Extreme Measures Read Free Page B

hours of torture before his backup arrived. Now, he silently vowed to keep the physical punishment he had to absorb to a minimum. He would have to be easy, but not too easy; frightened, but not so much that hurting him would become sport.
    One of the goons took his camera, and another punched him viciously in the gut. He dropped to his knees, whimpering. They pulled him up by his jacket and threw him into a chair.
    Then, as he responded haltingly to their questions, Sandy North began, one by one, to take the measure of the five men who held him.
    “… Myself. J-just myself. There’s no one else. I’ve been w-working undercover, looking for weapons.…”
    The chemist
—frail, past middle age—
can be discounted
.
    “… It was just an accident. I … I stumbled on this. I swear I did. I heard two guys talking and thought I’d see if something was up. There’s rewards for this kind of thing, you know.…”
    Gambone, if in fact that’s who he is, clearly likes letting others get dirty. He can be separated from his men in any number of ways
.
    “… Look, seriously. I don’t want to get hurt for this, and I don’t want to die. I work for Tobacco and Firearms. I don’t even know anyone with DEA.…”
    Two of the three goons are young and not all that experienced. One, Mickey, actually crossed too close with his gun drawn. If the moment had been right for a move, Mickey would have been truly astounded at how quickly he and his automatic could be permanently separated
.
    “… This here video transmitter’s powerful, but not powerful enough to reach a satellite. I’ve got a receiver hidden out there. That’s where the tape is.…”
    The third goon, Donny, is the real problem. A beast. Six four or five … two-fifty … careful … moves well
.
    “… Look, I don’t care who you are or who you were dealing with. I … I just want to get out of this with my skin. There’s got to be some kind of deal we can make.…”
    It took most of half an hour, and several more almost gratuitous punches to his face and belly, but finally North got the promise of a deal in exchange for turning over the receiver and tape. He knew that the only deal he could realistically hope for was a painless death, but he had precious few cards to play, and what he needed most was to trim down the odds against him.
    “Okay … okay,” he said as Donny wound up for what would have been another backhand across his face. “I’m beat. The receiver’s in an empty oil drum. I’ll take you there.”
    Donny looked over at the natty buyer, who nodded.
    “Fuck with us and you’re dead,” Donny said, jerking North to his feet.
    “After you get the tape, bring him back here,” the buyer ordered. He backed away from the cold as Donny opened the warehouse door.
    Satisfied, North led the three bodyguards out into the raw morning.
    “This better not be shit,” Donny said as theypassed first one warehouse, then another, “ ’cause I’m getting cold and impatient.”
    They turned onto a broad, cluttered pier.
    “The receiver’s in there,” North said, pointing to an oil drum, one of fifty or so stacked lengthways in a huge pyramid. The thin wire of an antenna, barely visible, protruded from a hole drilled in the top.
    “Open it.”
    The three men moved back a step as North took a wooden mallet from between two of the drums and gingerly tapped off the cover.
    “It’s packed in an oilskin sack,” he said, reaching inside. “It’s in a—”
    “Stop right there,” Donny ordered. “Now, back away. That’s it. You really are stupid if you think I’d let you put your hand on the weapon you have in there. Mickey, get it out.”
    With the third man’s gun still leveled at him, North stepped away. Mickey pocketed his own revolver and reached into the drum. Almost instantly there was a loud metallic snap, followed by hideous screaming. Mickey reeled backward, pawing futilely at the jaws of a huge bear trap embedded to