Jungle Fever (9/10)
Title: Jungle Fever
Author: Calliatra
Rating: FR15
Category: Gen
Pairing: None
Characters: Tony, the whole team
Genre: Casefile
Words: 2,424 (26,461 total)
Disclaimer: All recognizable NCIS characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: When a Petty Officer’s decapitated body is found it starts an investigation that spirals out of control and places Tony in grave danger.
Written for the Can Anybody Hear Me? Challenge and the Casefile Challenge at NFA and inspired by the Chinese Whisper Challenge.
Chapter Warnings: Cruelty to animals. To a lesser extent, cruelty to Tony.
Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine
* * *
Chapter Eight: A Frantic Search
Alone in cold blackness, Tony groaned as the memories came back to him. Lombard had gotten him, must have knocked him out, judging by the way his head felt. And now he was here, tied up and freezing in what he supposed was some sort of basement or dungeon. To his right, high up and out of reach, he could just make out the pale outline of a window. Through it, he could see a small piece of the navy blue sky. It was still night then. Or maybe he had been out longer than he thought, and it was night again? But no, that wasn’t possible. McGee knew he was in trouble, he would have sent help right away. Lombard must have moved him to… wherever the hell he was before it arrived, but it was only a matter of time before the team found him. He had faith in them. He had faith in Gibbs. Still, he couldn’t help but notice that he was lying tied up in the exact same position Thorne had been in when he was killed.
*
Gibbs paced up and down Autopsy. He was in a very irritable mood, and Palmer had already wisely fled the scene, leaving Ducky and Fornell behind to deal with him.
“Really, Jethro,” Ducky admonished, “I know you’re worried about Anthony, but you have to have faith in him. If he feels it is necessary to stay out of contact, I’m sure there’s an important reason for it.”
“DiNozzo’s a good agent,” Fornell agreed. “He can hold his own. For all we know the triumvirate might have a bug-proof room to discuss the details of the orders.”
But Gibbs shook his head. “No, it’s been an hour. That’s too long.” With that, he strode out, barely giving the sliding doors time to open, Fornell close on his heels.
“You think something went wrong after he cut the feed?” Fornell panted, trying to keep up as Gibbs took the stairs, not willing to wait for the elevator.
“Or maybe before.”
“Your gut telling you that? He did say he was going to cut the signal on purpose.”
They had reached Abby’s lab, and Gibbs stormed through the door without answering.
“McGee!” he bellowed.
“Yes, Boss?” Gibbs’ tone had McGee on alert instantly.
“What did Tony say?”
McGee was flustered. “Uh, nothing, Boss. He hasn’t turned the wire back on yet.”
“Before he cut it!”
“He said the code word, ‘blue’.”
Gibbs glared. “What exactly?”
“Uh, well, he said, ‘It’s the blue makeover.’”
“’The blue makeover?’”
“Yeah, he was kidding around. He’d been doing it all evening. Here, I can play it back for you.” McGee fumbled with a few buttons until Tony’s voice came from the loudspeakers, barely recognizable over the static.
“..It…he…blue…mike…over!” it crackled.
Fornell looked at the loudspeaker with unease. Something wasn’t right. Gibbs, however, stared at his youngest agent in horror. “McGee!” he yelled. “That’s not the code word! He’s saying ‘Shit, he blew my cover’!”
McGee paled, then pressed a button and spoke hastily into his headset. “Tony? Tony, can you hear me? Tony!” There was nothing.
“Boss, I’m so sorry, I should have realized-”
Gibbs couldn’t spare the time to be angry at McGee, or listen to his apology. He turned to confront Fornell. “I don’t give a damn about your warrant, I’m bringing them in!”
Fornell didn’t blink. “I’m coming with you.”
*
“NCIS!” Gibbs shouted at the same time as Fornell yelled “FBI!” Guns raised, they burst through the door of Abernathy’s dining room, with Ziva right behind them.
The table had been cleared, and the guests had all gone home. The only ones left were Abernathy, Dawson, and Lombard, sitting together at the head of the table and obviously startled out of a deep conversation by the federal agents so rudely storming into the room.
Abernathy was the first to get over the shock. He rose to confront the intruders into his home. “What is the meaning of this?”
Ziva pulled out handcuffs and began to fasten them on his wrists, but he backed away. “What do you think you’re doing?” He hissed.
“Joseph Abernathy, you’re under arrest for illegal wildlife trade,” Fornell said calmly, his weapon trained on the man.
“That’s ridiculous!” He tried to shake off Ziva’s grasp. “Keep those things away from me!”
Immediately, he found himself pinned against the dining table with his arms wrenched behind him. “Give me a reason!” she hissed in his ear. Abernathy tensed for a second, then seemed to come to his senses and slumped in defeat, letting her put the handcuffs on him without any further resistance.
At the table, Dawson and Lombard seemed to be shaking off their stunned stupor. Lombard slowly raised his hands when he saw Gibbs’ gun still pointed at them, but Dawson stood, trying to appear unintimidated. “Now wait just one moment,” he said. “You can’t just do that. We have rights!”
“You have the right to remain silent,” Fornell spoke by rote, laying handcuffs on him as Ziva did the same to Lombard. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
Dawson shook himself indignantly. “I know my rights! You will be hearing from my lawyer!”
“You can make the call from headquarters,” Fornell told him, and roughly pushed him towards the door.
“We’ve done nothing wrong,” Abernathy protested as Gibbs grabbed his arm. “Whatever you’re looking for, you’ve won’t find it.”
In one swift movement, Gibbs shoved him against the wall. “What did you do with my agent?” he growled.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Abernathy replied, only slightly shaken. “What agent?”
“Talley. He was here. What did you do to him?”
Something indefinable flashed across Abernathy’s face before he managed to resume his mask of calmness. “Nothing. He left, quite abruptly and without making his excuses. I thought it rather rude. So he was one of your men? I suppose that explains that. But why are you asking me where your man is? Have you misplaced him? I have to say, with the chaos that is today’s police force, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
Gibbs’ face was livid and his muscles flexed dangerously. Fornell came up next to him, tugging Dawson by the elbow, and laid a hand on Gibbs’ arm. “Jethro,” he whispered warningly.
Gibbs yanked Abernathy away from the wall with rather more force than was necessary and propelled him out into the hallway.
Just as they reached the front door, a swarm of FBI cars drew up. A young agent jumped out of the first car and rushed up to Fornell, handing him a piece of paper.
“Oh yeah,” Fornell said casually to Abernathy, holding up the paper, “we have a warrant to search your house.”
*
At one of the computers in Abby’s lab, McGee was desperately trying to find a way to trace Tony’s location.
“I can’t believe this,” he said. “Tony’s missing, he could be dead and it’s all my fault!”
“Don’t say that,” Abby cried. “Tony’s not dead, he can’t be! I mean, he’s Tony, he can protect himself!” She threw herself into McGee’s arms for a hug. “And it’s not your fault, Timmy. The static was really bad, I would have thought Tony was saying ‘blue,’ too.”
She suddenly straightened up before he could answer. “This isn’t helping! McGee, we have to find Tony!”
“I’m trying! But I can’t locate the wire when it’s not transmitting,” McGee said, miserably. “And it’s not. I checked the last position, but that was in the mansion, so that’s no help.”
“The traffic cams aren’t any help, either. There are just too many cars that area, anyone could have stuffed Tony in the trunk and driven to who knows where. But we have to do something!” Abby practically wailed.
*
In Interrogation, it was taking all of Gibbs’ self-restraint not to take a swing at the smug lawyer who had showed up instantaneously to defend Abernathy, despite the fact that it was well outside work hours.
“My agent was in your client’s house when he disappeared,” he growled. “And you’re telling me that he knows nothing about that?”
“As I have already told you,” the lawyer answered smoothly, “my client was not aware the man introduced to him as Gordon Talley was a federal agent. He was also under the impression that Mr. Talley left without notice once the guests had all assembled in the drawing room, and merely thought him rude.”
Gibbs fought the urge to slam his fist on the table in frustration. He really, really hated lawyers.
*
“He just left?” Fornell asked Dawson in the next room.
“My client saw Mr. Talley slipping out the door,” Dawson’s lawyer answered. “When he didn’t return my client assumed he had decided to leave.”
“Without his coat?”
“Perhaps he forgot it in his haste?” the lawyer suggested coolly.
*
“Tell me what you have done with my partner!” Ziva hissed at Lombard in the third interrogation room.
“I didn’t do anything to Talley,” he replied. “You can keep asking me that all night, my answer won’t change.”
Ziva clenched her fists and breathed deeply, telling herself that if she snapped his neck right now, he couldn’t tell her where Tony was.
*
“The phone!” McGee exclaimed suddenly. “Lombard’s phone! Abby, where is it?”
“Here,” she handed it to him. “It was just brought up. Why?”
“Tony said everything was on Lombard’s phone. Maybe there’s a clue to where they took him!” He attached it to one of the computers, and winced when he saw the screen. “This is really heavy encryption, it’s going to take me a while to crack it.”
“Tony might not have a while, McGee! Move over, I’ll help you. We’ve got to find him!”
*
Tony had no idea how much time had passed when he heard a metallic squeak coming from somewhere in the depths of the room. The window remained only slightly brighter than the total darkness around him, so at least he knew it was still night. The squeak was followed by footsteps obviously descending stairs. There was a click, and suddenly there was light, a single bulb hanging from a bunch of wires right above Tony, and while it was a weak bulb, the light was still too bright for his eyes, forcing them shut. When he opened them again he saw the dark silhouette of a man looming over him. He was broad-shouldered, but not particularly tall, and he seemed to have shaggy hair. Unless that part was due to Tony’s vision still being fuzzy. He blinked several times, trying to clear it.
“You’re awake.” The voice was rough, but somehow still kind of high. It gave Tony chills. “I was wondering when you’d open your eyes. I like to see their eyes, you know. It’s fascinating to see the life leave them.” He bent down and Tony flinched involuntarily. So this was the killer, and he had come to finish him off.
The man laughed, an unnatural giggle that made the hairs on Tony’s neck stand on end. “Don’t worry, it’s not your time yet. You’re going to be here for a bit longer.”
Tony said nothing.
“Todd won’t like it, of course,” the man said musing. “He said to make a quick job of it. Nothing fancy, just a few drops of this,” he held up a bottle identical to the one they had found in the boxes of smuggled wildlife. For a deadly poison, Tony thought blearily, the croton oil looked oddly innocuous.
“I shouldn’t make a mess, he said,” his captor continued. “No blood, no kidnapping, nothing that could leave evidence. But where’s the fun in that? What’s the point in slipping someone poison if you don’t even get to see them die?”
Now that his eyes had adjusted, Tony could make out the face looming above him. His captor had large blue eyes, a mouth that seemed to be stuck in a constant pout and a round, pink face. The only thing marring his eerily boyish appearance was the scraggly blond beard unevenly covering his chin, and the look of deranged fascination in his eyes. Tony suppressed a shudder. Leave it to the insane rich guys to hire a psycho killer instead of a straightforward hit man.
“Besides, Todd doesn’t know how good I’ve gotten. I’ve had a lot of time to practice, you see. I know exactly what’s going to happen to you. But I want you to know it, too, it’s more interesting that way. So let me show you.” He smiled in a way that chilled Tony more than the icy floor possibly could.
Suddenly the man stepped outside of Tony’s field of vision, and Tony heard some odd scuffling noises. When his captor stepped back into Tony’s view, he was carrying a clear plastic box about the size of normal moving box. He placed it next to Tony, and through the side, he could see there was a squirrel inside.
“They’re actually very dumb, you know,” the man said. “They’ll trust you if you just give them food often enough, they never wonder why you’re feeding them. And then they’re easy to catch. Look, it even trusts me now.” He held his hand into the box, and the squirrel showed no sign of fear. Withdrawing his hand, he carefully opened the small glass bottle. Then, with extreme care to not spill any onto his fingers, he dabbed a few drops of the croton oil on a small piece of bread he pulled from his pocket.
He held the bread out to the squirrel, which gobbled it up eagerly. The killer straightened up. “It’ll be dead in fifteen minutes,” he said with a smile. “You should watch, it’s fascinating.” With that, he walked away. Tony listened until a squeak of metal hinges and the thud of a heavy door ended the sound of footsteps. His captor was gone.
Then his eyes wandered back to the box. Through the clear plastic, he could see the squirrel scurrying around in the box, clearly in distress. He watched as it started twisting its body into unnatural positions, glad that the lid blocked out most of what must have been whines of agony. After a while, the squirrel stopped its frantic movements and lay twitching in a corner. Then, finally, it was completely still. The squirrel was dead and Tony knew he was next.
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Author: Calliatra
Rating: FR15
Category: Gen
Pairing: None
Characters: Tony, the whole team
Genre: Casefile
Words: 2,424 (26,461 total)
Disclaimer: All recognizable NCIS characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: When a Petty Officer’s decapitated body is found it starts an investigation that spirals out of control and places Tony in grave danger.
Written for the Can Anybody Hear Me? Challenge and the Casefile Challenge at NFA and inspired by the Chinese Whisper Challenge.
Chapter Warnings: Cruelty to animals. To a lesser extent, cruelty to Tony.
Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine
* * *
Chapter Eight: A Frantic Search
Alone in cold blackness, Tony groaned as the memories came back to him. Lombard had gotten him, must have knocked him out, judging by the way his head felt. And now he was here, tied up and freezing in what he supposed was some sort of basement or dungeon. To his right, high up and out of reach, he could just make out the pale outline of a window. Through it, he could see a small piece of the navy blue sky. It was still night then. Or maybe he had been out longer than he thought, and it was night again? But no, that wasn’t possible. McGee knew he was in trouble, he would have sent help right away. Lombard must have moved him to… wherever the hell he was before it arrived, but it was only a matter of time before the team found him. He had faith in them. He had faith in Gibbs. Still, he couldn’t help but notice that he was lying tied up in the exact same position Thorne had been in when he was killed.
*
Gibbs paced up and down Autopsy. He was in a very irritable mood, and Palmer had already wisely fled the scene, leaving Ducky and Fornell behind to deal with him.
“Really, Jethro,” Ducky admonished, “I know you’re worried about Anthony, but you have to have faith in him. If he feels it is necessary to stay out of contact, I’m sure there’s an important reason for it.”
“DiNozzo’s a good agent,” Fornell agreed. “He can hold his own. For all we know the triumvirate might have a bug-proof room to discuss the details of the orders.”
But Gibbs shook his head. “No, it’s been an hour. That’s too long.” With that, he strode out, barely giving the sliding doors time to open, Fornell close on his heels.
“You think something went wrong after he cut the feed?” Fornell panted, trying to keep up as Gibbs took the stairs, not willing to wait for the elevator.
“Or maybe before.”
“Your gut telling you that? He did say he was going to cut the signal on purpose.”
They had reached Abby’s lab, and Gibbs stormed through the door without answering.
“McGee!” he bellowed.
“Yes, Boss?” Gibbs’ tone had McGee on alert instantly.
“What did Tony say?”
McGee was flustered. “Uh, nothing, Boss. He hasn’t turned the wire back on yet.”
“Before he cut it!”
“He said the code word, ‘blue’.”
Gibbs glared. “What exactly?”
“Uh, well, he said, ‘It’s the blue makeover.’”
“’The blue makeover?’”
“Yeah, he was kidding around. He’d been doing it all evening. Here, I can play it back for you.” McGee fumbled with a few buttons until Tony’s voice came from the loudspeakers, barely recognizable over the static.
“..It…he…blue…mike…over!” it crackled.
Fornell looked at the loudspeaker with unease. Something wasn’t right. Gibbs, however, stared at his youngest agent in horror. “McGee!” he yelled. “That’s not the code word! He’s saying ‘Shit, he blew my cover’!”
McGee paled, then pressed a button and spoke hastily into his headset. “Tony? Tony, can you hear me? Tony!” There was nothing.
“Boss, I’m so sorry, I should have realized-”
Gibbs couldn’t spare the time to be angry at McGee, or listen to his apology. He turned to confront Fornell. “I don’t give a damn about your warrant, I’m bringing them in!”
Fornell didn’t blink. “I’m coming with you.”
*
“NCIS!” Gibbs shouted at the same time as Fornell yelled “FBI!” Guns raised, they burst through the door of Abernathy’s dining room, with Ziva right behind them.
The table had been cleared, and the guests had all gone home. The only ones left were Abernathy, Dawson, and Lombard, sitting together at the head of the table and obviously startled out of a deep conversation by the federal agents so rudely storming into the room.
Abernathy was the first to get over the shock. He rose to confront the intruders into his home. “What is the meaning of this?”
Ziva pulled out handcuffs and began to fasten them on his wrists, but he backed away. “What do you think you’re doing?” He hissed.
“Joseph Abernathy, you’re under arrest for illegal wildlife trade,” Fornell said calmly, his weapon trained on the man.
“That’s ridiculous!” He tried to shake off Ziva’s grasp. “Keep those things away from me!”
Immediately, he found himself pinned against the dining table with his arms wrenched behind him. “Give me a reason!” she hissed in his ear. Abernathy tensed for a second, then seemed to come to his senses and slumped in defeat, letting her put the handcuffs on him without any further resistance.
At the table, Dawson and Lombard seemed to be shaking off their stunned stupor. Lombard slowly raised his hands when he saw Gibbs’ gun still pointed at them, but Dawson stood, trying to appear unintimidated. “Now wait just one moment,” he said. “You can’t just do that. We have rights!”
“You have the right to remain silent,” Fornell spoke by rote, laying handcuffs on him as Ziva did the same to Lombard. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
Dawson shook himself indignantly. “I know my rights! You will be hearing from my lawyer!”
“You can make the call from headquarters,” Fornell told him, and roughly pushed him towards the door.
“We’ve done nothing wrong,” Abernathy protested as Gibbs grabbed his arm. “Whatever you’re looking for, you’ve won’t find it.”
In one swift movement, Gibbs shoved him against the wall. “What did you do with my agent?” he growled.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Abernathy replied, only slightly shaken. “What agent?”
“Talley. He was here. What did you do to him?”
Something indefinable flashed across Abernathy’s face before he managed to resume his mask of calmness. “Nothing. He left, quite abruptly and without making his excuses. I thought it rather rude. So he was one of your men? I suppose that explains that. But why are you asking me where your man is? Have you misplaced him? I have to say, with the chaos that is today’s police force, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
Gibbs’ face was livid and his muscles flexed dangerously. Fornell came up next to him, tugging Dawson by the elbow, and laid a hand on Gibbs’ arm. “Jethro,” he whispered warningly.
Gibbs yanked Abernathy away from the wall with rather more force than was necessary and propelled him out into the hallway.
Just as they reached the front door, a swarm of FBI cars drew up. A young agent jumped out of the first car and rushed up to Fornell, handing him a piece of paper.
“Oh yeah,” Fornell said casually to Abernathy, holding up the paper, “we have a warrant to search your house.”
*
At one of the computers in Abby’s lab, McGee was desperately trying to find a way to trace Tony’s location.
“I can’t believe this,” he said. “Tony’s missing, he could be dead and it’s all my fault!”
“Don’t say that,” Abby cried. “Tony’s not dead, he can’t be! I mean, he’s Tony, he can protect himself!” She threw herself into McGee’s arms for a hug. “And it’s not your fault, Timmy. The static was really bad, I would have thought Tony was saying ‘blue,’ too.”
She suddenly straightened up before he could answer. “This isn’t helping! McGee, we have to find Tony!”
“I’m trying! But I can’t locate the wire when it’s not transmitting,” McGee said, miserably. “And it’s not. I checked the last position, but that was in the mansion, so that’s no help.”
“The traffic cams aren’t any help, either. There are just too many cars that area, anyone could have stuffed Tony in the trunk and driven to who knows where. But we have to do something!” Abby practically wailed.
*
In Interrogation, it was taking all of Gibbs’ self-restraint not to take a swing at the smug lawyer who had showed up instantaneously to defend Abernathy, despite the fact that it was well outside work hours.
“My agent was in your client’s house when he disappeared,” he growled. “And you’re telling me that he knows nothing about that?”
“As I have already told you,” the lawyer answered smoothly, “my client was not aware the man introduced to him as Gordon Talley was a federal agent. He was also under the impression that Mr. Talley left without notice once the guests had all assembled in the drawing room, and merely thought him rude.”
Gibbs fought the urge to slam his fist on the table in frustration. He really, really hated lawyers.
*
“He just left?” Fornell asked Dawson in the next room.
“My client saw Mr. Talley slipping out the door,” Dawson’s lawyer answered. “When he didn’t return my client assumed he had decided to leave.”
“Without his coat?”
“Perhaps he forgot it in his haste?” the lawyer suggested coolly.
*
“Tell me what you have done with my partner!” Ziva hissed at Lombard in the third interrogation room.
“I didn’t do anything to Talley,” he replied. “You can keep asking me that all night, my answer won’t change.”
Ziva clenched her fists and breathed deeply, telling herself that if she snapped his neck right now, he couldn’t tell her where Tony was.
*
“The phone!” McGee exclaimed suddenly. “Lombard’s phone! Abby, where is it?”
“Here,” she handed it to him. “It was just brought up. Why?”
“Tony said everything was on Lombard’s phone. Maybe there’s a clue to where they took him!” He attached it to one of the computers, and winced when he saw the screen. “This is really heavy encryption, it’s going to take me a while to crack it.”
“Tony might not have a while, McGee! Move over, I’ll help you. We’ve got to find him!”
*
Tony had no idea how much time had passed when he heard a metallic squeak coming from somewhere in the depths of the room. The window remained only slightly brighter than the total darkness around him, so at least he knew it was still night. The squeak was followed by footsteps obviously descending stairs. There was a click, and suddenly there was light, a single bulb hanging from a bunch of wires right above Tony, and while it was a weak bulb, the light was still too bright for his eyes, forcing them shut. When he opened them again he saw the dark silhouette of a man looming over him. He was broad-shouldered, but not particularly tall, and he seemed to have shaggy hair. Unless that part was due to Tony’s vision still being fuzzy. He blinked several times, trying to clear it.
“You’re awake.” The voice was rough, but somehow still kind of high. It gave Tony chills. “I was wondering when you’d open your eyes. I like to see their eyes, you know. It’s fascinating to see the life leave them.” He bent down and Tony flinched involuntarily. So this was the killer, and he had come to finish him off.
The man laughed, an unnatural giggle that made the hairs on Tony’s neck stand on end. “Don’t worry, it’s not your time yet. You’re going to be here for a bit longer.”
Tony said nothing.
“Todd won’t like it, of course,” the man said musing. “He said to make a quick job of it. Nothing fancy, just a few drops of this,” he held up a bottle identical to the one they had found in the boxes of smuggled wildlife. For a deadly poison, Tony thought blearily, the croton oil looked oddly innocuous.
“I shouldn’t make a mess, he said,” his captor continued. “No blood, no kidnapping, nothing that could leave evidence. But where’s the fun in that? What’s the point in slipping someone poison if you don’t even get to see them die?”
Now that his eyes had adjusted, Tony could make out the face looming above him. His captor had large blue eyes, a mouth that seemed to be stuck in a constant pout and a round, pink face. The only thing marring his eerily boyish appearance was the scraggly blond beard unevenly covering his chin, and the look of deranged fascination in his eyes. Tony suppressed a shudder. Leave it to the insane rich guys to hire a psycho killer instead of a straightforward hit man.
“Besides, Todd doesn’t know how good I’ve gotten. I’ve had a lot of time to practice, you see. I know exactly what’s going to happen to you. But I want you to know it, too, it’s more interesting that way. So let me show you.” He smiled in a way that chilled Tony more than the icy floor possibly could.
Suddenly the man stepped outside of Tony’s field of vision, and Tony heard some odd scuffling noises. When his captor stepped back into Tony’s view, he was carrying a clear plastic box about the size of normal moving box. He placed it next to Tony, and through the side, he could see there was a squirrel inside.
“They’re actually very dumb, you know,” the man said. “They’ll trust you if you just give them food often enough, they never wonder why you’re feeding them. And then they’re easy to catch. Look, it even trusts me now.” He held his hand into the box, and the squirrel showed no sign of fear. Withdrawing his hand, he carefully opened the small glass bottle. Then, with extreme care to not spill any onto his fingers, he dabbed a few drops of the croton oil on a small piece of bread he pulled from his pocket.
He held the bread out to the squirrel, which gobbled it up eagerly. The killer straightened up. “It’ll be dead in fifteen minutes,” he said with a smile. “You should watch, it’s fascinating.” With that, he walked away. Tony listened until a squeak of metal hinges and the thud of a heavy door ended the sound of footsteps. His captor was gone.
Then his eyes wandered back to the box. Through the clear plastic, he could see the squirrel scurrying around in the box, clearly in distress. He watched as it started twisting its body into unnatural positions, glad that the lid blocked out most of what must have been whines of agony. After a while, the squirrel stopped its frantic movements and lay twitching in a corner. Then, finally, it was completely still. The squirrel was dead and Tony knew he was next.
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