“In the beginning you feel an unquenchable thirst, but from there the human body falls apart quite quickly. The tongue starts to balloon, followed by the drying of the throat lining and nasal passages, making it difficult to talk or even breathe. Lips start to crack, and skin starts to separate, painfully pulling apart with the slightest movement of any kind. Intense cramps surface in your arms and legs, causing spasms of agony that you cannot stop. Your bladder swells from the lack of moisture in your body, making you suffer through the severe urge to urinate, but the joke is on you because there is no liquid in your system to squeeze out. From there your kidneys fail, followed by the rest of your body, including your brain. All in all, not a pleasant way to go.”
Ndjai caught his breath while enjoying the horrified look of the crowd that surrounded him—children clinging to their parents, strangers holding hands for comfort and unity, fear and desperation in the eyes of everyone. It was a sight that he truly loved.
“But as I pointed out to you, dehydration is not the main intent of the Devil’s Box. It is merely a bonus, heightening the effects of its original purpose. And what purpose is that, you may ask. Well, let me tell you. The purpose is agony!”
Ndjai approached the box again, but this time one of the guards handed him a plastic container that was no larger than a carton of tissues.
“When we put Nathan in here several weeks ago, he was covered in cuts and scratches, wounds that I personally administered with the aid of a metal-tipped whip. Since that time his body has been unable to heal the torn flesh because of his severe thirst and his lack of a balanced diet. In fact, I would guess that his wounds are in worse shape now than the day I created them due to the infections that have developed. Tsk-tsk. It is really a shame. Nathan used to be such a large man. We even had a difficult time squeezing him inside the box because of his girth. But now, due to his lengthy stay in my device, he has been sapped of his size and strength—like Superman in a kryptonite cage!”
Ndjai grinned as he held the small container above the opening in the top of the box, taunting the imprisoned man by swooshing the object back and forth. This increased the intensity of Nathan’s screams, turning his moans and wails into terrified shrieks of torment. The sound, which filled the air with a sense of dread, quickly brought gooseflesh to everyone on the ridge.
“One of the most difficult things to deal with in the Devil’s Box is the loneliness. The heat is bad, the thirst is horrible, but the solitude is what gets you. Without companionship, the mind tends to wander, leaving sanity behind while looking for ways to amuse itself. It is a terrible thing, but it eventually happens to each of my victims.”
Ndjai peeled open the container’s cover and slowly started dumping its contents into the box.
“Since I worry about my friend’s sanity, I do my best to occupy him with tangible things. Instead of allowing his mind to drift into a fantasy world, where it is liable to get lost, I try to keep his brain focused on real-life issues. Each day it is something new, and each problem gets more and more difficult for Nathan to solve. You are probably wondering, what is today’s problem?” He laughed softly while answering his own question. “Fire ants!”
Ndjai drained the container into the Devil’s Box, glancing through the cube’s tiny slits to see how Nathan handled it. His intense screams proved that he wasn’t happy.
“As you can tell from his reaction, the sting of the fire ant is very painful. The poison is not life threatening—unless, of course, a person gets stung by several dozen ants in a short period of time. Did you hear that, Nathan? Do not let them sting you, if you can help it!”
Ndjai chuckled as he redirected his attention to the group. “Unfortunately, his task might be difficult. You see, fire ants are actually drawn to the taste of blood, and since he has a number of open wounds, they are going to get pretty wound up, like sharks in a sea full of chum. Oh, well, look on the bright side. If he is able to eat the ants before they eat him, he will get his first dose of protein since his capture.”
The guards smiled at the remark, showing their approval of Ndjai’s presentation.
“At this point of my lecture, I am sure you are wondering why I brought you up here to start this day. That is what you are wondering, isn’t it? Well, the reason is quite simple. I wanted to show you how good you currently have it.” Ndjai paused for a moment to let that comment sink in. “Is the heat of the summer sun intense? Sure it is. Is working all day in the field tough? Definitely. Is sleeping on the ground of your cabin uncomfortable? Of course.”
Moving closer to the group, Ndjai narrowed his eyes to tiny slits. “But keep this in mind. If you mess with me or my staff, I will make things so much worse for you. I will make your stay a living hell.”
CHAPTER 27
DRAPED
in a Tulane University blanket, Payne opened his eyes and gazed around the room. Wearing nothing but boxers, he had spent the night on Greene’s couch but barely got any sleep. Thoughts of Ariane had kept him awake way past daybreak.
Payne felt much better after a quick shower. His body was reenergized, and his mind was suddenly clear. Some people needed caffeine in the morning, but Payne relied on a bar of soap. After getting dressed, he looked for Jones, finding him downstairs in the living room.
“What time is it?” Payne asked.
“Almost noon. I would’ve woken you up earlier, but I know you didn’t sleep much.”
“You got that right.”
“Don’t worry. Levon and I were busy while you were getting your beauty rest.”
“Doing what?”
“Discussing last night. And after careful analysis, we came to the conclusion that Levon messed up bad.”
“How so?”
“He neglected to tell us something about our guns. Something important.”
“Such as?”
“They were loaded with dummy bullets.”
Payne shook his head as he sat on the couch next to Jones. “How did
that
slip his mind?”
“Apparantly, on the rare occasion that Terrell sells a weapon to a new customer, he likes to load them with dummy bullets—substituting sand for powder. That way his weapons can’t be used to rob him.”
“And Levon knew this?”
Jones nodded. “But since he was buying the guns for us, Levon assumed that they’d be loaded with regular ammo.”
“You realize his assumption could’ve gotten us killed.”
“You’re right, and he knows it. The big baby’s been pout ing all morning.”
“Why? There’s nothing he can do about it now. Besides, it’s not like we could’ve saved Sam, even if our guns had worked.”
“That’s what I told him, but he’s still taking it hard.”
“Don’t worry, he’ll be fine once I talk to him. Speaking of which, where is he?”
“At Terrell’s. While you were sleeping, he made an appointment to get us some new guns. This time, loaded with
real
bullets.”
“That should help. When will he be back?”
Jones pointed to a nearby security monitor. “Actually, I think that’s him now.”
Payne glanced at the screen and saw an Escalade pull through the front gate. A minute later, Greene walked through the front door.
“Guys!” Greene shouted. “Where are you?”
Payne and Jones made their way to the foyer, anxious to see why Greene was so excited.
“What’s gotten into you?” Jones asked. “You seem happier than before.”
“That’s ’cause I am! You know how I went to get you guns? Well, I came back with more than that. Something
much
better.”
“I hope you didn’t buy a missile, because Jon doesn’t carry that much cash.”
“No.” Greene laughed. “I got some news on the Posse!”
“On the Posse?” Payne demanded. “How did that happen?”
“Well, I went to the Fishing Hole to talk to Terrell about the dummy bullets. I figured if I bitched enough I could get him to cut us a deal on some new guns. Unfortunately, he was on the phone when I rolled in, and his boys said he’d take a while to finish. So instead of waiting by his office, I strolled out front to check out the talent. And that’s when I saw him!”
“Him?” Jones asked. “What the hell were you doing watching a guy dance?”
Greene rolled his eyes. “The guy I saw was a customer.”
“Was he cute?”
“Anyway,” Greene said, ignoring Jones’s teasing, “I saw this guy leaning against one of the brass railings, his hand and arm just dangling over the side. And guess what I noticed?”
Payne guessed. “A Posse tattoo.”
“Give that man a prize! Can you believe my luck?”
“Did you talk to him?”
“I tried, but he saw me staring at his wrist. I don’t know how he noticed me—I mean, I was being really careful—but he did. Next thing I know, he’s whispering something to the buckwheat next to him, then bolting from the club. Thankfully, the buckwheat at the bar knew everything we needed to know. Well, not everything, but he knew a lot.”
“And trust me,” Jones said, “I want to hear every last word. But first, you’ve got to explain something for me. You keep saying
buckwheat
. What the hell does that mean?”
“Sorry, man, it’s a Southern term. You remember that Little Rascals character, Buckwheat? You know, the one that Eddie Murphy played on
Saturday Night Live
?”
“O-tay,” Jones chuckled, using Murphy’s famous expression. “I remember.”
“Well, there are brothers around this part of the country that are
really
rural. Nappy-looking hair, old work clothes, messed-up backwater language. Well, we call those brothers buckwheats. And trust me, this guy was a buckwheat and a half. Fucked-up dreadlocks, gold teeth, taller than me. Shit, I almost felt bad for the punk.”
“Buckwheat, huh? I’ll have to remember that term.”
“Guys!” Payne yelled, unable to wait any longer. “What did he tell you, Levon?”
“Sorry, Jon.” Greene gathered his thoughts before continuing. “I went up to him all cool-like, just watching the girls for a while. After a couple of minutes, he turns to me and starts talking. As luck would have it, he recognized me from my playing days, and we started bullshitting about football. After this goes on for five minutes or so, I decided to push my luck. I asked him about the guy with the tattoo.”
“And what did he tell you?”
“He said he worked with the guy. He wouldn’t give me many details but said all the brothers he worked with had the same kind of tattoo. It was a requirement for their job.”
Jones frowned. “I didn’t know gangbangers had jobs, other than shooting each other.”
Greene shrugged. “Apparently, these guys do.”
“Or,” Payne added, “maybe they aren’t bangers. Maybe the tattoo isn’t what we think it is. Maybe it isn’t a Holotat.”
“Well, that gets me to the next part. This guy is pretty quiet about his friend, but he’s unable to shut up about himself. He keeps rambling on about his job and stuff. He says he cooks and cleans for a bunch of people every day, and the only time they let him leave is to pick up supplies. Then he mentions the guy with the tattoo is the one who brought him to New Orleans. I guess he’s the buckwheat’s driver or something.”
Jones groaned. “They’re not from New Orleans? That’s gonna make our job a lot more difficult. Or did this guy let the name of the town slip?”
“Nah, I wasn’t that lucky. I asked him where he worked and what kind of place it was, but he got rattled. Said it was top-secret stuff. Said he could get into all kinds of trouble from the state if he blabbed about it.”
Payne frowned. “From the state? What does that mean?”
“You’ve got me,” Greene admitted. “Louisiana might be a little backward, but I’ve never heard of any state workers getting inked for employment. Or any top-secret facilities that would hire a dumb-ass buckwheat like this guy.”
“What kind of place was he talking about?”
“I don’t know, Jon. I asked him, but he said he had to shut up. I even offered to buy him a drink for his trouble, but he quickly turned me down. He said he had to buy a bunch of supplies before it got too late, that he wanted to get his work done before the fireworks started.”
Jones raised an eyebrow. “Fireworks? Isn’t it a day early for that?”
“You’d think so, huh? But the local shows are gonna be held on the third this year. So if you fellas want to see fireworks in New Orleans, you better be looking at the sky tonight.”
Payne didn’t care for fireworks—the loud bangs and bright lights brought back memories of Iraq. But due to the circumstances of that night’s show, he was suddenly a fan. “I’m sure I’m asking for a miracle here, but did this guy happen to say where he’d be watching the fireworks? Because I’ll tell ya, I’d love to talk to him.”
Greene smiled at the inquiry. Not a sly smirk, but a big,
I got a secret
grin. “As a matter of fact, he did. He’ll be watching them at Audubon Park.”
CHAPTER 28
PAYNE
dropped off his friends on opposite ends of the park, then focused his attention on finding a nameless witness in a sea of sixty thousand people. Sure, he realized his chances were slim, but he knew he had three things going for him—his target’s unique appearance (very tall, gold teeth, and more dreadlocks than a Bahamas barbershop), his unwavering determination to find Ariane, and his two kick-ass partners.
Together, they made the Three Musketeers look like Girl Scouts.
With cell phone in hand, Payne parked his car on the Tulane University campus, then jogged for several blocks until he reached the spacious grounds that he had been assigned. Greene had told him that the center of Audubon Park would be packed with partygoers, but when Payne arrived, he was greeted by the exact opposite. The scenic grove was empty.
