Warning: the following story contains strong language and profanity.
Carlos Agape, bagman for the Batangas Cartel, sat on the high-backed wooden chair, his hands held down with leather straps on its arm rests. A slime of drool and vomit trailed down from the corner of his open mouth to his neck. His head was tilted back and his breathing was shallow.
“God, that took a while, but it was worth it,” Jose said with a yawn and pushed himself away from the desk. The desk was littered with notebooks and spreadsheets. On one side was the tape recorder, still running; on the other was the medical bag with vials of sodium pentathol and syringes.
“Pretty risky move back there,” Bert said, “That triple dose almost killed him.”
“Carlos was always a tough bastard, but we cracked him, alright. This is going to bust the cartel wide open.”
“And I’m glad for that. Now I can finally get home, and you should, too. Margot is going to give you hell. Say, my watch is broken. What time is it anyway?”
“Th-reee fort-eee threee….”
Bert and Jose looked at each other, and then at Carlos. The answer had come as a low moan, yet still distinct, from the prisoner.
Jose glanced at his watch and his eyebrows shot up. “I’ll be damned, the son-of-a-bitch is right. Down to the minute.”
“That’s not possible. It’s got to be a lucky guess.”
Jose chuckled. “Hey, Carlos is still an answering mood. Carlos: what else can you tell us?”
The hair on Bert’s neck and arms stood on end. “This is bullshit! The man’s delirious.”
“Hold on, this is getting interesting. Carlos: what’s the capital of Myanmar?”
“Holy crap, that’s right,” Jose said. In answer to Bert’s quizzical glance, he explained: “I’ve been helping my son with his homework.”
“I still call bullshit. Ask him something only I would know.”
Jose shrugged. “Carlos: what was the name of Bert’s first pet?”
“God-damn! How could he know that? It’s been forty years! Only I should know that!”
“Shit! We have a fucking oracle right here. Want to have a go?”
“Fuck you, Jose. This is not something we should be messing with. Let’s get out of here.”
“Just one more, man. Carlos: who is Bert banging now?”
“Don’t answer that!” Bert shrieked. He struck Carlos across the face and the force tipped over the high-backed chair. Carlos fell and twisted his neck with a crack. Still, with his dying moan the answer came, clear and unmistakable.
Bert stared at Jose in horror and fumbled for his sidearm, but Jose already had his weapon out.