Sitting on a bench lay three tools; a grubby hammer, some bloody pliers and a strange spotlessly clean scissory-wire loop contraption.  The apparent owners of these sat around a table, drinking cups of coffee and smoking cigarettes.  The smell of stale blood and smoke lingered everywhere and the marks around the feet of the chairs implied this was not a rarely used room.

In a corner there was a dentist’s chair, looking carefully at the well-worn arms tiny chunks of plastic and foam had apparently been dug out…maybe it was mice, maybe it was tightly clenched fingertips.  Nobody liked being in a dentist’s chair, especially not this one.  The only other disconcerting feature appeared to be the straps attached…this was a chair for very, very reluctant dental patients.

One of the guys, a big guy in an apron took a big swig of coffee…

When’s he coming?  And what’s he done?

Artie didn’t say.  Said this guy had been found in the depot rooting around some of the containers.

The containers had been at the new Vesuvio Import offices in Los Angeles in the secure building behind.  They were in the secure building behind because they might be needed in the less secure offices up front but without people knowing of their existence.  There were three people who knew what was contained; Artie himself, Protoman his trusted left hand and the guy who shipped them from Capone’s place in Chicago.  Joey Cheeks had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.  A bit of an opportunist, he’d taken advantage of builders going in and out to sneak in.

Nobody had been about so he wandered…and wandered.  He had found some people unpacking a container.  He hadn’t been rooting about, he would claim he hadn’t even seen what they were doing and he just wanted to go.  Who would he tell?  Who could he tell?
It hadn’t been enough.  He was beaten and thrown into the back of a truck.

Artie had been briefed, nobody was to know about the deliveries but he wanted to know everything this guy knew so the truck headed further downtown and into the back streets where nobody ventured at this time of day.

Joey was dragged downstairs, his feet banging off every step.  

Tell us now what you know.  It’s only going to get worse.

Seriously, I know nothing.  I’m really sorry!

His trousers suddenly became damp, leaving a wet trail as he was dragged across the floor.  The three guys put their coffees down and helped lift Joey onto the chair as he thrashed out.  He wasn’t the strongest but he put up a fight until the last strap was tightened; he was strapped down by the arms, legs, chest and head.  He was not moving anywhere.  One guy picked up the hammer.

Tell us what you know.  Who sent you in there?

Nobody, I swear.  It was only me!

Wallop – the hammer was smashed into Joey’s leg repeatedly.  He screamed in agony.

I swear, honestly…..it was me…only me,

His whole body was starting to go limp from the exertion and the pain.  Tears streamed from his eyes.  He knew this was probably be the end…he snivelled through snotty sniffs…

Please, I beg you…I know nothing.  Nobody sent me, I thought I’d get some piping…maybe…I thought I was ripping off a building company…I promise.

Footsteps came down the stairs and a fourth man appeared wearing a suit and tie.

Sorry I’m late gentlemen, what seems to be the issue?

The guy won’t talk doctor, we think we have everything out of him but do you fancy just making sure?

I don’t know…

The fourth man picked up the weird spotless tool on the bench and approached Joey..the snivelling bloody wreck on the chair looked pleadingly as if to say please just finish me off or let me go.  He held up the instrument…

Do you know what this is?  It’s a snare.  It’s used to remove tonsils.  I’m about to have these gentlemen hold your head down and your jaw wide open.  I’m going to reach in and remove one of your tonsils with this.  It’s going to be the most excruciating pain you will know and then I’m going to leave you for a minute…let the pain subside…then I’ll do your other one.  How does that sound?

He looked up at Joey.

Joey had passed out.

He doesn’t know anything.  Dump him in Pasadena and call me if you need anything again.  It’s funny, I’ve never yet had to use this the idea seems to be the worst thing.  Good day.

He put the snare on the bench and walked back up the stairs.