Bone in the Throat - Anthony Bourdain [99]
"What the fuck is this?" said Skinny.
"I got it at Bat Day at the stadium," said Danny. "Don't fuckin' knock it. Use it right, it hurts."
Harvey sat trembling and wheezing in the cold room, his breath condensing in the refrigerated air.
"Hurry up," said Danny. "I got the day crew comin' in in a few hours. I got a fuckin' business to run here, I don't want this to take all fuckin' night. Find out what we gotta find out and we can go home."
Skinny brought the little bat down sharply across Harvey's nose. There was a crunching sound as the nose broke. Harvey shrieked, and blood ran down over his lips and dribbled off his chin. The refrigerated room was packed floor to ceiling with crates of vegetables, cases of Chinese fireworks, and two racks of men's suits. They absorbed the sounds of the bat as Skinny brought it down twice more, once on each knee. Harvey shrieked again. Sally whipped the coaxial cable across Harvey's cheeks a few times, back and forth. Harvey's screams tapered off into a broken moan, then a whimper. He sat, head bowed, crying silently in pain. Sally stomped on the arches of his feet, eliciting another scream. Skinny leaned in close and pressed the narrow end of the bat against Harvey's broken nose. "Ask him," he said to Sally.
"What did you tell them, asshole," demanded Sally. "What. . . did . . . you . . . tell them?" Skinny pressed the bat harder against the bloody nose.
"I had no . . . no choice," spluttered Harvey.
Sally hit him in the mouth with the cable, shattering teeth.
"Don't hit him inna fuckin' mouth, Sally," admonished Danny. "The fuckin' guy's gotta talk."
Skinny gave Harvey another tap on the nose.
"How long, asshole?" asked Sally. "How long have you been talking to the fuckin' cops?"
"Thinna beginnin," said Harvey, through broken teeth. "Thinna beginna . . ."
Skinny whacked him another time with the bat, on the right knee. Harvey jumped in the chair. Skinny hit him in the left knee.
"Tapes . . ." said Danny. "Ask him if they got tapes."
"Tapes," said Sally, his upper lip trembling near Harvey's ear. "They got tapes?"
Harvey nodded, and Sally punched him in the jaw.
Danny shook his head.
"The fuck's been wearin' a fuckin' wire, you asshole," he said to Sally. "They got you on tape." He gave Sally a fierce look.
Sally punched Harvey again. It made a wet, slapping noise.
"I don't think they got much," he said. "I was careful."
"Whaddaya mean, they don't got much?" yelled Danny. "They prolly got the fuckin place wired up like a fuckin' Christmas tree! Jerk!"
Sally put his face up close to Harvey's. "How long?" he asked. "How long they been listenin' to me?"
"The begin . . . " managed Harvey.
"You already know that, you fuckin' moron," said Danny, disgustedly. "It's a sting, got it? He was workin' with the fuckin' feds from the start. You been lendin' our fuckin' money to the fuckin feds, unnerstand?"
Sally stepped back, fuming. He started to take another swing at Harvey and backed off. He stood, blinking with rage in the cold room, opening and closing his fists.
"They had that beef with the clinics hangin' over him," said Danny. "He's been with them from the fuckin' start."
Sally walked over to a stack of cartons stamped MADE IN MACAO and ripped off the top of one. He rummaged around inside for a moment, withdrew his hand and tore open another carton.
"What the fuck are you doin'?" said Danny.
Sally turned away from the carton with a handful of cherry bombs.
"Hey, I get money for those," complained Danny. "They don't fuckin' buy 'em, the box is open."
"You eat yet, Harvey?" said Sally. "You eat yet?" He reached over and pinched Harvey's nostrils closed. Harvey's eyes raced around the room. He began rocking back and forth in the chair, straining violently at the rope around his waist, trying to keep Sally's other hand away from his face.
"Hold