The Bastard Son's Inheritance

Chapter 7

The Torture

"Is this not the same criminal we were called upon for his arrest yesterday?" one of the officers said casually to his other two colleagues as they drove.

Brian was kept at the back of the van with one policeman to guide him. Not that he could escape even if he was left alone. His hands were bound behind his back like a common criminal. 

"Please officers, I can assure you, I'm not a criminal," Brian stuttered in his defence. "it's a simple misunderstanding. Please allow me to explain myself..."

Whack! 

The sound of a heavy slap reverberated in Brian's left ear causing the words to cease from his mouth. 

His ear began burning like someone had poured acid on him. It was made worse by the headache returning in that instant. He had not yet taken his pain relief medication that morning. 

Brian blinked hard to clear his vision, wishing his hands were freed to hold his head as he felt a tingling sensation around his injury site. 

"You dare to cross Miss Charlie? Do you not know her reputation in Auckville?" the police officer seated with him questioned as he gave Brian another dirty slap. This time across his mouth. 

Brian nearly fell off his seat. 

"Clearly, he's only been working in that hotel without taking the time to learn who his manager is," another officer added. He was the one driving. 

"Don't worry, by the time he experiences the other side of jail, he'd have learned his lesson the hard way." It was the officer at the passenger's seat that spoke for the first time. 

The three police officers laughed. 

"Marco is just the right guy to teach him that lesson," the one seated at the back that slapped him concurred. 

Brian fidegetted uncomfortably in his seat. Marco was a notorious criminal who had been in and out of jail numberless times. The police were even tired of arresting him, because each time he was arrested and released on bail, he'd do something worse the next time. 

A silent trickle of tear flowed down Brian's face as he reasoned his fate in the last 24 hours. He was at first beaten into unconsciousness because of his girlfriend and thereafter hospitalised, then he became homeless and jobless, and just when he thought that fortune had finally smiled on him, he landed in the police net. 

"No, Marco's net," he corrected himself, bitterly shaking his head. 

"Why are bad things happening to me?" Brian groaned silently, thinking about his plans for that morning that had been thwarted. "If only Melvin's phone line had gone through, none of this would have happened," he decried. 

A wave of disappointment hit him as he remembered the look of anguish on Melvin’s face when he was being driven away in the van. 

“Now he must be mad at me that I caused him to finally lose his job!” 

Brian couldn't keep it in anymore, he sobbed. But his tears only made the officers laugh harder. 

"Oh look, the fear of Marco is already resetting his brain," the officer at the back announced and laughed boisterously. 

"Then you can anticipate what will happen when he finally sets eyes on the hefty bully," the officer driving hinted, chuckling. 

"It's not difficult to guess, gentlemen. 

He will surely mess on himself." 

There was a peal of laughter. 

As they continued to taunt and throw jibes at Brian, his self-confidence completely diminished. He recalled the incident at the nurses' on-call room. The thought of it repeating itself made his heartbeat increase rapidly. 

"Look, he's about to pass out," the officer in front chimed in as he observed Brian's vibrating body through the rear view mirror. Brian shut his eyes, unable to bear the shame of watching their mockery faces. 

They finally arrived at the station, the van door was thrown open to bring him down. 

“Get down!” they ordered. But Brian couldn't climb down by himself. He was too weak to even carry himself from the seat. 

A rough hand thrusted him forward so that he nearly collapsed when his feet touched the ground. "Listen if you want to escape the torture from Marco, you can pay your way out," the officer suggested with a smirk knowing Brian couldn't afford such money. 

Miss Charlie had paid them handsomely to keep him locked up till whenever she was satisfied. 

"Yes, if you can outpay the amount your pretty ex-boss paid us, we will be willing to free your criminal ass. Remember, the police is always your friend," another officer supplied teasingly from behind Brian. 

"So what say you?" added the one who drove the van as he alighted and joined in the conversation. 

Brian didn't know what to say. He wouldn't risk touching the money in his account when he hadn't yet confirmed its authenticity. It was already bad enough that he was suffering from a simple misunderstanding, how much more if he entangled himself in fraudulent money. 

"He's not interested," the officer who drove said. "Let's do the needful gentlemen," he urged his colleagues. 

"I am interested, officers. Please tell me how much the money is." 

The officer that brought him down roughly mimicked Brian's voice, "Please tell me how much the money is." 

"He wants to know how much, gentlemen. Shall we tell him?" he laughed throatily. 

"50,000 dollars," the other officer said. 

"What?" exclaimed Brian, his eyeballs popping. 

"Uh hmm. Now you know. So?" 

Brian was tempted to tell them he had some money in his account. He was under immense pressure. But when he tried to speak, his courage failed him. 

"Please have mercy on me and let me go away quietly. I promise to pay you even double that amount once I'm..." 

"Once you what? sneak into the seven-star hotel and try to steal something because you were sacked?" 

"Hell no, officer!" protested Brian. Was that the lie Freya told them? That he was trying to steal from the hotel? "I didn't try to steal anything. I had only gone there for my..." 

They didn't let him finish when they shoved him along. 

"He's clearly wasting our time. Move!" the officer that drove bellowed. He seemed like the most senior of them three. 

Brian was thrown into a small room that wasn't any larger than a wardrobe. The moment he set eyes on a huge figure with a stern-looking face and hideous scar on the forehead sitting at the corner of the cell, he knew that that must be the famous Marco. 

"Please! Please! Officer please, I'm begging you, I'm no criminal. Please don't leave me here with..." the words trailed off his lips as someone pulled him roughly by the ears that his two legs were now suspended in the air. 

"Don't you ever make a sound in here!" The voice was thick and coarse like some demon from the underworld. 

Brian's body felt like a scarecrow as it dangled in Marco's powerful arms. It  trembled violently, making him have hysterics. Then without warning, Marco dumped him on the ground with a loud thud. 

The officer that brought him had a good laugh. "Now that is just the beginning, you scallywag!" 

"Marco!" he shouted the other guy's name. 

Marcos’s heavy breathing was the only response Brian heard. 

"You know what to do." 

Marco licked his lips with a sinister chuckle as a way of answering. “Indeed!” 

"Remember, this is part of your licence to freedom," the officer's tone had an undercurrent of promise to him and a warning to Brian. 

The continuous screams of Brian as he was being manhandled by Marco reverberated through the entire cell. Other inmates in the other cells trembled in fear. Everyone knew that Marco was no criminal to be trifled with. He was used as a correctional measure for any innate person who offended the officers. Everyone dreaded being a victim at the hands of Marco. 

"Hold your ears and jump around like a frog," he ordered Brian. Brian just lay on the cold floor panting and groaning in pain. His body was badly fractured as a result of the continuous pummeling by Marco. He coughed and spat out blood, the last fatal punch to his chin had caused his teeth to clatter against his gum. 

And just when he thought he would die if Marco hit him again, he heard a loud voice shouting, "Stop!" 

Marco grunted in disappointment. "Aaaahhhh, what now!" 

"Stop it right there. That's enough," the voice repeated. 

Marco punched the metal protector instead. His knuckles bled with the effort and he sneered at the officer, baring his teeth in agony. 

The guy was a psychopath, obviously. 

"He's free to go," the officer announced. 

Brian couldn't believe his luck. He had shot his eyes anticipating the punch that would kill him. 

"Free from my clutches?" Marco complained. "So what about my own freedom as a result of torturing him?" 

The officer seeing the blood lust in Marco's eyes heaved and said, "You shall have another chance. This one seems like he's an important personality." 

Brian managed to crane his neck to look around wondering whom the officer was referring to. It was the officer that drove the van. 

"Get yourself up, there's someone important at the reception to see you," he said to Brian.