In It For Life
9.
The sounds of the city were nothing like the ones of a forest on a godforsaken island, but Francesco could tell when there was danger afoot. Someone was clearly following him. His skin prickled with apprehension, and he moved on the other side of the street, pushing his fists deep into his pockets and tensing his entire body.
Did he look like someone worth mugging? He seriously doubted it, but crazy people were everywhere, the hour was late, and he cursed himself for choosing to walk home especially in a wet and cold weather like that.
His head had been too full of thoughts lately. Thoughts of Karl and Mouse, and their fucked up situation. At least, they kept him busy, but now, he was pissed for not paying better attention to his surroundings.
He hurried toward the faint light of a diner making the wet street shine in streaks of happy colors. If he got there, he would be safe. No one would be crazy enough to attack him in a room full of people having a late dinner, right?
His breath came in short and he began walking faster. The steps behind him picked up the pace, too. Francesco blinked hard, to chase away the tears threatening to form to the corners of his eyes. Could it be that he had gone through so much, only to become the hapless victim of some junkie? But no, he would put up a fight.
He was looking down, counting the seconds until he would reach the safe haven of the diner. A solid body stood in his way, and he stopped a moment too late.
"You're late for an important meeting, kid," a harsh voice said.
Francesco looked up and tried to take a step back, but another body stopped him. The man in front of him was a stranger, but everything about him, his stature, his cold eyes, his dark suit, told him everything he needed to know.
He shouldn't have felt fear of random muggers. These guys were pros, and they had to be part of the retinue of a certain very important person. A longing look to the diner and the yellow light of its windows, and his feet sprang into action.
It was nothing but a futile attempt, of course. He tasted the scent of leather as his mouth was covered, and he was lifted from the ground like he weighed nothing. And soon, it was dark, as a black blindfold was tied over his eyes.
***
Francesco knew better than to ask stupid questions. He tried to pick up sounds, or anything that could be of value to establish his surroundings. They were inside a car, moving, probably a van, because he was on the floor, and as he stretched his arms and legs, all tied up, too, he didn't bump into any seats.
The men who had taken him were completely silent, and you could hear a fly in that quiet. Only the sound of an engine was the audible sign that they were on the move.
A foot rested against his ribs, and Francesco stood still.
"No sudden moves, kid."
Francesco nodded, not knowing whether the other could see him. The threat was clear, no sudden moves or his lung would get perforated in a split second by his broken ribs, and he would taste blood in the back of his throat.
Whatever they had in mind for him, Francesco didn't want to compromise his chances of being able to run. For the moment, he had no choice.
"Good," the man said but didn't remove his foot, letting it move slightly to the rhythm of Francesco's now panicked breathing.
***
He waited for them to take him out of the van, and only then tried to kick fast and hard to free himself. A kick to his side made him growl in pain.
"Shut his fucking mouth," the man who seemed to be in charge ordered.
Francesco tried to bite, but that only helped his aggressor to gag him faster. Shit was real. He would probably end up in a ditch somewhere, never to be found, before the clock struck twelve at midnight.
He tried to pace his breathing. He wasn't dead yet, which meant that they had plans with him, plans that didn't involve getting rid of him at least for a few more precious minutes. He needed to think, think harder, but what could he do with all his limbs tied, his mouth gagged, and his eyes blindfolded?
There was a change in the air, and Francesco realized that they must have stepped somewhere inside. More important, it didn't seem to be some kind of warehouse, or anything like that, but...
A house. He used his nose to gauge as many details as he could. The temperature had to be regulated, which meant there had to be air-conditioning units. The interior smelled pleasant, and something of the scents he could grasp told him that they had to be in a mountain cabin or a similar type of place.
He was forced to stand on his feet, and quickly, his arms and legs were released. The gag was pulled away from his mouth, and the blindfold dropped from his eyes. Francesco blinked for a couple of moments, as he took in his surroundings. He hadn't been far off; he was inside an office, but one adorned with the head of a buck with large antlers high on the wall opposed from him.
Everything was in earthy tones, and there was even a fireplace on the wall to his left. Then, Francesco's eyes fell on the man sitting behind a large desk that shouted unearned luxury at him in all its details.
"Hello, Francesco."
"Fuck," he barely managed as he took in the man's harsh features.
On TV and in magazines, he seemed so far away, but now, he was there in flesh and blood, and his eyes were so cold that even the warm light coming from the fireplace got lost and sucked in in the sudden frigid air of the room.
Maybe all that was his imagination and nothing more. Francesco stood still and anchored his gaze to the cold stare pining him in place. Strangely enough, he felt suddenly calm. His brain gears began to turn. "Nice to meet you, sir," he found himself talking. "I was just thinking we two should talk about Karl."
The cold eyes glinted with surprise. Then, the man smiled, and his smile was just as made of ice. "You were?"
