Read Online The Twisted Cross by Mack Maloney - Free Book Online
Authors: Mack Maloney
Tags: Suspense
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It's just not your style, as they say."
"I don't believe this," Crockett said. "This big slob is giving us a hard time
. . ."
LaFeet laughed. "Do you really keep forgetting you're such well-known heroes?"
the rotund criminal asked mockingly . "I'm surprised at you. Torture? A burning stake perhaps? Ha! I know the worst you will do is turn me over to the proper authorities, and believe me, 111 buy my way out of that before you can bat an eye."
"Maybe we can starve him," Hobbs offered.
"That would take too long," Crockett replied, swatting away a swamp fly.
"Let's face it: He knows we're' the good guys and that we won't grease him under these circumstances."
Tyler looked at Hunter. "It seems like this poor excuse for a human being has us over a barrel."
Hunter, who had been quiet all during LaFeet's bragging, now stepped forward again. In his hands was the half gallon jug of honey.
"Maybe," he said. "Maybe not ..."
He unscrewed the honey jar lid and stuck his finger inside.
"Good batch," he said, licking off a portion of the sticky sweet stuff. "And I have a feeling that our pal here isn't the only one hungry out in this swamp .
. ."
To make his point, Hunter held up his honey-dipped finger and within seconds it was covered with dozens of the pesky swamp flies.
LaFeet was the first one to make the connection. Suddenly his swagger vanished and was replaced with his old friends, fear and groveling.
"You wouldn't ..." he whined.
Hunter just nodded and poured out a heaping, dripping portion of the honey on to the jar lid. He stepped closer and stood directly over the big man.
"Tell us about your little cruise to Colombia," Hunter snarled at him.
"No . . ." LaFeet said. "No way ... I can't . . . They'll kill me if I tell you how I got the . . . the stuff . . ."
"We don't give a damn about your nose candy," Hunter shot back. "How did you get through the Canal?"
LaFeet was momentarily taken back by Hunter's question. But he quickly began shaking his head.
"They'll kill me if I tell you that, too," he said.
Hunter didn't want to beat around the bush any longer. It was hot and sticky and very uncomfortable out in the swamp, and the honey on his hand and in the jar lid had attracted a swarm of the pain-in-the-ass "miggee" flies.
So he took the honey lid and poured out a long stream of the sticky goo over LaFeet's head. The big man had rather long hair and the honey quickly matted it down.
"Jesus Christ! No!" he yelled. But it was too late. Within seconds, his face was a mass of honey and swarming flies.
"How did you get through the Canal?" Hunter asked again, even more harshly.
"I can't tell you . . ." LaFeet screamed. "They'll hunt me down. They hunt everyone down . . ."
Hunter applied some more honey to the man's face and shoulders. Another few thousand flies immediately showed up.
"Who's running the Canal these days?" Hunter pressed. "How come that cruise liner got through?"
"God, man, this is inhuman!" LaFeet screamed as he involuntarily sucked the bug-drenched honey into his nose and mouth. The man's face was now actually hard to see with so many swamp flies and other assorted insects flying around his head.
"So is murder and selling underage girls . . ." Hunter said as he dumped another load of honey down the front of LaFeet's mu-mu. He and the other three airmen then walked a few yards away and sat down to wait, playing their utility flashlights on the tortured 550-pound man.
"Look! Ants!" Hobbs called put, being the first to spot the dual stream of red insects now crawling up LaFeet's legs and torso to catch the lower drippings of honey.
"Talk, big boy!" Hunter yelled out, swatting a few ants away from himself.
"No! I can't!" LaFeet screeched, spitting out globs of honey and insect-laced saliva.
"You will . . ." Hunter countered.
Ten minutes passed and it appeared as if every representative of the insect kingdom was now either crawling on or orbiting around LaFeet's massive frame.
The man
"I don't believe this," Crockett said. "This big slob is giving us a hard time
. . ."
LaFeet laughed. "Do you really keep forgetting you're such well-known heroes?"
the rotund criminal asked mockingly . "I'm surprised at you. Torture? A burning stake perhaps? Ha! I know the worst you will do is turn me over to the proper authorities, and believe me, 111 buy my way out of that before you can bat an eye."
"Maybe we can starve him," Hobbs offered.
"That would take too long," Crockett replied, swatting away a swamp fly.
"Let's face it: He knows we're' the good guys and that we won't grease him under these circumstances."
Tyler looked at Hunter. "It seems like this poor excuse for a human being has us over a barrel."
Hunter, who had been quiet all during LaFeet's bragging, now stepped forward again. In his hands was the half gallon jug of honey.
"Maybe," he said. "Maybe not ..."
He unscrewed the honey jar lid and stuck his finger inside.
"Good batch," he said, licking off a portion of the sticky sweet stuff. "And I have a feeling that our pal here isn't the only one hungry out in this swamp .
. ."
To make his point, Hunter held up his honey-dipped finger and within seconds it was covered with dozens of the pesky swamp flies.
LaFeet was the first one to make the connection. Suddenly his swagger vanished and was replaced with his old friends, fear and groveling.
"You wouldn't ..." he whined.
Hunter just nodded and poured out a heaping, dripping portion of the honey on to the jar lid. He stepped closer and stood directly over the big man.
"Tell us about your little cruise to Colombia," Hunter snarled at him.
"No . . ." LaFeet said. "No way ... I can't . . . They'll kill me if I tell you how I got the . . . the stuff . . ."
"We don't give a damn about your nose candy," Hunter shot back. "How did you get through the Canal?"
LaFeet was momentarily taken back by Hunter's question. But he quickly began shaking his head.
"They'll kill me if I tell you that, too," he said.
Hunter didn't want to beat around the bush any longer. It was hot and sticky and very uncomfortable out in the swamp, and the honey on his hand and in the jar lid had attracted a swarm of the pain-in-the-ass "miggee" flies.
So he took the honey lid and poured out a long stream of the sticky goo over LaFeet's head. The big man had rather long hair and the honey quickly matted it down.
"Jesus Christ! No!" he yelled. But it was too late. Within seconds, his face was a mass of honey and swarming flies.
"How did you get through the Canal?" Hunter asked again, even more harshly.
"I can't tell you . . ." LaFeet screamed. "They'll hunt me down. They hunt everyone down . . ."
Hunter applied some more honey to the man's face and shoulders. Another few thousand flies immediately showed up.
"Who's running the Canal these days?" Hunter pressed. "How come that cruise liner got through?"
"God, man, this is inhuman!" LaFeet screamed as he involuntarily sucked the bug-drenched honey into his nose and mouth. The man's face was now actually hard to see with so many swamp flies and other assorted insects flying around his head.
"So is murder and selling underage girls . . ." Hunter said as he dumped another load of honey down the front of LaFeet's mu-mu. He and the other three airmen then walked a few yards away and sat down to wait, playing their utility flashlights on the tortured 550-pound man.
"Look! Ants!" Hobbs called put, being the first to spot the dual stream of red insects now crawling up LaFeet's legs and torso to catch the lower drippings of honey.
"Talk, big boy!" Hunter yelled out, swatting a few ants away from himself.
"No! I can't!" LaFeet screeched, spitting out globs of honey and insect-laced saliva.
"You will . . ." Hunter countered.
Ten minutes passed and it appeared as if every representative of the insect kingdom was now either crawling on or orbiting around LaFeet's massive frame.
The man
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