Chapter Sixty-Two

Despite the unidentified voice catching him completely by surprise, Russell's reaction was a combination of being startled and prepared in equal measures. He did jump in place, but at the same time, in one smooth and quick movement, he dropped the handheld blowtorch that he was holding, swung his body around and reached for the surgical scalpel that he had placed in his back pocket.

The scalpel ended up at Garcia's neck and Russell ended up directly behind the chair that Garcia was in. The whole move took just a second, as if Russell had rehearsed it many times before.

His eyes quickly found the uninvited guest.

Hunter had his weapon trained on Russell, but as he finally stepped into that crazy torture chamber, his eyes caught sight of yet another person in that room besides Garcia, the perp and the old couple in the wheelchairs, who he had already spotted from the door, before entering the room.

Across from where Hunter was standing, level with the perp and Garcia, but a few feet to their left, Hunter saw another figure that, just like the almost mummified couple to his right, didn't seem human – a woman, on the floor, inside an animal cage. She was nothing but skin and bones, her feet were a bloody mess, and she wasn't moving.

Hunter's aim moved to her for a split second before he decided that she wasn't a threat.

Weapon back to the perp.

‘Easy there,' the man with the scalpel to Garcia's neck said, surprise and anger burning inside his eyes. ‘You wouldn't want me to slice your friend's neck open like a turkey on Thanksgiving, would you?'

Hunter blinked at him. Whoever he was, he looked a little alien, with a completely shaved head and no eyebrows.

This cellar,Hunter thought, is proving to be a complete freakshow.

‘Carlos,' Hunter called, his aim unflinching. ‘You good?'

Garcia seemed to finally have regained his breath. ‘I'm barbecued, that's for sure.'

‘Yeah, I can smell that.' Hunter nodded. ‘Ma'am… Sir…' he addressed the old couple on the wheelchairs to his right, though his eyes never left the man behind Garcia's chair. ‘You two OK?'

There was no vocal reply, but through the corner of his eye, Hunter saw both of them slowly nod.

He knew that it would be pointless asking the lady in the animal cage if she was OK. If she wasn't already dead, she was certainly knocking on death's door.

‘Why don't you put the scalpel down?' Hunter said, giving the shaven-headed man a firm nod.

‘That's not gonna happen,' the man said back. ‘What will happen is – you're going to put your gun down and kick it over here.'

Garcia tried to smile, but it came out a grimace. ‘Let me introduce you to my team,' he said, addressing Russell.

Hunter's eyes moved to him, with a very clear question in them. Your team?

Garcia ground his teeth in pain. ‘Robert, meet Russell… or Trevor… or Michael… just take your pick.'

‘Well, Robert,' Russell said, his chin jerking in Hunter's direction. ‘Did you hear what I just said? Put down your fucking gun and kick it over here.' He pressed the scalpel tighter against Garcia's throat.

Garcia winced and Hunter saw a drop of blood appear at the tip of the scalpel before running down his partner's neck.

‘Yeah.' Hunter's eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. ‘That's also not going to happen.'

Russell chuckled. ‘Do you honestly want to test me?' He brought his lips to about an inch from Garcia's left ear. ‘You better convince your team to drop his weapon, Detective, or the next sound you're going to hear will be you gagging on your own blood.'

‘He's not going to do that,' Garcia said back, his eyes on Hunter.

‘Really?' Russell asked, as he drew the blade a little deeper into Garcia's flesh. A mini blood waterfall began cascading down his neck. ‘Just a little bit deeper and I'll hit your jugular. When I do, it's game over. You know that, right?'

‘It's already game over,' Hunter said from across the room.

Russell's attention skipped to him.

‘You're not getting out of this, and you know it,' Hunter explained. ‘The house is probably already surrounded by LAPD officers, who will be coming down this hellhole of a cellar any minute now – and they'll come down here with itchy trigger fingers and loaded weapons. Your only chance of coming out of this cellar alive is to put down that scalpel and hand yourself in. You do that, you live. You don't…' Hunter nodded. ‘I'm pretty sure that they'll shoot you dead.'

‘Yeah, bullshit,' Russell replied. ‘There's no one else coming. You came after your friend here alone, didn't you?'

‘I did,' Hunter agreed. ‘But do you really think that once I found that secret trapdoor in your kitchen, leading down to a concealed cellar, inside a multiple-homicide suspect's house, I didn't call for backup?' A subtle shake of the head. ‘This isn't a Hollywood movie. In real life, we sense danger, we don't take chances – we call the cavalry. No one is playing games here.'

‘Even if you did,' Russell replied, ‘no one's gonna do anything. Unless you'd like your friend back with a gushing neck and lifeless.'

Hunter shrugged. ‘He's a cop… an LAPD detective. When we signed up for this job, the risks were all pretty well explained. Many of us lose our lives in the line of duty. That's just the way it is and we're all OK with it. If you wanted a bargaining chip, you should've taken a civilian.'

Garcia's facial expression told Hunter that he really hoped that Hunter was just bluffing.

‘Thanks for the tip.' Russell gave Hunter an odd smile. ‘Lucky for me that I have one of those right here.' His head jerked right to indicate Jennifer inside the animal cage.

Hunter peeked at her before his attention returned to Russell. Through the corner of his eye he could see that the couple in the wheelchairs hadn't moved a muscle yet. ‘I'd say that she's about six feet away from you,' he told Russell. ‘Quite a gap. Do you think you can get to her before my bullet gets to you?'

Hunter saw the woman inside the cage try her best to lift her head and look at him. The effort exhausted her and she allowed her head to go back to the floor.

Another smile from Russell. ‘I can… if I bring your friend with me.' He used his foot to unlock the wheels on Garcia's chair. ‘Because I know that you won't shoot, despite all that "dying in the line of duty" bullshit speech.'

As Russell pulled the wheelchair back a couple of feet so that he could angle it right, he kept the scalpel against Garcia's neck. ‘So,' he said, defiantly, as he began inching the wheelchair toward Jennifer's cage. ‘Do you trust your aim enough to take a shot in this dim light? You might hit your friend here.'

Hunter's and Russell's gazes were locked – Hunter's analytical… Russell's challenging.

‘See,' Russell said, the wheelchair getting ever closer to Jennifer's cage. ‘All bullshit… like I said. You ain't gonna take a fucking shot.'

Right then, Hunter saw Garcia smile at him.

Hunter smiled back.

‘Don't mind if I do.'

He squeezed the trigger once.