The Box, Jeremy Brown [big ebook reader TXT] 📗

group of people who are trying to lay low for a while. Your boss—I’m guessing you aren’t the boss—sent a bunch of you out to check all the likely spots.”

Claud held his hands out, as though presenting Bruder to the room.

“You see? You don’t need me to say anything.”

“How did you know we hit the armored car?”

“Like you said, we know everything that happens around here.”

“Bullshit. How did you know?”

Claud grinned at him.

“You think you might have a rat on the inside? I smell mouse piss in here…”

He sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose.

“Maybe some rat too.”

“No,” Bruder said. “It’s something else. The man we passed in the pickup truck.”

Claud shrugged.

Bruder said, “So that’s what happened.”

“Sure, why not.”

Bruder took a deep breath in through his nose.

Connelly picked up on the rising frustration.

He said to Claud, “So you’re from Romania?”

“That’s right.”

“You have Transylvania there. And Dracula.”

Claud’s eyebrows went up.

“Oh, you’ve heard of Vlad?”

He was mocking Connelly, trolling him, like he’d told an Italian, “You have spaghetti there.”

“Vlad is the best,” Claud said. “Very strong communication skills. Not with the English, like me, but his actions. Impaling all those people sends a strong message. You know, the first time I went around to these farms I saw this attachment, it was on the front of a tractor. It was just a big spike, and I asked the farmer, what the hell is that for? He told me it picks up bales of hay and straw. Just pokes right through them so you can carry them around. And I thought, man, I’d like to try that on somebody. Put them on the skewer—zwip!—and park the tractor on the edge of town, letting everyone know how things are around here. Just like Vlad. A tribute, you know?”

“An homage,” Connelly said.

Claud frowned. “That’s French?”

The pop quiz alarmed Connelly for a moment, then he said, “Yeah, I think so.”

“Then no, not an homage. A tribute. I think, maybe, I will try it on one of you.”

Bruder nodded.

The negotiations had officially begun.

Bruder said, “The police are working with you.”

Claud made a big show of thinking about it, stroking his chin and squinting up at the ceiling and finally nodding.

“Enough of them. The others just take their little cash and don’t interfere, which is fine.”

“Is your boss local?”

“What is local these days? We are all connected.”

“Can I meet with him face-to-face,” Bruder clarified.

“Not if you like your face the way it is.”

Claud was proud of his wit and looked around for appreciation. He got hard looks in return.

Bruder said, “Are you high enough in your organization to make a meeting happen?”

“Of course. But it won’t happen. Not for talking, anyway.”

He looked around the trailer.

“You are all dead men.”

Bruder ignored the threat and said, “What happens if we try to drive out of here?”

“You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You already know, surely. You seem like professionals. Mostly. The ski masks are a bit much though. So how did you find out about the armored car? Did one of the farmers tell you? Which one?”

Bruder said, “Why can’t we drive out of here?”

Claud sighed and sat back in his camp chair.

“There are only four roads in and out of this area. North, south, east, west. We are watching all of them right now and will keep watching them until we have you and the money.”

“There are other roads,” Bruder said.

“Ah, see? You did your research, like I thought. But really, roads?”

He tilted his head toward the two-track outside.

“Most of them are no better than this goat trail. And all of them go through property we own or manage.”

“Manage,” Connelly said. “That’s what you call it?”

“What word would you use?”

“Scam.”

Claud shrugged.

“That’s fine too. My point is, you can’t get out of here with that truck and the money. You could try to walk out, but these farmers are country people. They watch their land. They have cameras in trees to watch the deer come and go. Four assholes walking through the woods will be noticed. Then, they will call us and we will come get you.”

“What’s the cost of passage?” Bruder said.

Claud seemed shocked.

“That’s it? You’re giving up already?”

“I’m making a list of options.”

“Oh, there are no options.”

“How much will it cost?”

“All of it. It’s our money.”

Bruder shook his head.

“Not right now it isn’t.”

Claud leaned forward, ready to level with them.

“Look, my friends, there are truly no options. When you give up, we will kill you all and take our money back. It will be fast in return for your cooperation. If you fight, or make us come in here and get you, it will be slow. We might force you to kill each other or draw cards to see who gets their arm or leg cut off first. Have you done that before?”

Claud looked at Bruder and Connelly, then over at Rison, whose eyebrows were furrowed in disgust.

“I mean, from here it looks like none of you have had limbs cut off, but have you played the game with others? You have a deck of cards, and diamonds are left arm, hearts are right arm, clubs left leg, spades right leg. The higher the card, the more you cut off. Yes?”

“No,” Bruder said.

Claud went on.

“So the two of hearts, you cut off the fingers on the right hand. Ace of clubs? Oh baby, that’s the whole left leg, goodbye. And you need a good saw, because what happens if you get the four of diamonds, then the five of diamonds? Sometimes the cut is just an inch or so. You almost have to be a trained butcher to make it. But you get to draw the cards yourself, so it’s your luck that determines the results. You guys, it’s so much fun.”

Connelly said, “What happens if both hands are gone? How do they pick?”

Bruder appreciated him jumping in to keep Claud talking.

Claud tapped his nose and bent forward.

“They do like this. Peck. Peck. Peck. Sometimes they lose enough blood and pass out and die, and then the game is done.