Pulling Teath

July 25, 2009

He built the case for his tools himself. Modifying the briefcase had taken months, since he had no interest in allowing the tools to make any noise or for them to add any obvious bulk to the case. The entire point was keeping them from being accidentally discovered. Which had happened once. It had been a shame to have to vanish the girl like that. He had honestly liked her. But his business required the utmost discretion. Something an amazing number of people seemed to forget. Which is what kept him showing up to these warehouses late at night.

He clicked the case open and carefully released the catches in the lining, setting it aside with the various files and worn paperback books he kept in it. The three men tied to chairs fought hard against the knots as they saw the gleaming metal instruments. He always liked to make sure they had time to imagine. The anticipation was often enough to get them talking. Though the talking was rarely enough to satisfy his clients.

He motioned the nearby men in suits. “Turn them to face one another. With enough space for me to move between them.” His voice was soft, almost melodic. He picked up a set of pliers and waited for them to be moved into position, then turned, watching the men for a moment. He picked the one putting on the bravest face to start. That would rattle the others quickly.

He cleaned his tools thoroughly before returning them to the case, but the rest of the cleanup was not his job. In the early days he had offered that service as well. Now he was quite content with what he could make just working on the men who were brought to him. It kept his sister in the best care facility in the world and gave him enough to continue his own modest existence. He clicked the lining back into place and closed the briefcase. The remaining pleading and inevitable gunfire held little interest for him. It was time for a nice drive back into the city, a cup of tea and the newest harlequin book sitting on his coffee table at home.

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