Free BRAINRUSH, a Thriller by Richard Bard Page A

the thick tape covering Mario’s mouth. He contorted and twisted against the restraints, his body trying to deny what his eyes were seeing. He shook his head violently from side to side, the hardbacked chair jumping beneath him. His eyes felt ready to explode out of his head.
    Battista watched him for several long seconds. “Carlo, let’s end his suffering before the old fool has a heart attack.”
    Carlo yanked the black hood off the bloody corpse. He grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled the dead woman’s head up so that her face was pointed directly at Mario.
    He stopped moving. His tear-filled eyes blinked at a face he did not recognize. 
    Mother of God.
    “That’s right, Mario,” Battista said. “Francesca is at the institute working late tonight. Perfectly safe. And she will remain that way as long as you do as you’re told. Do you understand?”
    Mario’s head was nodding repeatedly even before Battista stopped speaking.
    “Good. Your first assignment is to clean this place up and dump the body in the lagoon before your daughter gets home. Carlo will tell you where. And remember, Francesca must know nothing of this. I expect her to be at the institute tomorrow morning at her regular time, ready to work.” Battista ripped the duct tape from Mario’s lips. “Do you understand?”
    Mario slumped into the chair, his breathing ragged. “Si, signore .”
    “Excellent. My men will untie you so you can get to work. Carlo will call you when we need you again. Welcome to the family.”
    **
     
    That had been four sleepless weeks ago. Since then, Mario had been called upon to collect bodies on five different occasions, each clandestine trip eating a piece of his heart.
    And tonight, there were two corpses, one but a child. Unforgiveable. What was really going on in the dark confines of Battista’s palazzo ? How was Mario to save his daughter from this madness?
    Shuffling footsteps interrupted his thoughts. He looked up from the young girl’s body to discover Signor Battista staring down at him from the darkened portico at the top of the steps. 
    No words were exchanged. 
    None were necessary.
    Resigned to his fate, at least for now, Mario bent over and pulled the bodies into his boat. He had already erected the felze —the temporary wooden cabin he used to shelter passengers from the winter weather—in the center of the gondola. Tonight it would be used to protect its contents from prying eyes. 
    Using the single cord he had brought for tonight’s grim work, he bound the first corpse to the cement block waiting within the small cabin. He needed more rope for the child. His callused hands trembled as he cut a length from his turquoise deck rope. He bound the bodies together, his jaw tight as he cinched the rope around the child’s body. When he was finished, he pulled a rain cover over the cabin opening. 
    Mario never looked back at Signor Battista, but he felt the man’s eyes on him as he guided the boat out of the garage. The old gondolier said a silent prayer to God for his help and guidance, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.

Chapter 9
     
     
     
    Redondo Beach, California
     
    H e was homeless. He should’ve known better.
    One minute he was leaning into the van to help these two Italian creeps unload a couple of boxes in return for a promised ten bucks, the next there was this sting on his neck and someone shoved him hard into the van and slammed the door. When he tried to scramble up to get out of there, his limbs went all mushy, like when your leg falls asleep after you’ve been sitting on it the wrong way for too long. Except this wasn’t just his leg It was both his legs, and his arms, and then his stomach and back got weak, and he found himself just lying there unable to move. He couldn’t even yell. He could blink, breathe, and hear. But that was it.
    The guy behind the wheel was as big as a tank and solid muscle. The shorter one sitting next to him was obviously the boss. Based on the