Devon’s eyes are streaming. Choking sounds are coming out of his mouth along with other unintelligible noises.
She gives him a moment, then asks. “Are you ready to tell me?”
“You’re a fuckin’ crazy bitch,” he spits out, along with a mouthful of frothy saliva. “Fuck that hurts. My chest…”
“Yeah, yeah. I know all about that. So, are you ready to speak to me?”
It would appear that he’s not. So it’s the rag once again, and another few applications of water.
The feeling of drowning is making him struggle against his constraints. Even if his movements are involuntary, the body’s impulse is to get away. Swift takes a moment to check his bindings.
“We don’t want him to break anything,” she tells Salem conversationally.
This time, when she removes the cloth, Devon takes longer to recover. When he does, it’s with a look of absolute horror on his face. When he can breathe, he howls, “It hurts. It hurts!”
“You’ve probably got damage to your lungs. You’ll get more if you don’t speak to me. I need names.”
She indicates to Salem again, but Devon screams, “No! I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything.”
“Well, I lost that bet.” Bolt sighs beside me, taking a small tablet out of his cut. “I had him lasting for another round.”
Swift overhears, turns around and winks. “You should know better than to bet against me.”
Devon’s so terrified that the drowning might start again, that this time his struggles are to get all the names out. By now, I reckon he’d sell his first-born child in order to get free. Name after name comes out of his mouth, as well as words that allow us to piece together a story.
Devon’s got a porn addiction of his own, the more deviant the better. Once he accessed the site via a friend’s invitation and after having paid an extortionate fee, he began to wonder how he could get some of that money. He’d managed to track down one of the key players and offered to make videos for them. They’d had no need to take on an extra contributor, wanting to keep their operation tight and secure, but like all greedy men, they were interested. If he could bring something new to the party, then he might have an in, and a part of the proceeds.
I feel ill as he told us about coming across a young Hispanic girl who’d made it over the border and was now begging on the streets for money. I almost vomited when he described what had happened to her, while noting Swift calmly indicated Bolt was to write down the new leads, including the model who’d agreed to let his inner devil out to play and abuse her.
Names, deeds, and more names. The only ones he couldn’t give were those of the victims. Some dead, some left mentally and physically damaged and released back onto the streets again. Devon being safe in the knowledge that while they were in the US illegally, they wouldn’t cause a fuss.
He disgusts me. I want to see him dead.
“Can’t we kill him, Swift?” Kink calls out, starting a rumbling of agreement.
Bolt stands, bows his head, then looks up and addresses us all. “There’s nothing that would give me more pleasure than to dispatch this piece of shit to meet Satan. But if we did that, what would happen? Sure, we’ve got names, but the feds need him alive to testify against them. If we want to break up this porn ring, get all the players taken off the streets, then Devon needs to stay breathing.”
“How do you know Devon will talk once we’ve let him go? He could refuse to co-operate with the feds.” It’s the VP who poses the reasonable question.
“I’ve taped every word he’s said,” Bolt states. “That recording will be in the hands of the feds, suitably edited to take out the screaming. And, of course, we’re giving Devon to them without a mark on him, so they know the recording wasn’t made under duress.”
Clever.
“How will you get him to the feds without exposing us?” Prez asks.
Swift’s taken out her phone and is looking at it. “Devil’s man, Sean Cooper has touched down in San Diego. He should be here in half an hour.” She looks at the man at her feet. “Get him up now. Be careful, he’ll probably puke.”
I know she knows as much as she does because it happened to her. How anyone could put themselves through that is beyond me. I wonder just how much about her training she knew in advance.
While Brakes and Dusty come forward with knives to cut Devon’s bonds, Salem holds out his hand to Swift. When she takes it, he pulls her forward and gives her a back slap. Without hesitation, she returns it with one of her own.
“Fuckin’ good work, Brother.” Salem accompanies his words with a wink.
Swift laughs and gives a genuine smile, and I see what attracted Road to her. “Yeah, the Utah brothers don’t know what to call me either. Sister doesn’t work.”
A chuckle from Salem, followed by, “Fuckin’ immense respect. I didn’t believe you could get him to spill all that without leaving a mark.”
“Oh, there’ll be a mark left,” she contradicts. “In here.” She taps her head. “Thinking you’re dying, not being able to stop it, and then that happening again, fucks with you in here.”
“But not with you,” I observe.
Swift sets her eyes on me and shrugs. “I’m made of stronger stuff. And, in my case, I could cheat. I knew I wasn’t going to die. It’s just at the time, it wasn’t easy to remember it.”
As she’d had him tied up over his clothes, though the ropes must have bitten in, there’s probably limited bruising under the pants and jacket he is wearing. Also, apart from some dampness around the collar, and a urine stain by his zipper, his clothes are barely wet. As a torture technique, it’s impressive.
Freed, Devon rolls onto his knees, then vomits on the
