Free Evil in Hockley by William Buckel Page B

time but was
awaken with pails of water. John Dean and Lenea sat at a table
sipping drinks, talking to each other as though nothing else was
happening in the room.
    Harry woke in a basement shackled to a
cement wall. He attempted to explore his surroundings through
swollen eye lids. He saw only a few feet of the place, the rest a
blur. He did after a time make out Shelley near him propped against
the wall. Her hands were still bound with leather lace, stitched
around bones, holding them together in a praying fashion. Each eye
had a pencil shoved deep. He wondered if she was still alive. The
basement was too small to be the one in the bar so he assumed it
was the one in Joe Sharky’s house. Harry eyed his chains then
realized he was in deep shit.
    Harry finally came to the conclusion
that when dealing with Dean and Lenea he could not rely on what he
saw. She had some magical control over his mind. A recognition
that, on his part, was too late materializing.
     
    It was later when John Dean and Lenea
came with a pitcher of water. Lenea poured Harry a glass then let
him drink it. When he was finished she took the glass. Dean spoke
first.
    “He’s alive. He shouldn’t be, but he
is.”
    Lenea turned Harry’s face from side to
side then said,
    “The spell I used on him by the bridge
should have put him out but it barely worked.”
    Dean paced then said,
    “He’s not invincible. He can’t break
free of his bonds therefore hasn’t a hint of a gift.”
    “There’s something wrong here John. I
can feel it.”
    “Could it be a spell Karma hexed him
with? Something that gave him immortality?”
    “I doubt it but lacking any other
explanation that would have to be it.”
    Harry forced himself to
speak.
    “Is Shelley still alive?”
    It came out sounding like he was
talking under water.
    Lenea shook her head, disgust showing
on her face.
    “You have this fascination with Shelley
as though she has the answer to the meaning of life itself. What
makes you think she knows more than you do?”
    Harry shrugged. She was his only
lead.
    Lenea sat on her heels before him. She
was a formidable woman, not some thin wannabe model.
    “Yes Harry, she’s still alive. I can
keep her that way indefinitely but I’m afraid that sooner or later
Joe’s going to get sick of putting her up in his basement. Probably
after he’s done with you.”
    John Dean laughed.
    “He’ll be happy as a lark to hear
you’re still alive. He get’s to punish you all over again
tonight.”
    Harry had to give it a try.
    “Did he kill my brother,
Jarrod?”
    Lenea glanced at John then back to
Harry.
    “We don’t know. We were told to
eliminate you. Once we’re told that, a decision has already been
made. We’re not a jury, we’re the executioners. We’re not
interested in the details.”
    Dean added,
    “Too much knowledge confuses the issue
which is just simply that you have to die.”
    Harry understood these two. He really
did. His job in the Middle East wasn’t unlike theirs. He was given
a target and told to eliminate someone. Whether for the common
good, his country, or money: did it really matter? They were
assassins, same as he was.
    Harry, Lenea, and John played the game
knowing risks and rewards the same as a boxer when he enters the
ring. It’s a battle between two consenting adults. What bothered
Harry was when innocent people like Shelley were dragged into a
fight.
    As a matter of fact all the folks Joe
Sharky and Bobby Mercer preyed on were innocents. They sold illegal
drugs to people already in despair. They promised to make lives
better yet made them worse. All for the almighty buck.
    Yes, Harry understood these
two.
    He asked,
    “Can I speak to Shelley? I mean what’s
the harm if I’m going to die?”
    Lenea looked at John who shook his head
then answered.
    “Not part of the job. She may not be
able to answer in any case.”
    Harry suddenly realized his problem. If
it was an assignment he wouldn’t have screwed up. He never