"This is not a game, Marshall." Fear begins to enter his eyes, and his voice grows shrill. "If I tell you, they'll kill my family. You have no idea..." Chase brings down the handle of his gun on Neal's right hand and breaks the bones. When Neal inhales to scream Chase grabs the pillowcase and pulls it swiftly over his head. Neal screams and tries to twist out of his grip but Chase jerks backward on the cloth and pours a glass of water slowly over Neal's mouth and nose. Neal chokes and coughs, struggling violently. Chase releases him. He pulls the case off and steps away to refill the glass. This was a technique they used on Confederate spies during the war.
"I can't," he coughs and chokes only to scream again as Chase breaks his other hand. Neal's eyes roll back in his head, and the room starts to go black. Chase waits for a few seconds and smacks his face. "Neal," he smacks his face again. "Wake up Neal! I need you to listen to me, now. You killed four young women in cold blood. They had families too. Tell me what I need to know. I have this room all night, and no one cares if you scream." Chase pulls out a large bowie knife and presses it to Neal's throat. "I know how to silence you, but I prefer not to do that, just yet." Neal is shaking with pain, and his eyes are full of terror.
"Have it your way." Chase sighs and take out a small brown leather roll and begins unrolling it on the nightstand beside Neal. "I grew up with Indians. They taught me lots of things, like how to ride a horse, tie a knot and how to fish with my bare hands. Once, I was lucky enough to witness them torturing someone who had violated one of their women. It was horrible but effective."
“You don’t scare me!” Neal struggles violently kicking, trying to free himself. Chase pulls out a small silver skewer and holds it up in front of Neal. “We shall see. They liked to use wooden picks, I prefer, metal. It is much easier to clean.” He places it under the nail of the swollen purple finger of his right hand and picks up his large bowie knife. Chase flips the knife over intending to use the heavy handle as a hammer.
"No! What kind of Marshall are you?" He cries out in a hoarse voice. Chase grins, and Neal pisses his pants.
“The kind who gets the job done. Tell me what I need to know, Neal.” He pulls back the knife and prepares to drive the metal skewer beneath the fingernail.
“I’ll talk!”
Chase sighs inwardly with relief. Neal begins to talk. He spills all the details, names dates, and facts in promise for a new identity and protection from the U.S. Marshalls.
“Congratulations, Neal. You’re now in the witness protection program.” He sticks the toothpick in his mouth and laughs at Neal’s look of outrage.
“I carry my own toothpicks with me.” His smile fades, “They have multiple uses. If you run or go back on your word to testify against those you’ve named, I will finish what I started here. You and your family will be placed in a safe house until it is time to testify.”
Neal nods eagerly. “Anything you say, Marshall." Still tied in the chair, he remembers the message. "Check my pocket. There’s a message for you.” Neal says.
Chase growls, “You’ve been stealing my messages?” He scans the message and glares at Neal.
“Not stealing, just picking them up, like you asked,” Neal stammers. “The point is The Chen are after a witness in New York. If you hurry, you can get to her before they do. It’s only a day’s ride to New York by train.”
“I’ll go first thing in the morning. Now to get you out of here to safety.” Chase quickly unties Neal and offers him some water.
“How about something stronger, Marshall. I still need to explain all of this to my wife. Jackie keeps a bottle in the nightstand.”
“Help yourself,” Chase said as he rolls up his leather pouch. Neal limps over to the end table and grabs the bottle from the drawer. Taking a deep swig of whiskey, he sighs as it burns its way down his throat and points Jackie’s pistol at Chase.
“You should think this through, Neal. I’d hate to kill you after all of this.”
Neal laughs a semi-hysterical laugh and holds the gun with his swollen hand. His right hand was still usable. “As soon as your witness goes to the train station, they will have her. You’ll be the only one dying tonight, Marshall! On your knees, now!”
Chase starts to kneel, but leaps instead, knocking the tiny derringer out of his hand and drawing his pistol at the same instant. He hesitates only long enough to see the look of understanding enter Neal’s eyes before he shoots him point blank in the forehead, killing him. “Less paperwork this way. Now to get a ticket to New York.”
Chapter 16
Every time, Aimee tries to go to the train station to buy a ticket she is scared away by the men in the depot. The Chen have a specific look that identifies them. They wear all black clothing with a long shirt, pants, shoes, and hat to the single black braid down between their shoulders. Plans had to change. The first of two telegrams were
