Two men sat in the dark SUV until just before the sun crept upon the neighborhood. They'd been watching the house from a discreet distance since the previous day. A light came on upstairs, and this was their signal to leave their post. No doubt it was time for the Seal's morning swim.
They'd been prepared to defend their position, but no one seemed to notice them parked at the nearby vacant home. Lush growth from under-tended landscaping offered ample cover. The economic downturn had certain unexpected benefits – hiding places for bad guys.
There'd been no other movement in or out of the house since the man and boy left the previous evening. After that, the lights had gone off rather quickly but the blue glow of the television could easily be seen from the street for another two hours after that. And then only darkness until now.
The two men inside the home were alone and completely oblivious. One of them was injured. The alarm had been set, but it was of no importance. The highly trained thugs could be in and out before help even thought to arrive. The Seal would be first. Then the mouthy Detective. Easy targets, if you asked either sentry.
Unfortunately, they were on strict orders to observe and report. No engagement.
This irritated one of them. He was hungry for blood. He liked his job. It fulfilled certain needs he had. Violence was his drug of choice. Better than women because it was easier to get. Combine the two though and he could be quite gifted.
But this was another matter entirely. This was work. It paid the bills. So he must obey his orders without deviation.
He knew his boss, Vitor, also had a lust for the more animal desires himself, and he would not hesitate to make an example out of any of his employees.
With precision and skill. And pain. So much pain.
Vitor provided many opportunities for his men to show their loyalty and strength. Their sheer ability to take pain. Feats of mental strength and endurance. Like who could withstand a lighter to the wrist the longest. Cigarette burns. Sparring contests. Occasionally a well placed bullet.
Never anything that would affect their job performance. If it did, they hid it well.
Death was the punishment for disloyalty and weakness. Everything else was character building.
But Vitor himself was also a dog on a leash.
They all knew it to be true no matter how tough he appeared to be. No matter how much bravado spilled over while they played cards and drank their chosen poison. Vitor followed orders. To the letter.
And he expected all of them to do so without question.
That's why none of them had even entertained a guess as to why they'd been instructed to bury the cop mere inches under the ground. The men did as they were told. No one commented on the sloppy job.
They didn't realize it was part of a game. A strange game of chance.
Because they'd left the cop his cell phone too. And there were holes for air in the end of the metal box. All these things did not add up.
Until they met the man who Vitor himself feared.