Chapter 15

Deputy Sheriff Millwater drove up to the wrought iron gate bolted into the six-foot-high block wall encircling Marco Perez’s compound. A man stood guard behind the gate. He pointed a black MP5 submachine gun at Millwater through the iron bars. A knot formed in the deputy sheriff’s stomach. Millwater let the air out slowly when the guard lowered his weapon and pressed a button to open the gate. The guard stepped aside as it swung inward.

The tightness in Millwater’s belly returned when he drove through the gates. He never knew if he would come out alive.

He shuddered when he thought back to the time Marco had made him sit in the basement. Two goons had dragged a naked man into the room by the wire twisted around his wrists. The man had betrayed Marco. His bloodied body was already beaten and cut. A crushed nose caused him to wheeze through his mouth which showed missing teeth and bloody gums.

The men had looped the wire binding the man’s wrists onto a hook at the end of a rope. The rope was attached to a pulley hanging from the ceiling. They yanked him off the floor and secured the rope. Dangling from the ceiling with his arms stretched straight above his head, the man groaned as the wire dug into his flesh. So much so it drew blood. The blood ran down his arms. But that was the least of his pain.

While the man had swung from the rope, Marco’s two men bashed his legs with baseball bats, splintering and shattering the bones. Blood spurted everywhere, splattering the two men swinging the baseball bats, covering their faces, shirts, and arms. The man screamed as pieces of white bone stuck out from his torn flesh.

Then the goons had hoisted him up higher and rolled a barrel under him. They lowered the man slowly. When his feet sank into the acid, he shrieked and kicked, splashing the burning flesh-dissolving acid onto his legs and even his dick. Millwater had fought to keep his lunch down while Marco sat back in a chair with a leg resting on his other knee, munching on a donut and sipping coffee from a cup. Marco’s men had lowered the man an inch at a time. The man’s screams and the way he twisted in agony still haunted Millwater. It was a warning he had never forgotten.

As Millwater drove to the designated parking area, he paused to admire the surroundings as he had done every other time. How could he not? The two-story mansion must have had twenty or thirty rooms. Millwater had no way of knowing how many. He had never been a guest with free reign of the house. The marble pillars on both sides of the main doors supported a second-floor balcony that provided cover from the rain. Two men sitting up there both had submachine guns. And binoculars which they used from time to time. They gave Millwater a furtive glance before continuing to scan the area inside and outside the wall. A helicopter was perched on a landing pad to the right. Every flower and blade of grass was immaculate. It was so different from Diablo del Norte, the poor town nearby where Marco’s associates lived. Marco Perez lived like a king. A god.

Millwater parked his car and walked to the front door making sure his hands were visible. Two guards with the straps to their submachine guns slung over their shoulders and fingers on the triggers stood at the entry. The deputy sheriff knew the drill and came in civilian clothes with no weapon. He raised his arms into the air and held them up while one of the guards frisked him. These guys were well trained. They even squeezed his crotch and prodded his ass crack. Not many of the sheriff’s men would do that.

One guard escorted Millwater into a large room where he sat down in a cushy leather chair. With his hands clasped in his lap, he crossed his right leg over his left knee only to plant it back on the floor and sit up straight. He rubbed his sweaty palms on his thighs.

The room was as huge as a hotel ballroom. Millwater had been in the mansion several times, but only in this room and the basement where he had witnessed the man’s torture. And sometimes he was offered a trip to the little house by the swimming pool in the rear. Never through the house, though. Always going outside and walking around the perimeter of the mansion. The large room was rumored to be used for entertaining. Everything from large parties to sex shows. Looking at the stage, Millwater wondered if the stories about the donkey were true as he caressed the chair’s soft leather. The chair probably cost more than he made in a month.