people in particular who have been bothering me need to go to the gates of St. Peter a little earlier than planned. After that...I'll own him body and soul. His daughter will provide a little bit of extra incentive for him to behave. That the time to collect has arrived." The criminal in him caused him to speak with a Machiavellian pride in his plan. DeWitt was one of the greatest killers of his generation, and his new life coming to an end so soon after it had begun was an exquisitely evil act that he would bring about.
He also hoped to twist the knife a little before he managed to get what he needed and ended Wolfe so that the last thing he would know was what was in store for Booker. After he finished, Wolfe was silent for a heartbeat. Then two.
When he grinned yet again its nature was far more sinister. "I'm afraid they're beyond your reach. I'll make sure of it." One second he was in the chair, the next was standing with a wickedly sharp bladed knife.
"You're dead." He said simply.
Before anyone can react he lunged forward with impossible agility to gut the man who had taken so enthusiastically to torturing him besides Reed. Spinning, he opened the throat of a pistol wielding goon coming from behind, ducking low to grab the gun from the dying man's hand as he fell. Then he shot true, killing the last two gangsters with rounds straight to the heart. He spared Reed, and as the bullet tore through his kneecap and he crashed to the floor. He kept crawling until Wolfe caught up with him, knocking him out cold with a swift kick to the head.
. . . . . .
When Reed came to, he found himself tied to the same chair where Wolfe had been. He hadn't moved the corpses of his enforcers, leaving them where they had fallen. Then he saw the man himself, observing him coldly. Reed said desperately,"I can give you money, power, anything you want!" Despite the punishment he had suffered Wolfe moved with an easy grace across the floor until he stood directly in front of his former captor.
"Anything I want? "He asked quietly.
"Anything!"
He walked around Reed, and wrapped his hands around his neck. "I think I'll just end your life instead." As he gave a hard twist, Reed spasming as his neck was broken. He lost all feeling but after a few seconds of disorientation, he realized he was still alive. His head now hung back loosely, so he couldn't see all of Wolfe when he spoke. "I didn't completely sever your spinal cord, just induced severe paralysis. You see, I know what you do as well." He pried open a crate, its contents made his face light up. "I'm afraid I lied about being merciful, regarding your fate."
His hand plunged into it and reappeared with a bottle of high proof vodka, directly from a distillery in Russia. Popping the cork, he took a swig before muttering appreciatively," That is quality."
He started pouring it over everything, filling the air with the stench of alcohol.
"I help people disappear, to start over. To get away from people like you, or that sort of thing, and get a chance to begin anew with a clean slate." He grunted as he stabbed into one of the barrels, cutting a lengthy incision, before toppling it where it flooded across the floor. Reed felt it wash over his feet in a gentle wave, drenching the bodies of the dead gangsters. "Just to be safe." He said, guessing the question Reed was trying to ask, but couldn't get his voice to work. He couldn't really feel anything.
"You on the other hand, are involved in smuggling, extortion, crooked cops and politicians, gambling, arms dealing, not to mention dozens of murders." The cold smile he had been sporting became a thin line. "Entire families slaughtered. Butchered like animals." His voice dripped with disgust.
Wolfe began to speak very rapidly," Mr. DeWitt came to my office seeking a work at my company that I run when not spiriting away hunted individuals. Though he didn't receive the position, while he was being informed of the hiring officer's decision some men of similar character to you arrived to...retrieve something of theirs that I had taken. I was in trouble for a moment, caught totally off guard, but he helped me drive them off. Which, of course, left me with a debt of my own to repay.
"So I investigated his past, and learned of his present situation. He himself filled in the blanks when I asked him about it. I could see his was trying to atone for his sins, and I saw the good in him so I decided to employ my unique services to enable him to give the life he wants to his daughter. This last nasty bit of business being finished means I don't have to worry anymore and that Booker can finally rest in peace." Wolfe smiled faintly. He put a hand into the interior of his great overcoat, a deep shade of blue. The matchbook he withdrew from within was small, but Reed didn't notice as he lit a match as he turned around to leave. "My real name isn't Wolfe of course, I just like the way it sounds." His grinned crookedly.
The man turned back, with the match held delicately between his fingers. "This should help you atone for yours.,"he said as he tossed the match behind him as he walked away. It landed on the edge of the pool of vodka and chemicals, igniting rapidly. As the flames spread and rose, he called back,"And may God have mercy on your soul." Reed spent his last moments trying to pray, but gave up and started screaming silently as the flames started to consume him.
. . . . . .
April 21st, 1912
By Eric Collins, New York Daily Herald
'Man of Fire'
The fire was fierce, and before anyone could stop it the entire building had burned to the ground. The warehouse at 42nd and Wilmington, long suspected to be where criminal kingpin Joseph Reed stored his contraband and the scene of countless violations of the law. It was ruled an accident by the authorities. Able to avoid prosecution by the District Attorney, he had been able to protect it until the late hours of last night.
The man himself has gone missing since the fire, with police suspecting that he may be dead. His disappearance on the same night leads me to believe they are probably right about that.
One man in the District Attorney's office said,"That man sold himself to the devil a long time ago. Guess it was time to collect."