What a Good Lad #3
“How was your visit to your uncle in Estepona, Spain?”
Seamus stiffened and began looking for help or an avenue to escape.
“There is no place for you to go, Seamus. Well…” Jessie turned the spotlight, illuminating an open pine coffin. She waited until Seamus registered what waited for him and turned the light back onto him. “You see, if I don’t get what I need from you, then I have no need to keep you alive.”
“F—fine! Just kill me then!” Seamus blurted out.
Jessie remained quiet and turned the light in the direction opposite of the coffin, illuminating a table adorned with various surgical instruments, saws, vise grips, and propane mini-torches.
She turned the light back onto Seamus, illuminating his now-greenish skin tone.
“Didn’t I mention that I will fill that coffin piece by piece?
” Jessie waited for a response, but Seamus’s mouth could only open and close, wordlessly.
Jessie, once again, turned the light toward the table.
Making sure the light was illuminating only her hands, she slowly and deliberately put on a pair of black surgical gloves.
She held up a scalpel, letting the light reflect off the mirror-like finish.
“Do you know what an orchiectomy is?”
It took a moment, but finally Seamus stuttered out a ‘no’.
“Well! The luck o' the Irish finally ran out, didn't it? You get to learn something new today!” Jessie smiled like she had all the time in the world. “It’s a surgical procedure to remove one or both testicles. I figure we should skip the foreplay with fingers and just dive into the good stuff. Sound good to you?”
“N—no!” Seamus shouted.
“Fine,” she sighed. “You squeezed Allanah’s breast and hurt her. That was mean. Cruel, frankly. Legally speaking, that’s called sexual assault.”
Jessie tilted her head and stared at him for a moment.
“Let’s not waste time with the abdominal incision and head straight to one of your balls! I guess it is your lucky day after all, you get to choose! Lefty or righty first, Seamus?”
“NO! Please… I can’t talk! You know they will kill me!”
“Seamus… either way you will most likely die. At least with me you have a chance to live… although the last time I did an orchiectomy, the poor guy bled to death. My propane torch wouldn’t stay lit to cauterize where his balls once were.
It was, how you say? Oh yeah… my bad.” Jessie picked up the propane torch and purposely failed at lighting it.
“Shit. Yeah, my bad again. Forgot to get a refill. Oh well, let’s skip the scalpel…
if you are going to bleed out anyway… now where are those bolt cutters?
There they are! Hope you aren’t fond of lefty…
” Jessie rushed over with the bolt cutters in her hands and had Seamus’s zipper coming undone, and she was tugging his pants down as he bucked and tried to get away.
“NO! Stop!” Seamus yelled.
Jessie let go of his pants and stared down at him and let out a sad sigh. “Fine, we’ll save lefty and righty until later. Finger foreplay it is then!” Jessie managed to slip his finger into the bolt cutters and clamped the blade down so every wiggle or jerk was excruciating.
Jessie ignored Seamus’s screams to stop. “I think this is gonna hurt worse than that bullet.” With dreadful slowness, she began squeezing the bolt cutters’ handles together. As blood began welling up from Seamus’s finger, his screams intensified.
“I’LL TALK! PLEASE! I’LL TALK!” he screamed.
Jessie continued to ignore Seamus and began humming a nursery rhyme as she slowed, but didn’t stop. Millimeter by millimeter, the handles crept closer together, cutting into Seamus’s finger.
Seamus screamed as the horror of losing his finger filled his mind. “PLEASE! STOP!”
Jessie sighed into his ear. “Dammit, Seamus. Here I thought you wanted to save your balls until last. Come on, let’s keep going.
Be a good lad, as they say.” Jessie could feel the cutter’s blade starting at the bone of his little finger as Seamus bucked in his chair, screaming every expletive he could manage.
“ABYAD MOHAMAD!” Seamus finally screamed.
Jessie backed the pressure off the cutter slightly and smiled sweetly into Seamus’s sweating face. “Now that’s a good lad. I’m listening…”
Before Jessie could utter another word, nearly everything Seamus knew about his uncle’s Iranian visitor began spilling out of his mouth. Jessie removed the bolt cutters and let the young man spill his guts through his tears of fear. Seamus was out of breath when he finally came to a panting halt.
“What a good lad,” Jessie purred into Seamus's ear. “Now think very carefully. Did the name Amir Iravani ever come up?” Seamus slowly nodded. “Tell me more.”
“Abyad traded a shit ton of Afghani heroin for guns and information on whoever those people are. I—I heard Yemen… I think.”
“Don’t think. Or we can use some more foreplay to jog your memory…”
“Y—Yemen, I’m sure. F—for years my uncle sold guns and ammunition to the Houthi rebellion thing there…”
“Now think very, very carefully. Where in Yemen? Sanaa, the capital city?”