A/N: I'm back! Thanks to all for your patience and for reading and reviewing. Now, let us finally see what happens next!
The Three Minute Deal
Chapter 21
"Remember Joe," Frank's voice crackled in his ear, "go straight to the warehouse, no detours. Eric will try and get a confession out of Greg and we'll grab Greg when you get there."
"I know the plan Frank," Joe replied, his hands gripping the wheel tightly, "I was there when we came up with it."
"I'm just reminding you," Frank said stiffly.
Joe took pity on his brother, knowing how much stress he was under from the nightmares that seemed to be hell-bent on plaguing him every night. "I know you are. Thank you." Joe eyed the plane as it came to a stop on the runway, "he's here."
"Be careful," Frank urged his brother in a low voice.
"I will be," Joe responded and glanced at Eric in the rearview mirror, "are you ready?"
"Yeah," Eric gulped his face ashen from pain and nerves. Joe hoped fervently that Eric's nervousness would be misinterpreted by Greg…that he would think Eric was nervous over seeing him after so much time and not because he was double crossing him.
Joe stepped out of the limo and buttoned his suit jacket. He waited next to the car as the door of the plane opened and steps came down to rest on the tarmac. His eyes narrowed behind his dark sunglasses as Greg Atkinson appeared on the top step.
Joe immediately thought that Greg was something of a letdown. He had imagined a polished, suave man who radiated authority. The man who was currently walking down the steps did radiate authority, but he was pudgy and soft. His blonde hair was thinning badly and his hairline was receding. His short pudgy fingers were clutching a briefcase and Joe stepped forward to grab the bags from the pilot.
This was the infamous man who tortured anyone who got in his way? This was the man responsible for the rape and murder of two women and their entire families? It hardly seemed possible, until Joe got a closer look at the man's face. Joe had seen his fair share of cold blooded killers and he knew the face of one when he saw it. This man was no joke.
Greg looked at the limo driver in front of him and noticed immediately the blonde hair sticking out from under the hat. Greg hid a smile, this was almost comical.
"How was your flight, sir?" Joe asked and followed slightly behind him carrying the bags.
Greg stopped and turned to face Joe, "you don't speak to me unless I speak to you first. Understand?"
"Yes sir," Joe said through clenched teeth. The man's voice had been exactly what he had expected: cold and lifeless.
Joe set the bags down to open the door for Greg who climbed into the back of the car. Joe shut the door a little harder than he should have and picked the bags up to put in the trunk. "He's in the car," he murmured into his microphone.
"Calm down Joe," Frank advised in his ear, "I can practically hear you fuming."
"You don't speak to me unless I speak to you, understand?" Joe said mimicking Greg's words.
"Loud and clear brother," Frank let out a single chuckle, "you're going to hate it, but I'm going to remind you again to be safe."
"Yeah, yeah," Joe muttered as he approached the driver's side door, "loud and clear brother."
"Good," Frank replied and then grew silent.
Joe opened the car door and settled himself into the seat, catching the tail end of Greg's sentence, "…surprised that you had come back to us."
Joe glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Eric fidget uncomfortably, either from pain or from nervousness, Joe wasn't sure. "Living straight didn't agree with me. I like making money easily. Living straight, you have to work too hard for your money. It's overrated."
"I see," Greg murmured and reached over to the bar and poured himself a drink. "Scotch?"
"Please," Eric said and stretched out his good hand for the glass. He was proud of himself for keeping his hand steady.
It did not escape Greg's notice that Eric favored his right arm. It hadn't taken much to learn that his dear friend Eric had gotten himself shot in the melee of last night. Greg sat back and sipped his scotch, enjoying having the power, being the one in control. He knew that he had been set up and yet he was completely at ease knowing he would soon have the situation turned in his favor.
For now he would bide his time, "Eric, my brother, I thought you wanted to leave this life. I thought that the things I do utterly disgusted you."
"I can learn to live with it if it means I won't have to scramble for money anymore," Eric replied and downed the contents of his glass.
"But what I did to those women…and their families," Greg said and moved to sit next to Eric, who stiffened when Greg almost brushed against his injured arm, "what I did to you." Greg murmured and pulled Eric's shirt collar open to reveal his burned flesh.
Joe's hands gripped the wheel, waiting for Greg to give them the damning evidence they would need to put him behind bars for good.
"I can forget those things," Eric replied and tried hard not to recoil from Greg's touch.
"I raped those women Eric," his voice taking on a boasting quality. He was completely unconcerned that someone might be listening to everything he was saying, he was that confident in himself and his ability to get out of any situation. He was flying high on the adrenaline and power of knowing that he could do anything he wanted, "Their screams did nothing to stop me. Their children's cries…"
"Enough!" Eric held up a shaking hand, "I don't need details, as long as I don't have the details I can handle it."
"Oh, but I want to give you the details," Greg whispered and proceeded to describe every aspect of his killing spree. By the time he was finished Joe could barely see from the red haze that blurred his vision. It took all he had to keep the limo on the road, the grisly images Greg had painted playing like a horrible movie in his head.
Eric sat in the back seat, pale and shaking. "Can you handle it little brother?" Greg whispered staring at Eric's face intently, "that wasn't the first time I had done something like that either. I have an entire filing cabinet devoted to my journals on the subject. You should read them sometime."
"No," Eric shook his head angrily, "I won't. I don't need to."
"Oh, I think you do," Greg smiled, "I even taped a few of my more interesting escapades." Greg leaned back in his seat and sighed in contentment, "it's too bad I don't have a camcorder right now."
It took Eric a moment before the implication of Greg's words sunk in. He lifted terrified eyes up to look at Greg's cool, calculating ones and knew he was looking at his death.
Nancy sat in the back of the van with Michael and Frank, listening to Frank and Joe trade quips. She turned to Michael, "the FBI is being pretty forthcoming about lending us all of this equipment and allowing Joe and Frank to play such a vital role in all of this."
Michael carefully avoided Nancy's eyes as he adjusted some controls, checking for the fourth time that the tape was running and recording every sound inside the limo, "yeah, I might have lied a little bit."
Nancy's eyes narrowed, "lied a little bit?"
"Yeah," Michael replied still not meeting his partner's gaze, "I was put in charge of an information reconnaissance mission. I stretched that out into something a little bigger than that."
"Really?" Nancy was speechless. Her by the book partner had broken the rules…in a big way, "and you're not worried about what the FBI is going to think?"
"Of course I am," Michael snapped and then smiled, "but it feels kind of good to break the rules."
"You're such a rebel," Nancy returned his smile.
"Hardly, but it feels good just the same," Michael adjusted his earphones and listened into the conversation. Nancy turned her attention to Joe's voice as it crackled through the speakers.
"Loud and clear brother," he muttered and Nancy saw Frank smiled tightly.
"Good," he said into the mike and then grew silent. Nancy listened eagerly as Greg began to speak. Her spine stiffened as Greg taunted Eric with the details of his crimes. She shared a horrified look with Frank as the man's voice grew passionate through the re-telling.
Frank's mind went numb as he heard Greg methodically detailing the events of that horrible night. Two thoughts raced through his mind. One, that Nancy had been so close to being at the mercy of this ruthless killer and two, that his brother was now stuck with this madman.
Nancy watched Frank's jaw clench in fury and she reached over to grab his tightly closed hand in hers. He relaxed his fist and grasped her hand desperately. He could feel the tremors shiver through Nancy's body and he gripped her hand tighter in reassurance.
"He's confident," Michael murmured as his hand raced over his pad of paper taking notes, "that's concerning."
Nancy looked at her partner and frowned, "you think he knows something is up," she stated quietly.
"He's bragging," Michael murmured, "he's overly confident, he knows he's going to get out of this."
Frank's eyes grew dark, "my brother…" he began angrily but Michael cut him off.
"Can handle himself, I'm sure," Michael said quickly, "right now what we need to focus on is figuring out Greg's plan, what moves he's planning on making. If we can anticipate him, we can cut him off."
Nancy glanced at Frank quickly and tried to look reassuring, "its okay Frank, Joe is going to be fine." Even as she said the words she knew that his nightmare from last night was playing over again in his mind.
"Joe died in a warehouse," Frank murmured and closed his eyes, "he died in a warehouse and they're driving toward a whole bunch of them as we speak."
Joe remained calm even though he knew that they had been discovered. Somehow Greg had figured out that he had been set up. He glanced in the rearview mirror and hoped that Greg didn't think he was involved in any way. If he thought it was only Eric betraying him, Joe might be able to use the element of surprise to his advantage.
His gaze locked on the road ahead of him, they would be arriving at the warehouse and relative safety, in a matter of moments. He just had to think of what to do once they got there, because he was sure that Greg would not being going quietly.
The agonized scream from the back seat had Joe jerking the wheel in his hand before straightening the car and looking in the rear of the vehicle. Greg had his fingers dug into Eric's shoulder, fresh blood pouring out of his wound.
"Does it hurt brother?" Greg whispered and twisted his hand viciously. Eric screamed in pain and tried to break Greg's iron grip on his arm, but it was clear the pain was quickly sapping his energy.
Joe started to pull the car off to the side of the road, intent on putting a stop to this. After all, Greg was only one person and he was puny and chubby. Joe felt sure that he could take him.
"What are you doing?" Greg demanded from the back seat "stay on the road or I'll kill him. You don't want his blood on your hands." Greg twisted Eric's already hurt arm into an unnatural angle, blood simply seeping out of the reopened wound.
Joe could hear the true intent in the man's voice and so stayed on the road. They would be at the warehouse in a matter of moments anyway, where the FBI was waiting as backup.
"Turn left here," Greg ordered from the backseat and Joe glanced at him, "you didn't think I'd actually let you drive me all the way to the warehouse, did you?" Greg sneered, "I'm smarter than Roman, Joseph Hardy."
Joe stiffened at hearing his name and turned the car left but stayed stubbornly silent. "What's wrong young Hardy? Am I messing up all your carefully laid plans? How far away is your big brother?" Greg twisted Eric's arm again and Eric let out a painful gasp, his head hanging.
"You're way outnumbered here, Greg," Joe said conversationally, "I don't know how you think you're going to get out of this one."
"You don't know me very well, do you?" Greg laughed, "That's okay, I love being underestimated. Turn right."
Joe turned right and followed the narrow road. He glanced in his rearview mirror but saw no one, but that didn't make him nervous. He knew his brother was listening and monitoring his every move. It was only a matter of time before this all came to an end.
"My brother Roman wasn't the only one with a handy warehouse," Greg boasted, "I am very well connected."
Greg directed Joe to a rather small warehouse and instructed him to slow down before entering the parking garage, "we don't need you anymore brother." He gave one last vicious yank on Eric's bleeding arm, opened the car door and shoved him out of the moving vehicle. It was too late for Joe to try and slow down when he realized Greg's intent and so watched helplessly in his side mirror as Eric's body fell to the pavement and rolled away from the car.
"Park and get out, don't try anything," Greg demanded as Joe entered the parking garage and he did as he was told. Joe climbed out of the car and came face to face with the barrel of a gun.
"I've had a lot of those pointed at my face," Joe said evenly, "I don't think it has the desired effect you'd like it to have on me."
"Shut up," Greg replied just as evenly, "call your brother."
"Why?" Joe's eyes narrowed in suspicion, "let's you and me finish this right now, just the two of us."
"Oh, I intend just that. Call your brother," he repeated the command, the gun still pointing directly at Joe's face. "Move slowly."
Joe reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, "Frank," he said a moment later.
"Joe? What's going on? We followed you to the warehouse and found Eric," Frank's voice was thick with worry.
"Say exactly what I tell you to say, nothing more," Greg instructed and Joe nodded. "Say, 'don't even think of coming in here until I contact you again. He will shoot me if you do.' Say it." Greg instructed.
"Say, don't even think of coming in here until I contact you again. He will shoot me if you do. Say it," Joe said sarcastically and Greg howled with rage. He brought his hand and gun down savagely onto Joe's head and sent him to his knees. Joe swayed and groaned as his vision dimmed but he laughed, "I was just doing what you told me to." He responded, still holding the phone to his ear, his brother's voice coming frantically out of the earpiece.
"Enough," Greg said and took a deep breath, "tell your brother to wait for further instruction."
"Wait for further instruction," Joe said woozily, "man Frank, can't we ever get mixed up with an original criminal? They always say and do the same things." He hung up the phone and rested back on his knees. He looked up at Greg and the man's face spun dizzily in his vision, "let me guess, next you're going to beat the ever living crap out of me followed by a tortured phone call to my brother, demanding that he come in to save me." Greg lifted his gun hand and brought it smashing into Joe's cheek. Joe could feel the coppery taste of his own blood filling his mouth and he spit it out as he tried to remain upright on his knees.
Greg smiled, "not exactly. I happen to be one of the few original criminals. Believe me; I know a lot about making people suffer."
"That's what they all say," Joe said defiantly.
"Yes, but none of them are telling the truth," Greg reached into the front of the car and popped the hood. He walked to the back of the car and pulled out his suitcase. He set it on the pavement and unzipped it carefully.
Joe knew that he should try to stand up and take advantage of Greg in his vulnerable position but he couldn't bring his legs to move. The floor spun sickeningly around him. He was helpless but to watch as Greg removed something wrapped in a thick cloth from his bag.
"This," Greg whispered reverently, "is something can inflict great pain with the smallest of touches." For the first time Joe felt the fear settle itself firmly in his gut, "but it inflicts even greater pain when used with tremendous force." He set the wrapped package on the garage floor and pulled out a plastic bag filled with what looked like raffia.
"You're going to wrap raffia around me?" Joe's voice was filled with false bravado. "My fiancée uses that on gifts, it's a terrifying thing," his voice dripped with all the sarcasm his muddied brain could muster but inside he was quickly starting to panic.
Greg chuckled, "you're going to be fun to break." He pulled a pair of gloves out of his bag and put them before he pulled a few of the sturdy looking strands from the bag and gave them a testing tug. "Through my travels I have come in contact with many different torturing methods. I spent an enjoyable amount of time learning from a retired Iraqi, formerly a member of the Republican Guard. He taught me something he had picked up in Japan, a device used by the Japanese to restrain their victims."
He ran his fingers down the curious rope and smiled, "something that would not only make it impossible for their victims to escape, but would inflict pain at the same time." Greg gave the reeds another experimental yank, "I was curious how they worked and I can assure you from experience that they are even worse than you can imagine."
Joe tried feebly to get to his feet and Greg watched with a bemused expression on his face. Joe finally stood and swayed for a moment before he charged at Greg, letting out a wild yell. Greg absorbed the blow and the two rolled around on the floor of the warehouse.
For someone so soft and pudgy looking, Joe was surprised at how amazingly fast and agile Greg was. They struggled for a moment before Greg was able to slam Joe's head hard into the pavement, momentarily blinding him. Joe groaned as Greg pulled his arms behind his back and secured them tightly with the twine.
Joe screamed in agony as the rope cut into his flesh, what felt like a thousand little knives shooting fire into veins stabbed his wrists. He expected the pain to dull but it seemed only to intensify.
"It hurts, doesn't it?" Greg said breathlessly, triumphantly. He yanked the rope again and Joe screamed again, just as loudly as before.
"When I show you what I have in store for you, when you see what's under that cloth, you're going to beg for mercy and when I'm finished with you I'll move on to your brother and anyone else who stands in my way. No one stands in my way," Greg yanked again on the rope and Joe gasped in pain, the sound ending on a tortured sob.
Outside in the van Frank yanked off his headphones, sweat pouring down his forehead. The sound of Joe's tortured voice continued to echo around the inside of the van. "I have to go in there," he said frantically.
Joe screamed then and Frank moaned loudly, "he's torturing him." Frank said thinly and he shivered. It was strange, but he could almost feel the pain Joe was going through. Joe screamed again and Frank jerked in response, the sound cutting him to the very core, "he's torturing Joe."
Nancy thought desperately, 'he's torturing both of you.'