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.I might as well have tried to cut down a tree with a spork.The giant clubbed me over the head with his fist, and suddenly I didn't feel like fighting so much anymore.“Say,” I choked out, “you’re kinda big, anyone tell you that?”“Shut up.” His voice would’ve been just right for a baritone in a barbershop quartet.I tried to shout out, but all I managed was a squeak.The mayor’s car vanished behind a wall, and the ground beneath my feet changed from concrete to brown dust.Jesus Christ, where’s he taking me? Panicking, I tried to get my feet.If I could stand, maybe I could fight.But Stretch jerked his arm, damn near ripping my throat out in the process, and I lost what balance I had.Machinery.I heard power tools, the stomp of nail guns and the grumble of a cement mixer.Voices too.Risking another drubbing, I grabbed hold of Stretch’s wrist and twisted myself round to see.A dozen construction workers in orange vests and yellow hardhats grew quiet and still around us.“Help,” I said.It was worth a try.Stretch slammed me face-down into the ground.The wind went out of me along with the rest of my fight.My mouth tasted like rust.“Leave,” Stretch said.“I’d be glad to,” I mumbled into the dirt.A boot came to rest on my shoulder blades and pushed down.I groaned.“Leave,” he said again, and this time my short-circuiting brain figured out he wasn’t talking to me.I got my head out of the dirt in time to see him pull back his coat.The short-barreled shotgun he pulled out had no reflection in the sunlight.The construction workers stared at it, like they didn’t know what it was.Then he pumped it.There’s a special kind of silence that comes after a noise like that.Even the sounds of engines and car horns in the distance faded away.A few construction workers backed away.Then it turned into a flood.Some moved so fast they actually kicked up dust trails like on a Road Runner cartoon.Within twenty seconds, I was alone.Well, aside from the giant with the shotgun.“I got an idea,” I said.“How about we settle this over a game of Hide-and-Seek.Close your eyes and start counting.”He slammed the shotgun barrel into my spine.Lightning shot down my legs.I grunted.I felt my shirt tear as he lifted me up by it.One-handed.Tania was gonna kill me.“What?” I said.“Afraid you’ll lose?”He carried me across the construction site.My feet didn’t even touch the ground this time.For a minute he went back and forth, like he was looking for something.Then he stopped beside the foreman’s hut, grunted, and hurled me against the wall.I hit it face-first and a wave of pain broke through my nose.Next thing I knew I was on my back in the dirt.Something was dribbling out my nose and down the back of my throat.I spluttered.Stretch appeared above me, blocking out the sun.He had a different gun in his hand now.My gut clenched.No.Not a gun.A power drill.I tried to scramble up, but he dropped to his knees and slammed his palm into my face.I tasted blood and dirt and the sweat on the man’s hand.I got my first decent look at his face.It was expressionless.He lifted up the drill and pulled the trigger.The whir of the motor made my chest contract so tight it hurt.“Why?” I said.Or at least, that’s what I tried to say.He grabbed my jaw and forced it open.And with that same blank look on his face, he brought the spinning drill bit toward my teeth.Why did they always have to go for the face?“This is a message,” he said over the sound of the drill.“The only one you’ll get.”I was going to make a smartass comment, but speaking’s difficult when a giant’s got hold of your mouth.“Go,” he said.“Leave town.Find a nice girl, fuck her, marry her, fuck her best friend, get divorced.Become a sports fan.Learn to drive a tractor.Just never come back.Forget about dead women.Forget about your conspiracy theories.Do you understand, Miles Franco?”He let go of my jaw enough for me to talk.The drill was an inch from my front teeth.I was going cross-eyed looking at it.“Does it still count as a conspiracy theory when this is happening?” I said.“No,” he said, his voice as flat as his face.“I suppose not.”“Does this sort of thing really work?”He nodded.“Usually.”“And when it doesn’t, what do you do then?”He brought the drill so close I could feel the air moving against my upper lip.“What do you think?”I tried not to breathe.He backed the drill up an inch or two.“You get the picture, Franco?”“I got the whole goddamn picture gallery.”“And you’ll leave this alone?”“I’ll take it under advisement.”A flicker of a smile.“You shouldn’t make jokes in a situation like this.”“Yeah, I know,” I said.“But you gotta leave ’em laughing.”He released the trigger, and the drill bit stopped spinning.I exhaled and turned into a puddle of warm honey.Without another word, Stretch tossed the power tool aside and stood up.I caught a glimpse of the shotgun hanging against his body as his coat flapped open.He gave me one final boot in the stomach to make it official.A punctuation mark to end his message.Then he turned and strode away, his long legs eating up the distance.When I could breathe again, I got up onto my hands and knees and spat a glob of blood into the dirt.I was trembling all over.After another couple of minutes, I felt brave enough to try standing.Somehow, it worked.I brushed the dirt off my ripped shirt and shoved my hands in my pockets to stop them shaking.I reckoned I had time to go home and have a shower before I went to see AISOR.Some chump with a growth disorder wasn’t going to stop me that easily, not any more than a Vei with a knife and a dislike of ears.I still owed it to Claudia.I owed it to myself.Besides, this was getting interesting.They always said I was a bad listener.TENThe AISOR offices were something else.One whole exterior wall of the building consisted of a couple of hundred huge TV screens, showing a rotating image of the AISOR logo interspersed with pictures of grinning customers.The building wasn’t near the tallest around, but it was the only one on the street that looked like it was pulling a profit [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]