The Last Operation (The Remnants of War Series, Book 1) (23 page)

Kate had gotten back to him with a detailed report on Deeno's life from court records. She also had filled him in on what was known about the new custodial couple: Duke and Loretta. But the courts didn't have that much information about them. His old friend, Constable Donald "Hent" Hentley did. Born and raised in Everglades City, Hent knew everything about the locals. He had a lot to say about Duke and Loretta so when Ol'Donny and the boy arrived at the worksite that morning Daniels had a good idea what the situation was.

He sat with the boy as he held the Basset puppy, the latest resident of Ol'Donny's house that now accompanied them to the barges every day. He stroked the puppy's ear as Deeno held him, then moved his hand, cupping the boy's head.

Daniels felt a raging anger coursing through his veins as he saw the blackened eye. He had to bite his lip to bring himself under control. He stroked the boy's cheek gently, he didn't ask about the eye. He knew the boy just couldn't talk about it.

Daniels pulled Ol'Donny Murtagh away from the work crew and led him behind a pile of lumber.

"Donny, I want to know what's going on."

"T'aint none of your business, Richard."

"And how you going to handle it, Donny? You gonna ambush Duke one night and gun him down? That'd be real smart, have the boy lose his best friend and let the courts throw him in an institution."

Ol'Donny shook his head and looked away. A glistening tear rolled down one leathery brown cheek, followed a wrinkled channel and dissipated in the stubbles of his chin.

"Look Donny, I know a lot more about this then you think I do and I got some ideas."

Ol'Donny and Daniels spoke for over an hour. When they were done, Ol'Donny felt that things just might be okay after all. But there was one thing that ran through his head as he looked into Daniel's eyes, and saw dark ominous shadows dancing in his pupils:

He didn't want to be in Duke's shoes tonight.

Chapter 32

That night, Duke stopped his new pickup truck in the dirt parking lot of the Gator's Brew, Bar and Grill. Four miles down a dirt road that ran ninety degrees from US #4, set right at the watery edge of the Everglades, Gator's was the kind of bar that men like Duke would frequent. Pure one hundred percent American Redneck complete with Rebel flag behind the bar just below the shotgun rack and pictures of Merle Haggard, Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson. Draft beer, lower shelf whiskey, rough wood furniture and a jukebox that only carried songs about fighting, heartbreaks, drinking and trailer parks. That was the essence of this venerable establishment.

Actually most of the patrons were a decent, hardworking lot, wrestling a living from the land and water as fishermen, shrimpers, guides and laborers. Duke was the exception. Duke was the kind of guy that gave rednecks a bad name. He ran a tab at Gator's that everyone knew would never be paid. When Duke held court at Gator's most of the patrons would leave. Big and mean, meaner still when he drank, you never knew when the big ugly bastard would decide he didn't like your face. Duke's entourage was the usual retinue of losers and rejects who found moments of glory under the umbrella of the town's vicious bully. That was the sort of friends Duke attracted.

Tonight Duke felt pretty good. He had some money from Ol'Donny Murtagh and gotten to show the kid what was what, all in all, a good day for Duke. Hell he might even give Jake the bartender a few bucks toward his bill.

* * *

If an observer could see in the blackness of the Everglades that night, he would have seen a man with oversized goggles paddling a canoe as Richard Daniels pulled silently with swift powerful strokes. The night vision goggles made his head look like a Praying Mantis as he paddled for over an hour through the blackness of the channels and bogs on the edge of the dirt road that ran from US #4.

As he approached the glow of light from the bar at the edge of the water, he removed the night vision goggles and pulled the canoe into a thicket of sawgrass and ferns. He climbed the embankment until he reached the edge of the pool of light from the bar's window and laid, stomach down in the grass. Waiting.

* * *

Goddamn, life is good tonight, thought Duke as he stepped outside. He was on his fifth beer and had won his third game of eight ball in a row. Moving away from the bar Duke stepped between a pickup truck and a Chevy with three different color fenders and started pissing into the darkness.

He didn't hear the man—night shadows have no sound. Duke turned his head and saw the stranger watching him, standing relaxed and casual between the two vehicles, blocking his way.

"Goddamn boy, where the hell you come from? Didn't hear you or nothing."

The man didn't move, didn't reply. Duke frowned. The stranger was dressed in black, blending in the shadows, Duke was sure he hadn't been inside the bar.

"You one'a them queers who likes to watch a man piss? You'd best be gone by the time I get done, faggot," said Duke as he zipped up.

When he turned, the man was still there, blocking his way.

Duke walked slowly toward the stranger, reaching in his back pocket for the homemade truncheon. The club was an eight-inch piece of automobile heater hose filled with lead pellets. Hard and flexible, it could inflict serious damage, mostly without leaving marks. Duke had been thinking about using it on the back of the kid's legs. Some pimp in Jacksonville had told him that trick, put the fear of God in the little retard.

"Maybe you one of them Noo Yawk faggots like to get beat up. Well you done come to the right place, boy."

He swung the truncheon in a vicious overhand blow toward the man's temple. Daniels' movement seemed an impossible blur as he sidestepped against the Chevy and simultaneously caught Duke's arm in a wristlock.

The truncheon flew out of Duke's hand as waves of excruciating pain shot up his arm, veritable lightning bolts in his nervous system. Duke's body was bent forward, the legs bowed so he was almost on his knees. He was paralyzed with pain as Daniels transferred the wristlock to his left hand, holding Duke effortlessly with one hand. The slightest twitch of his fingers on the wrist brought gasps of agony from the big man.

"Ow ow, oh shit, man, let me go, just let me go and we'll forget about this."

"Sorry Duke, this is way, way past forgetting."

The first real twinge of fear flashed through Duke's mind as he realized the stranger knew his name. He glanced over at the bar but no one could see anything outside. He saw the patrons through the windows, moving about, shooting pool and drinking in the haze of cigarette smoke. They were all busy. It would be a while before Duke was missed.

Duke reached upward with his left hand, trying to prop up his right arm and relieve the pressure. Daniels caught Duke's wrist with his other hand, just holding it gently at the forearm. The Jiu-jitsu lock on the left wrist was all that was needed to control the big man.

"Look, I don't know what you want, but just let me go and we can work it out. Ow, Goddamn it, shit, let me go."

"Eventually Duke, eventually, but right now I am mightily troubled," Daniels said, his voice came low and casual, like two acquaintances discussing the weather or the price of gasoline.

Duke tried to pull his aching wrist away in a sudden move. He went to his knees as thousands of shards of pain, like fiery glass, traveled down his right arm from the wrist. He moaned, his face pale in the dim light of the bar's windows, his upper lip twitching and gleaming with sweat.

"Best thing for you Duke is to be still as you can. Broken wrists are very painful. Now let me tell you why I am troubled, why I needed to speak with you tonight. There is a little boy in your care. I know the boy is handicapped but I don't believe he is causing you any problems."

As he spoke Daniels' hand traveled up Duke's left forearm until it enclosed Duke's fingers.

"What is very troubling is that the boy has marks on him. Two ugly marks, like someone has been beating him. Would you know anything about that Duke? He is, after all, in your care."

"No, don't know nothing about it, kid probably fell or something. Ow, shit, let me go."

"Yeah, kid probably fell. Kids will do that sometimes."

Daniel's fingers found the little finger of Duke's left hand. His fingers intertwined with the little finger and suddenly clamped down in a violent pulling-twisting motion. Duke's little finger broke with a dry snapping noise.

The pain was incredible, overwhelming. Duke shrieked, a high-pitched wail like a small animal dying in the night. The noise rose and washed over the darkness. Inside the bar no one heard. Johnny Cash on the jukebox belted out a song about a boy named Sue and the blood, the mud and the beer, drowning out Duke's screams.

Duke fell to his knees retching, the pain so intense it nauseated him, turning his stomach, as both his arms were held up by Daniels like a priest helping a supplicant invoke the heavens. The wristlock on the right hand, the broken finger on his left. Daniels' finger left Duke's pinky and traveled to the next finger, gently encircling it.

Duke retched and gasped, saliva drooled out of the corners of his mouth.

"No, no, please... No more..."

"Well, we have a problem Duke. You see, there are two marks on the boy. Two very ugly marks."

Daniels broke the other finger.

Duke shrieked even higher, the agonized wail ending as he passed out.

Duke came to when Daniels dragged him to a deep puddle in back of the Chevy and put his face in the cool muddy water. He helped Duke get to his knees, holding him gently by the back of his neck and shoulder. There was no fight left in the big man, he was docile as a whipped cat.

"Now Duke, I didn't really want to do that. This is not my idea of a party, but you didn't leave me any choice. The boy is your responsibility."

Daniels paused, his head cocked, he looked at Duke with a puzzled expression.

"How many bones in the human body, Duke?"

Duke looked at Daniels through a red haze of pain. At the moment he would have given up a fortune just to be away from this terrible, implacable stranger.

"I... I don't know, please... no more."

"I'm not sure myself," said Daniels. "But there's lots of them, some of them big. The thing you want to remember Duke, the bigger the bone that breaks, the more intense the pain. Those were just two little finger bones, simple fractures, barely broke the skin. That's important for you to remember."

Daniels raised Duke's head by his hair and leaned forward so their eyes were just inches apart.

"I'm telling you this Duke because I see that boy every day. I'm going to check him carefully each morning. For every mark on the boy, I will break two of your bones. But it won't be as easy as tonight. It'll be big bones, the kind of break that tears through the skin and muscles and leaves permanent damage. Personally I don't think you'll take more than two or three fractures before you wind up in a fifty-dollar pine box in the ground. So if I were you Duke, I'd be very careful around the boy. Be careful he doesn't have another fall, make sure he doesn't get any more marks."

Duke leaned forward and vomited in agonizing retches. Daniels waited until he was finished then held him up again.

"Relax Duke, we're almost done, just a couple more things to talk about."

He turned Duke's head toward the expanse of the Everglades, the tree lines just slightly darker then the star-studded sky blending on the distant black horizon.

"Can you appreciate how truly large this swamp is Duke? You know that most of it is still uncharted and when they do chart it, it shifts again. Plenty of men went in and never came out. Never found."

Duke looked out into the night where Daniels guided his head. His mind overwhelmed with pain and fear, his strangled moans and agony filled the night.

"If something happens to that boy Duke, you and I will take a trip into the back country—the part of the Everglades where only the birds and snakes go. Only one of us will come out. Now I'm not a gambling man Duke, but I would most certainly make books that the one coming out will not be you. What do you think?"

Duke didn't answer. He understood very well but didn't have the capacity for speech at the moment.