“The product?” Placido grabbed her by the arm and lifted Fantine to her feet. “Far be it from me to assume your strength, Miss Park, but I do not believe you or your people planned your approach very well.” He pulled her to the office’s door and kicked it open. The room filled with the hum of machines. “Take a look. Can you have moved product at this scale on your own?” Placido released his grip and motioned out the door. “Go ahead, look. You try to run; it’s a bullet to the back and another for the old man.”
Fantine nodded and shuffled towards the open door. She leaned forward and peeked out.
This was no clinic. The place was as large as a warehouse space. Lit from above by fluorescent lights on vaulted ceilings. White on white was the theme—like an Apple commercial. A forklift drove by with a tank marked hazardous materials. To the left and right of the office were more doors leading to smaller, enclosed offices. Fantine swore she could hear panicked voices a door down—even a scream. Ahead of her were what looked like silos— a head taller than her and made of steel. They were connected to massive generators with hoses. They were also marked as hazardous materials.
“I don’t understand.” Fantine turned to Placido. “This is like a factory. I thought this was a clinic—shit—are we even at your clinic?” She had to wonder, if Placido was running this much product, how did Aleksei expect her to transport any of it? Where did he receive his information?
“We are below. Semen can be very sensitive to stress. We try not to move the product until it is time to ship.” Placido took a seat and motioned for Fantine to go back to her own. “Enough about the logistics of my business. Please. I have more questions.”
Fantine sat back down. “I can’t imagine what else I would know. Looks like I didn’t know a fucking thing, to be honest.”
“This part is more for my own benefit really. Personal curiosity.”
Fantine remained silent. Studied the floor.
“What were you told about this place?”
“That you had product that would fetch some crazy cash overseas.”
“And?”
“That was about it.” Fantine nodded to her father. “They held him over my head just like you have.”
Placido stared at Jae. “You should have maybe avoided people like us then, no?”
“I’ve tried.”
“Not hard enough.” Placido aimed the gun at Jae.
“No, no, wait!” Fantine lunged and slid in between the gun and her father —arms stretched out. “Maybe you can use me for something else?” She was reaching, but if she could delay the inevitable for one more minute.
Placido smiled. “What could you possibly do for me?”
Fantine’s jaw twitched. Her eyes felt as if a thousand red hot needles were hovering millimeters away. She hadn’t thought that far out, but the idea came to her. “I can…I can steal back from Aleksei. He has to have something, anything that you’d want. Money, information. If it’s in a safe or a hard drive—I can get it for you. The man’s been in business forever.” She locked eyes with Placido. “There’s a big storm tomorrow, right? We were going to use it as a distraction against you. It’ll be easy—Aleksei will probably be out of town for all we know.” Guys like Aleksei always had an apartment someplace far away, more often for the mistresses or to sleep off a hard night of drinking. Pete had at least hinted at that, but who knew how honest he was being.
Placido slipped the safety back on the gun, but didn’t lower the piece. “What do you get in return?”
“Just let us live, please. We’ll disappear.” Fantine snapped her fingers.
Jae shifted on the couch. Fantine bent over and wiped his brow. “Be easy, Dad.” She looked back to Placido. “Name your price.”
“You know I have more than enough money?”
“Not contacts, not clout. I’m not joking. A player like Aleksei had no idea how this operation worked. You’re an unknown—which may be good for this business—but what if you want to branch out? I can get you whatever it takes to put that asshole in the gutter.” She smiled. It was an appeal to the man’s greed—a shitty gamble if he was making millions off this product.
“That he has,” Placido finally conceded.
“So let me make it even—square. It’s win-win for everyone.”
Placido slipped his gun into his waistband—a sign the deal was almost there. He beckoned to Fantine with a finger. “Follow me.” He walked out of the office and down three doors.
Fantine followed. She met Placido outside a wooden door. Behind it, the sound of machinery. Reminded her of an industrial vacuum. The smell of the place still assaulted her sinuses. As if someone kept poking cotton swabs in her skull.
“It is like a stud farm, only more humane, no?” Placido grinned.
Fantine nodded.
Placido opened the door to the other office. Inside, it was more like a dentist’s working space. Cabinets filled with medical supplies, signs to wash hands or dispose of hypodermics. Dead center was a reclined chair. In that chair, a naked and sedated Peter—a tube latched to his dick. That tube was connected to the machine she heard. That noise must have been coming from every other office in the working space.
“I know about Uryevich, and I know this is his son. I recognized him when he walked in.” Placido cleared his throat. “The boy had a habit of causing problems with a lot of the more troubling element in this city.”
Fantine blinked. Pete was beaten to hell, his face bloodied and swollen. His fingers red-rimmed—at least he fought back when he could. The tube attached to him twitched rhythmically, a light pink liquid being sucked back into the machine. This was something out of a horror film. She half expected there to be a Rube Goldberg machine set to tear Pete’s entrails out if he tried to escape. “Holy hell.”
“We milk our ‘studs,’” Placido said it with a laugh in his voice. “Takes too much time to have them do it themselves.” He walked over and shut down the machine. Unlatched the top of it. “Unfortunately, our newest stud is not a producer, even with the machine set to ‘high.’” He stared down at the collected product. “He’s barely added to this batch and is already bleeding—what a shame.”
Fantine cringed. She avoided looking at Peter. “Why would you do this? Wouldn’t you need more people?”
“We rotate. Our buyers believe this all comes from a group of twenty men. As for stimulation.” Placido removed the tube on Pete’s dick and lifted a group of wires that ran under Pete’s ass. “We provide the prostate with stimulation—electric shock.” He reached over and opened the top of the machine that was collecting Pete’s materials.
“What?” Fantine stared at the wires. Couldn’t understand why anyone would run a business like this.
Placido grabbed Peter by the back of the neck and in a single motion lifted him up and face first into the vat of collected semen. Pete was limp as a raw bacon strip. He didn’t fight back—he barely made a noise. Peter merely hunched his shoulders as he drowned in cum. The liquid bubbled weakly and went still in short time. Placido pushed Pete’s head in further and grimaced. It was an odd sight; a flaccid corpse with a twitching erection.
Fantine backed away. She didn’t know what to say or do. There was nothing she could say or do. There was a choke at the back of her throat, but it refused to emerge. A charge of energy ran through her spine and limbs, but she couldn’t move. All she could do was turn her gaze.
“You watch!” Placido roared.
Fantine turned back to face the scene.
Placido had his gun trained on her again, his eyes wide and bloodshot. There was a vein throbbing on his left temple. “You watch,” he hissed the words.
Fantine did as she was told. The tears flowed freely, but she was too afraid to make a noise. She kept her mouth clenched as the sobs trying to emerge made her tremor. As angry as she was with him, Pete didn’t deserve this—he was still her friend.