Rough Cut by Carey Jones Owen

Author:Carey Jones, Owen
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Matador
Published: 2011-12-29T04:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

The basement room smelt of years of disuse. Long ago, the stench of rotting vegetation had deserted the place leaving only a slight tell-tale impregnation in the stone walls. Now, the solid floor was covered in a fine film of dust and grime which, in the more remote parts of the room, had remained unmolested for many years so that even the centipedes, en route to more fruitful pastures, left footprints.

At one end of the room, a collection of old and broken furniture was piled high, reaching the joists of the floor above. At the other end, even the stone steps from the kitchen above looked tired, an indent in each one marking the thousands of footsteps it had withstood.

The rest of the room was bare except for a sturdy wooden high backed dining chair with arms, which looked much too solid to have been reclaimed from the pile, and which had been placed in the middle of the room under the single light bulb hanging from a hook screwed into the joist above it.

Sitting on the chair, and tied to it with thin ropes which bit into his wrists and ankles, was Antoine. He looked up pleadingly at Henri, a small but mean looking man, who was standing over him. Behind Antoine stood Albert, a large and muscular man, and to one side, in a corner of the room where he was almost invisible, stood Gilles.

Henri was not getting the information he wanted but both he and Gilles were determined to find out everything Antoine knew. Henri drew back his hand and, with all the force he could muster, struck the little man. Antoine’s head moved to the right as the blow landed and he felt a searing pain in his cheek.

“This is not a game, du Bois,” Henri said. “You will tell me what I want to know.”

Antoine was not a strong man, physically or in any other way. He had already taken all the punishment anyone could expect of him and blood was running down his face into his mouth from the cut left by Henri’s ring.

“Are you ready to talk yet?” Henri’s voice was menacing.

“OK, OK,” said Antoine, his voice shaky and faltering. “What do you want to know?”

“That’s better. Why did you make me hit you?“ Henri smiled insincerely and turned away from Antoine. “Now then, first of all, who were those people you took to see Jacques Armand?” He turned back to Antoine, his face hard again. “What do you know about them?”

Antoine shrugged. “Not much,” he said.

“Who are they?” insisted Henri as Albert struck Antoine from behind on the back of the head.

“I don’t know anything for sure,” he said. “I got the job through the agency and I was paid in cash.”

Henri prepared to hit Antoine again, pulling his arm back over his shoulder. As he saw this, Antoine hurriedly added, “But I saw a letter one of them had. I only saw part of it but at the top of the letter I think it said The New York Association… or was it Federation? Yes, it was Federation.

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