All Necessary Force

Jennifer asked a cab driver for directions and we headed out. Four blocks later, we had left the industrial area and entered a congested shopping district. We stopped at a roadside stand and ordered some local food.

Sitting down at a coffee table, Jennifer said, “Pike, I think someone’s following us.”

I didn’t alter my demeanor. Just asked, “Who and where.”

“There’s an Asian guy at your nine o’clock. He was outside the hospital when we left, and now he’s across the street at the other cafe. I only noticed him because he was Asian. He stuck out.”

“Can you see him by looking at me?”

“Yeah.”

I didn’t bother to try and ID him. “Let me know if he leaves.”

If Jennifer had called it, he was probably surveillance. She had an uncanny eye for this type of thing, and I had never seen her call a ghost. We ate our lunch at an unhurried pace, staying longer than any ordinary patron would. When the man didn’t leave, the chances of a mistake became smaller and smaller. We finished up and began walking away from the hospital. The man followed. We entered a pharmacy and bought some aspirin, just as an excuse, then began walking back in the direction of the hospital. The man reappeared on our tail. The glimpse of him brought irrational anger.

Dumb motherfucker’s going to follow me when he sticks out like a whore in church?

“Jennifer, I’m going to find out what this guy’s doing.”

She looked at me sharply. “How?”

“There was an empty warehouse in the industrial section. When we turn the corner to it, I’m going to stop and jerk his ass inside.”

She became alarmed, seeing where I was going. “Then what?”

I stopped and locked eyes with her. “Then he tells us what the fuck he’s doing. Don’t you think it’s strange that we’re following a guy from Indonesia who gets killed in a terrorist attack, and now we’re being followed by an Asian guy? He’s probably fucking Indonesian.”

“Pike, let’s call the police. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

We turned the corner and I stopped. “Tough shit. We’re here. Go inside and see what’s there.”

“Pike—”

“Get inside. Now.”

She opened the door and disappeared. I squeezed inside the door frame and waited on our tail, my fists clenching and unclenching spasmodically, the blackness spreading.

He came around the corner and reacted instantly, throwing his hands up and stumbling backward. I batted them away and grabbed him by his throat, slamming him against the brick wall. Then I threw his ass through the doorway. All one hundred and thirty pounds of him.

I stepped into the gloom of the warehouse and smacked him in the head, stunning him again. I ripped off a satchel he was wearing and opened it, finding a beat-up Chinese Type 67 semiautomatic pistol. The barrel had a built-in suppressor, and the caliber was unique to the weapon. It wasn’t something you could buy on eBay.

Well, well. Not a coincidence he’s behind us.

I checked the chamber, saw it was loaded, and pointed it at his head. “Empty your pockets.”

He sat up and did nothing, just stared blankly at me. He looked familiar, and it clicked. One of the tourists from the catacombs. I cracked him in the head with the barrel, splitting open his scalp and knocking him to the ground again. I heard Jennifer say my name, but ignored her.

“I said empty your fucking pockets.”

He still did nothing. I raised the pistol again and Jennifer moved to him, pulling on his pockets.

“Get the fuck away from him!”

She did, but said, “I don’t think he speaks English. Pike, don’t hurt him.”

The man was now emptying his pockets onto the ground.

“Bullshit. That’s the first line of defense. Play like you can’t understand. He was at the catacombs when the strike happened. He knows something, and he speaks fine. I promise.”

I looked around the warehouse, seeing a table and chair. I pointed the pistol at him and said, “Take off your clothes.”

“Pike,” Jennifer said, “what are you—”

“Quit questioning me in front of the detainee.” I wanted to get the man feeling as vulnerable as possible, and being completely naked was a quick way to get there, but I couldn’t tell Jennifer that in front of him.

I repeated, “Take off your clothes.”

He didn’t move until Jennifer mimicked unbuttoning her shirt, then he began to undress.

“Jennifer, quit playing into his hands. Let me deal with this. Go find something to tie him up with.”

She paused for a second, then began exploring the warehouse.

I picked up his belongings and found a passport. To my surprise, he wasn’t Indonesian but Chinese. And he had an exit stamp from Indonesia the day after I had left. I flipped a page and saw that he’d entered Indonesia a day after me as well. I motioned him over to the chair, making him sit down. His face was completely blank, without a trace of emotion. The fact that he was completely naked didn’t seem to faze him. Jennifer returned with an old lamp that had about a four-foot electrical cord. I ripped it out.

“Tie his hands behind his back and behind the chair. Make sure it’s good.”

When she was done, I moved the table until it was about five feet away and put the pistol on it. Then I picked up a length of hose lying on the ground. It was heavy rubber, and would hurt a great deal.

I rubbed his chest with it. “You’re lucky in one respect. I’m not going to beat the shit out of your face. I don’t want to give you the excuse that you can’t talk. And I know you can speak English, so save yourself the pain. I’m going to find out what you know about the death of my friend. That’s just a fact.”

He looked at me with that blank stare, making my rage grow. I slammed the hose against his stomach, causing him to scream. I picked up a rag and shoved it in his mouth, then swung three more times. His eyes squeezed shut and he screamed again, but only a muffled sound came out.

Jennifer shouted, “Pike! Please stop. Please.”

She looked sick to her stomach. I said, “Go to the door and watch for someone coming.”

“Pike…”

“Go.”

She left and I returned to the man. He was sweating profusely and breathing hard.

“I’m not going away. You nod your head and I’ll remove the rag. We’ll start with an easy one. What’s your name?”

I waited for him to nod. When he didn’t, I striped his thighs, feeling the rage build. Blaming him for making me give him pain. Taking out my grief over a dead friend. Taking out my rage over another friend who would probably die today. My vision blurred and I hit him again and again, almost missing him nodding. I removed the rag.

His head sagged for a second, then he whispered, “Camera.”

What the fuck? Speaking gibberish to get me to stop? His pathetic attempt to act like he didn’t understand broke through the small bit of sanity holding back my blackness. The beast came out, looking for pain.

Jennifer kept her eyes glued to the street through a crack in the door, not wanting to witness what Pike was doing. Not wanting to be a part of it in any way. She flinched every time she heard the hose strike flesh, her conscience screaming at her to stop it, but a fear of what Pike might do overweighing her impulse.

She had never seen him like this. She’d watched him sit in Knuckles’ room, morose and brooding, and somewhere during the wait, he’d crossed a threshold. For the first time, she feared him. Feared what he was capable of.

She heard Pike ask the man his name, then heard the hose whipping into his flesh, her eyes involuntarily squeezing each time. Then the sound stopped. When it resumed, it was no longer the crack of the hose, but a dull, meaty drumbeat. She turned from the door and saw Pike straddling the chair, his fists a blur as he pummeled the man’s face.

Without conscious thought, she ran to him, grabbing his arms and pushing him away.