Chapter 2: A Dying Time

The first thing Jonas was aware of was the throbbing pain in his head. The second thing that he was aware of was that his hands were tied to the arms of a chair. He noticed they were bound when he tried to touch his head with his hands. The same flash of knowledge informed him that his legs were bound to the chair too.

"The son of a bitch is coming around," a voice with an accent growled.

"Good," another, more cultured voice answered. "We need him to be fully conscious and aware before we start."

Jonas opened his eyes a slit and winced at the light. He was in his basement family room and bound to a heavy, oak Queen Anne chair. That fact confused him for a moment because this chair was in what his wife called the parlor upstairs. His eyes adjusted to the light a little better and he forgot all about the chair. His wife Sheila and daughter Liz were sitting at each end of the couch about 6 feet in front of him. Two men were behind the couch and two more were sitting between his wife and daughter. The men were holding his wife and daughter against the back of the couch and they weren't particular in how they held them down.

"Sheila, Liz, "Jonas blurted hoarsely and jerked at his bindings. The heavy chair didn't even rock. They had used wire to tie his arms and legs to the chair. He was dimly aware of how tight the wire was wrapped because it was cutting into his skin.

"Jonas," his wife cried.

"Daddy, help us," his daughter screamed as she tried to escape the man's hands that was pawing her.

"No gags," Jonas thought franticly. "Why would they remove their gags?"

"Mr. Gianni," the second voice said from his side. It was the cultured voice he had heard earlier.

Jonas turned his head with a snarl to look at the man. A well dressed Hispanic man was standing about an arm's length away from him. Jonas got no satisfaction from the fact that he was feared so much that they kept away from him even when he was tied down. Jonas noted the odd ornate cross tattoo on the side of the man's neck. It was just like the man's tattoo that he had killed in Phoenix. The Mexican was looking at him and seemed to be searching his face.

Finally the man seemed satisfied with what he was seeing and nodded.

"Mr. Gianni," he said again. His voice had a cultured sound and was almost polite. It was polite like velvet over edged steel. "My name is Francisco Rodriguez. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," Jonas replied. His voice was only a little slurred from the blow on the head. "Your name is Francisco Rodriguez. What is this about? Why are we tied up? We don't involve family in our disputes. Families are off limits."

"Yes, well, I agree that families should be off limits," Francisco replied.

The edge to his voice that Jonas had noticed before had roughened.

"It is too bad that you didn't observe the same protocols," Francisco continued. "This morning you killed my only remaining son." The fury in the man's voice was full blown now and he almost choked on the final words. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself before continuing.

Jonas heard a gasp from his wife and daughter. Sheila knew what he did for a living. Liz didn't.

"But he was a player," Jonas protested franticly. "I wouldn't have been sent after him if he wasn't a player. If your son worked for you and you sent him out then you're the one responsible for his death."

Jonas could see the rage flare in the man's eyes. He could see the battle that Francisco fought to get control of himself. Finally Francisco simply shook his head dismissing Jonas's defense.

Francisco took another deep breath before continuing. "So, Mr. Gianni, Jonas," Francisco continued after he had control of himself. "May I call you Jonas?" He didn't wait for Jonas to answer. "Now I must kill you. The question is, how can I best extract the agony from you that I am feeling? Dominic was my only remaining son and the last of my family. I think it is only appropriate that I take your family from you before I kill you."

Jonas franticly started jerking at his arms and legs trying to break free of the wire and blood started to drip from his finger tips.

Francisco ignored his efforts. "I could just take them with me after I kill you Jonas," Francisco continued in a conversational voice as he walked across to stand in front of Sheila. "Your wife is a little older than we would normally use but she is beautiful. She would be a welcome addition to the brothels that service field hands and occasional ships that dock at the Mexican ports. She should be worth a few thousand at least." He reached out and stroked Sheila's breast and jerked his hand back when she snapped at him with her teeth. The man sitting next to her jerked her head back by her hair and raised his hand to slap her. Francisco stopped him with a shake of his head and smiled over his shoulder at Jonas. "The spirited ones are often worth even more." Francisco stepped to the other end of the couch and looked down at Liz.

The young girl cowered away from Francisco and looked at Jonas. "Daddy, please make them stop."

"I'm sorry, baby," was all Jonas could say to his daughter with a choking sob. "I'm so sorry."

Francisco smiled sadly and said, "A girl this young could bring 50 or 60 thousand US dollars, Jonas. I wouldn't even have to take her out of the country. There are people right here in Kansas City that would pay that much and she would never be seen again. Oh, she would live many years, if you could call the existence she would have life." He stroked the young girl's hair one time before turning away and looking at Jonas.

"Leave my family alone you son of a bitch," Jonas yelled as he jerked at his bonds. "They didn't hurt you. I did. Hurt me."

"Oh I will hurt you," Francisco replied as he slowly walked toward Jonas. "I will hurt you so bad that you will curse the day you were born, Mr. Gianni," he growled. "And when you die you will be thanking God for death to escape the pain in your soul. Your body will feel pain, but the pain in your soul will be so much more that you will carry it with you beyond death," he promised.

Francisco had to take several deep breaths to regain control again. Finally he said, "The problem with taking them with me is that you would not witness their degradation. I could make a lot of money from them but this situation is not about money. This is about retribution. I was told of my son's death less than 20 minutes after you killed him. I knew who had killed him within an hour. I learned that you had a wife and child while my jet flew my men and I to Kansas City. So I thought about it all afternoon, Jonas. I thought about it while my men were discovering if you had returned yet and if your family was home. Another idea I came up with was to have them raped in front of you, and then take them with me. The girl would be worth a little less but still quite valuable and your wife would be worth the same. I thought about the agony that you would feel in your soul Jonas as you watched your wife and daughter raped before being dragged away to a life as slaves."

Jonas jerked at his bonds harder, desperate to escape and save his family.

"But then I thought about my dead wife and our youngest son, my last son, the one you killed this morning," Francisco continued again. His voice had roughened again as he was watching Jonas struggle. "I thought of all the good times we had together. I remembered the trips to the zoo with him and his mother when he was young and the hunting trips when he was old enough. All the good times..." his voice choked again before trailing off in memory of bygone days.