Out of the Black by John Rector Page B

the same words over and over.
    “
Lo siento, lo siento, perdoname por favor.
”
    The two of them stayed like that for a long time, then the old man turned to the younger sheriff’s deputy standing just inside the door.
    The deputy looked around, frowned, and backed out of the room.
    I listened to his footsteps trail off down the hall.
    Once he was gone, the old man pulled his hand away and crouched down next to the driver. He whispered somethingto him, and the man nodded, wiping the tears from his cheeks.
    The old man patted the driver on the back, then he stood and nodded to the man in the gray suit.
    The man reached into his jacket and pulled out a small-caliber handgun. He took a suppressor tube from his pocket and attached it to the end of the gun barrel.
    The driver didn’t notice. He just stared down at the rosary, praying, wiping tears from his battered face.
    I couldn’t move.
    I watched everything unfold in front of me. I wanted to scream out for them to stop, but I had no voice. At one point I tried to stand, but the man next to me closed his hand over my shoulder and held me in place. When I looked at him, he shook hd into the Tow

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    The man in the gray suit opened the briefcase and took out a wrinkled sheet of yellow legal paper. He smoothed it and handed it to the old man.
    He looked at the paper then held it out to me.
    I didn’t take it.
    “Is she safe?”
    The old man ignored the question. “I want to know about the people on this list. Who are they?”
    He offered the paper again, but I didn’t need to look at it. I recognized the paper, and I knew where he got it.
    “That’s not mine.”
    “It was in your pocket.”
    “I took it from someone else.”
    “Who?”
    I shook my head.
    The old man sighed and took a pair of reading glasses from his pocket and slipped them on. He read down the list of names, one by one. When he finished, he stared at me over the top of his glasses and said, “You know these people?”
    “No,” I said. “I don’t.”
    “Your name is on here.”
    I nodded.
    “What is the plot against my family?”
    “Plot?” I tried to say more, but I stumbled over my words. “I don’t—”
    “Who else was involved?”
    “Involved?” I looked over the old man’s shoulder at the man standing behind him. “There’s no plot. It was just a job.”
    “A job.”
    “That’s right.” I could feel my mind spinning away from me, and I bit down hard on the insides of my cheeks, letting the pain pull me back. “Just tell me she’s safe.”
    The old man turned to the deputy. “A chair, please.” the light the frontAK. It was
    The deputy went out.
    For a while the room was silent except for the slow drip of blood running from the trench into the drain. When the deputy came back, he had a metal folding chair. He opened it and set it in front of me.
    The old man eased down onto the chair and crossed one leg over his knee. He set the yellow paper on his lap and leaned back, staring at me, tapping his cane on the cement floor.
    “Do you know who I am, Mr. Caine?”
    “No,” I said. “Not really.”
    The old man smiled. “You didn’t think it wise to find out even the most basic details of the man whose wife you were planning on kidnapping?”
    “It wasn’t my plan,” I said. “I was hired to drive.”
    The old man nodded. “Yet it was you who contacted me. It was you who demanded I pay a ransom for the safe return of my wife. And it was you alone who arrived to pick up the money.” He paused. “That seems like a great deal of responsibility for a man just hired to drive.”
    I wanted to explain, but I knew it wouldn’t make a difference, so I kept my mouth shut.
    The old man stared at me for a moment longer, then he took a deep breath and said, “To be honest, there’s not much you would’ve discovered. Other than occasional charity work, I’ve made it a priority of mine to keep a low profile over the years. I’ve found it makes things easier.” He paused.