“It ain’t up to us, boss,” Monty replied, the first to chicken out.
Anderton threw his arms up in the air and slapped them against his thighs. “Fucking hopeless. Maybe I should get shot of the lot of you. I need men I can trust around me. It’s clear none of you fit the fucking bill any more. Why is that? The money not good enough for you? I pay the going rate for knuckleheads with brains the size of petit pois.” He laughed. “You don’t even fucking know what I’m on about, do you, Caves?”
The man scratched the side of his face and ran the hand up past his caved-in temple, the feature which was attributed to his nickname, and through his short, cropped hair. “Never heard of it, boss.”
“And there we have it. Okay, based on that answer alone, you’re the one. Get him prepared,” he demanded.
The other three men hesitated but only for an instant. Caves tried to make a run for it but the other three heavies pounced and tackled him to the floor. A fight ensued, three men the size of champion heavyweight boxers against one of similar stature, fighting for his life.
Eventually, the three men managed to pin Caves to the floor. Stitch sat across his legs and the other two guys pinned each of his arms under their knees.
“Get the fuck off me. I ain’t done nothing. Boss, I’m sorry, if you think I screwed up. Let me make it up to you.”
“I don’t think you’ve screwed up, mate, I know it. Now, name your instrument of torture.” Anderton crossed to the other side of the room and wheeled a stainless-steel trolley, laden with hand saws, pliers and knives, and parked it close to where the men were.
“I don’t want to die. I’ve just got engaged to the missus.”
“Shut your fucking mouth. Every time you speak, you piss me off more. I think we’ll go with the saws this time.”
Caves screamed and wriggled, trying his best to shake off the men suffocating his movements.
Anderton picked up his implement of choice and leaned over Caves. “This is going to be a slow job, I ain’t that handy with DIY tools. Just warning you so you know what to expect.” He let out a wild laugh.
Caves shouted, calling his boss all the names he could think of as he made the first cut to the top of his right arm. It took nearly a minute for Anderton to chomp through the man’s flesh, muscle and tendons. Sweat broke out on Caves’ forehead and ran into his hair at the sides. He screamed. “Shit, don’t do this. You’re killing me.”
“That’s the idea, you motherfuckin’ useless shit.”
“Boss, that’ll do, surely. Let him live, he’s a good guy really,” Stitch finally found his voice to speak out for the man who had been his constant companion on numerous jobs for the last five years.
“Honour amongst evil bastards, who’d have thunk it? You’re telling me you want to swap places with him now?”
Stitch shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”
“Then keep your frigging mouth shut.”
He bowed his head in shame. Caves looked at him, a look that told him he was grateful for attempting to intervene.
Anderton completed his task and held the man’s arm up in the air. “One down, one to go. Hang tight, moron.”
“Don’t do it!” Caves screeched.
The other three men all took it in turns to stare at each other, as if questioning their boss’ motives, but none of them dared to voice their opinions.
Anderton changed his choice of implement to a long-bladed kitchen knife and returned to lean over Caves to remove his second arm. This time Caves hollered and passed out.
“Damn, he’s gone and spoilt all my fun now. Never mind, on with the show, we have work to do this afternoon.”
He then struggled to get through the muscle and tendons in the man’s legs but eventually managed it. At the end of his strenuous ordeal, he felt the man’s neck, looking for a pulse. There wasn’t one; hardly surprising, considering the amount of blood that had squirted and drained from Caves’ body in the last thirty minutes.
Anderton stood and glanced down at his bloodstained light-blue suit. “Well, this fucking whistle and flute won’t see the light of day again…neither will he.” He laughed.
The three men rose to their feet and stared down at what was left of their colleague.
“Right, let this be a lesson to you going forward, men. Either you carry out my instructions to the letter or suffer the consequences. None of you are indispensable, you got that?”
The men nodded their agreement.
“Get out of my sight and return here in an hour, no later. I need to go home and get changed. We reconvene here at three on the dot. A second later, and you’ll get the same punishment. I have deadlines to keep, and any fucker who slips up will end up going through the same treatment, you hear me?”
“Yes, boss,” Stitch replied.
“Don’t be sad, Stitch. You’ll have a new recruit soon enough. I’ve got another bloke joining us this afternoon. Now get out of my sight.”
He marched out of the warehouse and into his waiting car. The driver scrambled out of his seat and opened the back door for him, his mouth gaping open at the state of his clothes.
“I had a bit of an accident.”
“Oh my, do we need to get you to a hospital, sir?”
Anderton chuckled. “Nope, just take me home to get changed.”
“Yes, sir. Right away.” The driver closed the door and stared at the warehouse entrance until Anderton tapped on the window to get his attention.
“Now, as in, I’m in a bloody hurry.”
“Yes, sir.” The driver ran around the front of the car and dived behind the steering wheel.
Anderton leaned back against the headrest and breathed out a sigh, jubilation his prime emotion,
