Abacus

finish with the eyes, I want his tongue hacked off and ground into the floor. Then I want him left. He wi ll see no evil or speak no evil as he is plunged into total darkness.”
    Randall again paused and waited for Noel.
    “Got it,” Noel said.
    “After a few months of not being able to communicate with anyone, and living in darkness, he will be a much easier target f or the second attack. This time I want his fingers cut off so he no longer has the sense of touch. He will have to rely on others to wipe his ass and pull his dick.”
    “Okay ,” Noel said.
    “Finally, I want his inner ears stabbed with a spike so his eardrums are irreparably damaged. He will not be able to hear. He will live in darkness and deafness.”
    “So you definitely want him kept alive?” Noel asked.
    “I definitely want him kept alive. I want Jenkins to see him. I want Jenkins to live in total fear and I want Jenkins to know his time will come.”
    “Okay,” Noel said calmly.
    “Anyway, I expect that Fleming will only live on for a couple of months. We won’t have to kill him, he will go insane before killing himself.”
    Noel f inished his notes and joked, “Okay, Randall, so let me get this straight. You are leaving him with his nose, ’cause he can still smell with that, you know.”
    “Noel, I’ve given this som e thought,” Randall said evenly. “There are no pleasant smells inside a maximum security prison, so I don’t want him to miss out on those. So the beak stays.”
    Noel chuckled. “Okay, Randall, it will be done. It may take a couple of weeks to set up, as you could understand, but the first stage will be completed in the next few weeks, I would guess.”
    About a month later Randall learnt that Fleming was bizarrely maimed in custody, just as Ra ndall had instructed. Randall was amazed at just how willing a “Lifer” in jail became when a significant monetary offer had been made to enrich his family on the outside. Lifers were serving life behind bars in any case, so a small errand such as a mutilation was not too much to ask.
    Two m onths later Randall learned that another “Lifer” had mysteriously disfigured the unfortunate Fleming again. This time, by cutting off his fingers and permanently damaging his eardrums. Now the nightmare had begun for Jenkins, and it would only be a matter of time before Fleming would take the easy way out.

    CHAPTER 7 – MEET THE TEAM

    The following day, Hobbs arrived at six forty-five A.M. to find Randall already hard at work in the Fishbowl. “Morning, boss,” he called, making his way to his desk in obvious discomfort.
    Looking up from his computer monitor, Randall clasped both hands behind his head and rocked back in his chair. “Morning, big fella. How did you pull up?”
    Hobbs grimaced as he slowly lowered himself into his chair. “No worries, boss, fine, good as new.”
    “Good to hear and you’re a damn fine sport to go with it,” Randall said jovially with a more nasally tone than usual to his voice. “But you’ll get your shot at the title again, big guy, when you’re feeling up to it.”
    Returning to his work, Randall ’s nose felt irritated as he sniffed loudly. Looking to see that Hobbs was occupied, he quickly ducked his head under the desk, pushed his finger up one nostril and gently prized out the long length of toilet paper that had stemmed the flow of blood during the night. Tossing the bloodied paper into the bin, he quickly pulled a fresh tissue from the box on his desk, stuffed it into the bleeding nostril, and squeezed the outside of his nose so it still maintained its natural appearance. With first aid taken care of, he calmly rose above the desk and continued typing as though nothing had happened.
    * * *
    About midday, Detective Georgie G ducked his head into the Fishbowl. “You on for lunch, boss?”
    “Lunch?”
    “Farley’s, boss.”
    “Oh yeah , Georgie, it’s Tuesday, isn’t it? I’ll just tidy up… be with you in a sec.”

    Georgie G was the most indecisive member of the team. He was of Greek heritage and stood about five feet six inches tall with a stocky build. He had thick black hair, which he brushed forward giving the impression he wore a poorly fitted toupee, or at best was a throwback from the beatnik era. Either way, he was a very interesting-looking character. Little Georgie G rode a big bike, an immaculate Harley Davidson Heritage Softail, which he parked in a protected corner of the police compound. Georgie