Read Hate Crime for Free Online Page B

hand over the smooth-sanded wood. “I had no idea you were so talented. At anything legal.”
    “I love workin’ with wood. Messin’ around with my tools. It’s the best part of my life.”
    “A man should have a hobby.”
    “Yeah.”
    They fell silent.
    “What do you think we should do about it?” the visitor asked, finally.
    “Well, I don’t know exactly. Maybe nothin’. With one defendant down and the defense attorney in the hospital, there’s no chance in hell the jury won’t convict the other guy. Once they do that, this whole business goes away.”
    “Maybe.”
    “Don’t you agree?”
    The visitor paused. “I can still see a few loose ends.”
    “I think we’re in the clear. In fact, I was wonderin’ if maybe—”
    “No chance.”
    “Aw, just—”
    “I said no.”
    Manny hated that. The attitude, the arrogance. He’d been plying these trades for a long time. He knew what he was doing, and he didn’t need some hawk looking over his shoulder, bossing him around like he was some kind of toddler. And the pressure just kept coming. Haunting his days and nights. He’d had all of it he could take. As soon as the transfer was complete, he’d have a little talk with this visitor of his. Like maybe a talk involving a snub-nosed .38.
    “Something bothering you, Manny?”
    “I been kinda worried about this whole thing. I guess you know that.”
    “Still having the nightmares?”
    “Big time. Look, no matter what happens in court, I gotta blow the country. It’s not safe for me here. You gotta come across with more money.”
    “You’ve already had more than anyone.”
    “If I can’t get more, you know what I’ll be forced to do.”
    “That would be bad. You worry me, my friend. Why don’t you come up north and join the rest of us?”
    “I prefer the warmer climate.”
    “Yes. That’s what worries me.”
    “Now, if you could just speed up the transfer—”
    “Not a chance.”
    “Are you sure? ’Cause I—” He threw the drill down on his workbench. “I gotta live, you know? And I’m tired of begging. I can’t go on forever . . . like I have been.”
    “Meaning what?”
    “Meaning maybe I need to have me a chat with someone right now.”
    The visitor grabbed his arm and clamped the bench-top vise around it, hard, then locked it.
    “Hey! What the hell is this?”
    “Think of it as therapy. You have dangerous information locked up in that head of yours, Manny. I’m going to help you forget.”
    Manny twisted his arm around, trying unsuccessfully to get free. “What are you talking about?”
    “You’ve outlived your usefulness. You’ve become a risk. An unacceptable one.”
    “Hey—whoa now—wait a minute! Let’s talk about this.”
    “We’ve talked long enough.”
    “If you think you can cut me out now, after I—”
    All at once, Manny felt the wind literally choked out of his throat. His visitor had pushed him backward, sprawled across the workbench, then pinned his neck down. The grip on his throat was even tighter than the vise.
    “Just—wait!” he managed to choke out. “Let’s . . . talk about this! What do you think you’re doing?”
    “Erasing those unpleasant memories.” With his free hand, the visitor picked up the electric drill—and turned it on.
    Beads of sweat broke out on Manny’s forehead. He thrashed back and forth, but was unable to move. “What the hell are you going to do with that?”
    “A little surgical procedure, I think.” The visitor smiled. “Amateur lobotomy.”
    “You must be kiddin’! You can’t—”
    “I’m afraid I can.” The sound of the whirring drill in Manny’s ear was deafening—and terrifying. Slowly, the bit approached Manny’s temple. “Here’s the best part, though. I won’t send you a bill. You won’t have to worry about whether your medical insurance will cover it.”
    “Look! I’m sorry! I was just—I don’t know—I just—” Manny thrashed frantically, but he was unable to get free.