Unfounded Fears

Part 2

"Nice try," Del Barton muttered as he tore the wire free from Peter's collar, keeping his gun trained on Peter's chest. He turned to the man standing to the side, "Search the perimeter." The underling nodded obediently and left the room.

The gun dealer grinned at his two cohorts, each of whom firmly held one of Peter's arms. "So what do you think we have here? Cop or Fed?" Peter twisted his body, attempting to loosen the holds of the larger men, but found their grips to be firm. Del chuckled at the futility of the movement.

He walked over to a nearby table, laid the bug on its surface, picked up a crowbar from the floor and smashed the listening device with it. The dealer then walked around the three men and proceeded to pat Peter down from behind, looking for another weapon. He had already relieved Peter of his Baretta while searching for the wire. The gun dealer was taking no chances however. He was going to make sure that their captive did not have a second weapon. He left no part of Peter's body untouched. Peter moved, uncomfortable with the contact. "Hold him still," Del ordered his men, and the grip on Peter's arms tightened.

Peter prayed that the man could not feel the second gun which was strapped to Peter's right ankle. The man's hands pressed into Peter's lower left calf and ran down to his foot, finding nothing. The hands then moved to the right calf and repeated the motion. They immediately stopped upon coming into contact with the weapon. "Knew there'd be another one," the man said smugly as he lifted the cuff of the jeans and pulled the weapon from the ankle holster.

"Who are you?" Barton growled.

Peter remained silent, knowing that there was no answer which would satisfy the man.

Del sighed at the silence of their prisoner. He picked up the crowbar and prodded Peter in the back with the end. "Are you a fed or a cop?" the man asked.

Peter said nothing. Del sighed a second time, "You know this silent treatment is only going to tick me off. Where's your backup?" Peter still remained silent.

"Kinda stupid of you. You wore a wire to an undercover job, but no tracking device?"

Peter closed his eyes for a moment. The young cop tried to fight down his rising panic. This meeting was not quite going the way he'd planned. He prayed silently that Paul had been able to follow the Mercedes here.

"You know, Barton, this is not a good way to handle business," Peter finally said, deciding that he needed to stall for time. "Do you treat all your buyers this way?"

Barton laughed and circled Peter, facing him. He lifted the crowbar up and pushed the end firmly against Peter's chin, forcing his head back.

"My customer relations are just fine. It's cops I have a problem with." Barton smiled. He removed the crowbar and smiled at the deep indentation the weapon had made into the detective's skin.

Peter did not like the fact that the man remained so calm. It was time to try a different tactic. "Backup is outside. They know I'm here. You try anything and they'll make sure you never walk out of here alive."

The man laughed at the young cop's threat. "I would think that if you had backup, they would have been storming the place the minute I found the wire."

The man circled around Peter and the two thugs holding him, so that he was standing behind the helpless man. He leaned forward and whispered into the cop's ear, "You know what I think? I think that you were stupid. You were supposed to get the information from me when we first met. I don't think you were ever supposed to leave with us. But you screwed up. . .You thought you could take us down all by yourself. Now, you are on your own."

Peter knew the man was right. He had screwed up and now he could not count on help. Deciding it was time to take matters into his own hands, he gathered his strength and pulled his leg up and the pushed his foot backwards into a kick, hoping desperately to be able to take out the man standing behind him. The thugs holding his arms expected retaliation and held on tight. Peter's efforts were in vain. Del Barton had detected the movement and sidestepped the back kick.

The man chuckled, the evil sound causing chills to run down Peter's spine. "Bad move," he said calmly.

Peter knew by the sound of the man's voice that something was going to happen, but what, he wasn't sure. He tried to mentally prepare himself. Then the stab of pain radiated through his back and down his legs as the crowbar impacted with his pelvis. Peter couldn't stifle the scream that came to his lips as his numb legs collapsed and the weight of his body fell victim to gravity. He never hit the floor, though. The firm hands of the men held him upright.

Del laughed and moved to face Peter. Peter closed his eyes, fighting down the pain, and concentrated on moving his legs, his only defense against the men. His left leg moved slowly forward, but the numbness from the blow gave it no strength.

Del watched Peter's failed attempt to defend himself and shook his head, "Too bad. You should have been better prepared. Where's your backup Cop? Or is that Fed?"

Peter shut his mouth, refusing to satisfy the man with an answer. Del shook his head, disappointed at the lack of cooperation from his prisoner. Without a flinch, he swung the crowbar and connected with Peter's side, striking just above the left hipbone and below the rib cage. Peter cried out in pain a second time, trying desperately to hunch forward and protect his exposed abdomen, but the men held him firm.

Barton laughed at the detective. "My guess is that you're a cop. A fed would have been smarter than this." He circled behind the man again. Peter closed his eyes, fighting the tears which were welling up from the pain. He knew what was coming, but had no idea how to avoid it. As expected, the crowbar came down on his back again, this time impacting with his left shoulder blade. Peter instinctively threw his body backward, a gasp of air escaping his lips. The men kept him upright.

"You should really learn to be more cooperative," the man suggested, his voice mocking friendliness. Barton was now in front again. Peter knew that the pattern would continue and the crowbar would come at his exposed chest. He tried to lean forward, blocking the blow, but the hands wouldn't let him move. The crowbar was brought swiftly forward, and this time landed directly on Peter's lower left ribs. Peter felt. . .heard a snap and cried out, knowing that ribs had broken.

The pain was intense. Peter tried to push it down, but it flared in so many places, he could not concentrate on any one spot. His vision began to blur as tears fell from his eyes. Through his fuzzy vision, he saw the crowbar raise again and new that more pain would explode in his chest.

A sound from behind caused Barton to turn before another blow could be inflicted. The man who had been searching the perimeter returned, slightly out of breath.

"There's a black van parked in the alley between the two buildings to the west of us. It's empty. Looks like a police van. . .listening equipment inside."

Barton nodded to the two men holding Peter and in unison, they let loose of the cop's arms. Like a rag doll, Peter fell to the ground. The pain in his chest and back was overwhelming and he squirmed on the floor, trying to find some relief. His breath came in gasps, the broken ribs hampering his ability to recover.

"It's time to leave," Barton muttered. Looking at the helpless man lying before him, he smiled. "Too bad. I was really hoping for some new business." He looked up at the man standing near Peter's head, "Tie him up. Put him in the backseat. We'll take him with us. If we aren't followed, we'll dump him in the river."

End Part 2

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