Kill Shot

Chapter 46
BRAMBLE thought the morning was going well. He could tell Hurley didn't have his heart in it. Stan hated Rapp every bit as much as he did and then some. The last round of questioning was a little more intense, but he supposed he had to put on a show for the people on the other side of the glass. That bitch Kennedy was probably henpecking him. The good news was she wasn't going to be around much longer. With Rapp's big f*ckup there was going to be some housecleaning, and Kennedy would be the first one to receive the ax.

Stansfield, that fossil, was on his way out as well and Hurley wasn't getting any younger. In another ten years Bramble would be running the show and then he could really start to line his pockets. This job was a license to steal. Bramble pushed his chair back and angled it toward the big observation window. He could feel Kennedy on the other side of the glass, the little killjoy, ragging on Stan and anyone else who didn't think her little boy wonder was the second coming.

Bramble heard the door open and without turning to look he said, "Stan, let's stop wasting each other's time. The longer we dick around in here, the harder it's going to be to catch that little prick."

"Little prick?" Rapp said.

Bramble jumped up, knocking his chair over. "What the f*ck are you doing here?" He saw the gun in Rapp's hand and said, "Put that thing down right now."

"Pick up that chair and sit down."

"F*ck you. I don't take orders from you. How did you get in here?"

"I'm not going to tell you again. Pick up the chair and sit down."

Bramble's mouth was just beginning to form his favorite word when a bullet struck him in his good knee. It must have shattered his kneecap, because his leg completely folded and he crashed to the floor. Bramble reached for his leg and started screaming.

Rapp stood over him and pointed the gun at his face. "Shut up, Victor. Everyone knows what happened last night. There were eyewitnesses who saw what you did. You're a f*cking dirt bag."

"I didn't do anything. It was you."

Rapp pointed the gun at Bramble's left foot and fired another shot. He waited a few seconds for Bramble's screaming to subside and then said, "This is how it's going to work. I'm going to keep putting bullets in you until you tell us what we already know."

"If you already know it, then why are you asking me?"

"You're not very smart, are you? We need corroboration. You've been passing along information to the wrong people. You told them about Tarek. You described my methods. You helped set me up."

"F*ck you!"

"Wrong answer." Rapp pumped a round into Victor's right foot. There was more howling and more threats and Rapp ignored them all. When Victor finally ran out of steam Rapp said, "Stansfield gave me the green light to kill you. The only way you can save your ass is to tell us who you were working with."

"I don't know what the f*ck you're talking about."

"So you want another bullet. I'm going to let you pick this time. Right hand or left hand?"

Victor covered his heart with both hands.

"You want me to kill you?" Rapp asked.

"F*ck you."

"You really need to work on some different comebacks." Rapp looked Victor over and said, "How about your elbows. That has to hurt like hell. Lots of bones and nerves. Which one . . . left or right?"

Victor squirmed on the floor, trying to push himself farther away, but the blood coming from his feet made the floor slick. "Don't shoot me again. I didn't do anything wrong."

"You've done a lot of wrong shit, Victor, and if you want to live you'd better start telling the truth. Now, who were you passing information to?"

"Stan."

Rapp shook his head. "That's pathetic, Victor. Stan knows everything. It has to be somebody else. Somebody outside the group. I need a name. Come on, let's go."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm going to count to five this time and then I shoot." Rapp started counting.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Four . . . five." Rapp chose the left elbow and squeezed.

Victor recoiled in pain and screamed for nearly half a minute. Rapp waited patiently and then asked, "Who was it, Victor? Who's your guy?"

Victor was mumbling now. Rapp thought he caught a name but he couldn't make it out. He bent down and jammed the suppressor into Victor's groin. "I didn't catch that name. You're going to have to say it a little louder."

Victor was writhing in pain. Snot was pouring out of his nose. He mumbled some more.

Rapp shoved the gun down hard. "I'm going to count to five again. Remember how that worked last time? One . . . two . . . three . . . four."

"Paul Cooke!" Victor yelled.

Rapp stood, looked at the glass, and nodded. He looked back down at Victor and said, "If it was up to me, Victor, I'd put a bullet in your head right now." Rapp turned for the door.

Victor started laughing. Slow and soft at first and then faster and loud.

Rapp stopped and turned back to face the man. "What's so funny, Victor?"

He got his laughter under control and said, "I knew you didn't have the balls for this line of work."

Rapp looked him over, considered his options, and then raised his gun. He fired two shots into Victor's groin and said, "Well, I guess that makes two of us."

Rapp knocked three times on the door and a moment later Hurley opened it. "How'd it go?"

"He fingered Cooke, so I guess we have one more rat to deal with."

"You got that right." Hurley looked beyond Rapp and saw all of the blood. "What the f*ck did you do to him?"

"I gave him a bunch of chances to tell the truth. It just took him a while to figure out it was in his best interest to stop lying to me."

"What am I going to do with him?"

Rapp shrugged his shoulders. "I promised Doc that I wouldn't kill him, so it's up to you." He walked past Hurley and down the hall to the observation room. The door opened before he got there and Dr. Lewis stepped into the hallway.

With an anxious look on his face, he asked Rapp, "How are you feeling?"

Rapp stopped, considered the question for a second, and said, "F*cking great, Doc. Never better. How about you?"