Hunt the Wolf by Don Mann & Ralph Pezzullo

Author:Don Mann & Ralph Pezzullo [Mann, Don & Pezzullo, Ralph]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780316209595
Publisher: Mulholland Books
Published: 2012-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

And whosoever shed man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed.

—Il Duce, The Boondock Saints

Crocker wanted to get away from the farm before the French authorities arrived. But there were things he had to take care of first.

Continue the search for intel, and question the four female captives.

He and Akil had literally given two of them—the ballsy one from Romania who said her name was Dorina, and a rail-thin brunette who hailed from a small town in the Ukraine—the shirts off their backs. The sweaty, soiled, bloodstained polos hung over the girls’ skeletal torsos to the tops of their thighs. The other two sat in the corner, wrapped in a dirty blanket, their eyes staring blankly at the cracked linoleum floor. One hailed from Georgia. The fourth, who had a mole above the corner of her mouth, couldn’t remember her name.

They’d been beautiful once. Young and happy, with boyfriends, friends, and dreams. Now they were a mess. Drugged, raped, and god knew what else.

As much as Crocker’s heart went out to them, there was little he could do besides tell them their ordeal was over.

The only one who seemed to understand was Dorina, who gulped water from a Styrofoam cup. Anger and terror churned in her gray-blue eyes. Her bottom lip was swollen, the size and color of a plum.

“You really killed them?” she asked bluntly.

“Yes.”

“Dead? You’re sure of that?”

“Yes.”

“All of them?”

“Five or six,” he answered. “We captured another. He’s taped to the front seat of the car.”

“Shoot him in the face. First in the mouth; then wait a few minutes and shoot him between the eyes.”

She translated for the girl from Ukraine, who listened, nodded, then started to sob.

Dorina said, “She wants to see their bodies. To spit on them herself.”

“Tell her they’ve been burned to a crisp. There’s nothing to see.”

The Ukrainian girl grabbed Crocker’s hand like a child. “Thank you. Thank you,” she repeated in broken English. “Thank you so much from my heart.”

“You’re welcome.”

She clung to him trembling, and wouldn’t let go. “You American? You take us to America now?” she pleaded through her tears.

Crocker tried to remain reasonable and calm. “The French authorities will arrive soon and take care of all of you. They’ll send you back to your families. Don’t be afraid.”

“French?” she asked. “Why not Americans?”

“Because we’re in France,” Crocker answered.

“But I trust the Americans more.”

“The French will take care of you. I’ll make sure of that.”

As they spoke, Dorina crossed to the desk and started tearing through the drawers.

“What are you looking for?” Akil asked as he kept watch at the door.

“They took everything, those bastards. Our papers, clothing, jewelry, money!”

Dorina removed several DVDs from the top drawer. The rest were empty, except for a wooden ruler and a pair of pliers. She heaved the pliers against the wall and screamed. “Go to hell! Go to hell!”

“We’ve already been to hell,” the girl from the Ukraine remarked. “What could be worse?”

Dorina: “She’s right.”

Crocker wrapped his arms around the tall Romanian girl and sat her on the edge of the desk.

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