Page 42 of Lay It Bare

Getting Kramer down the broken staircase was a chore. He wasn’t just uncooperative, he was actively antagonistic. Sevastyan dragged him down the last set of stairs, his patience burned up. Ellisandre went first, getting the plywood out of the window and opening the doors to the van.

Sevastyan threw Kramer inside with satisfaction and watched him slide across the empty back only to slam into the barrier behind the back seats. Muffled groans and attempts at complaints gurgled. Ellisandre shut the doors.

It only took a few minutes to use a different exit, stow away the night vision goggles and stroll up to the van from the alley, get in the front seat, and drive away. Ellisandre had the driver’s seat again. Sevastyan kept an eye on their captive through the grate to the back. Kramer was curled up in a fetal position, sliding back and forth as the van rattled over potholes and took turns.

The next part of the operation would be the most difficult. Ellisandre had procured the schematics of the police station, though it was unknown how many small changes had gone into place over the years. The police station was in its original building, again red brick and two stories high. They were going to go in through the roof, enter via an upper-level service hatch, and then came the fun part. If they had to, they’d leave Kramer right there. But if the hallways were empty, they would leave him in an office space or bull pen area. The holding cells were on the first floor in the back. Detective offices and the police chief’s suite were at the top of the internal staircase. Ostensibly.

“You only brought me for my muscles,” Sevastyan muttered to Ellisandre in French.

They chuckled and answered in the same language. “Hm . . . yes. Delicious.”

Sevastyan laughed.

Getting Kramer to the roof without being seen required approaching from one particular angle on foot and staying low, behind some conveniently placed obstacles. To give Sevastyan cover, Ellisandre was going to drive the van past. But first Sevastyan had to get Kramer strapped to his back. Ellisandre and Sevastyan climbed into the rear portion of the van and broke out the duct tape in preparation. Kramer glared at them. He was on his back, somewhat turned on his side with his arms behind him.

Ellisandre grabbed Kramer’s foot and pulled him towards them, starting to wrap tape around the man’s mid-calf. Sevastyan pinned Kramer’s upper body and removed the cuffs, getting his hands in front of him and re-cuffing him. While Ellisandre finished with Kramer’s legs, Sevastyan got started with cutting off his coat and taping his upper arms to his sides.

After a quarter hour, Kramer looked like a discount mummy, arms taped down alongside his ribs, hands wrapped so that they couldn’t be used to free himself.

Ellisandre crouched over Kramer and turned on a low light. They waved a copy of the arrest warrant in his face. It was laminated. “I’m sure you know what you’re here for.”

Kramer glared at Ellisandre’s covered face. He’d long since ceased complaining. He seemed more petrified than anything else.

Ellisandre pulled out heavy scissors. “Glad I’m wearing gloves. I’m going to burn them after this.”

“Burning all these clothes,” Sevastyan snarked.

Ellisandre cut open the front of Kramer’s pants and fished out the man’s ugly, shriveled penis. Kramer flopped like a fish, trying to get away. Sevastyan held him down.

“This is less than you deserve,” Ellisandre said. They picked up a medical stapler and waved it in Kramer’s face, clicking it and letting him see what sort of tool it was. The man screamed behind the muzzle, his hips dancing against the floor, trying to pull his bits away from Ellisandre’s hands.

Ellisandre sniffed in derision. They pressed the laminated paper against Kramer’s limp dick, stretching the fleshy organ out for surface area and thinness. Kramer bucked. Sevastyan reared up, putting his knee down on the man’s hip. Ellisandre pinned Kramer’s thighs. They pressed the stapler against the top of the warrant and pulled the trigger.

Kramer’s back arched. A muffled roar tried to get out of his throat.

Sevastyan rode out the thrashing. “I don’t think one staple will be enough.”

“Good point.” Ellisandre added three more, one after the other, following the line of Kramer’s dick behind the warrant.

Kramer keened, his entire body pulsating.

“His ID is right there, on the floor.” Sevastyan gestured towards the beat up black leather object he’d saved from the coat he had cut off their captive.

“Idiot.” Ellisandre opened the leather folds and fished the piece of plastic out. “You do the honors.”

Ellisandre moved to keep Kramer down. Sevastyan took the stapler in one gloved hand and the ID in his other. Kramer’s eyes rolled in his head in fear. “Any particular place?”

“Surprise me,” Ellisandre shrugged.

Sevastyan pushed Kramer’s head to the side and pinched the filth’s ear together with the ID. He stapled them. Twice.

Kramer’s jerks were weaker this time. He had to be rolling in fear, dropping from adrenaline towards despair by now.

“Anything else?”

“If you have an idea, please yourself. Heavy snow should start any minute. We can head out once it starts,” Ellisandre replied.

It was disgusting, but the best way to get Kramer to the roof was to strap him to Sevastyan’s back and then cover him with a giant coat. Sevastyan stripped out of the coat that fit and lay down so Ellisandre could strap their whimpering cargo to Sevastyan’s back. He got up on his hands and knees and Ellisandre helped him into the coat, hiding Kramer from sight. By then the snow was coming down in sheets. Ellisandre jumped out of the van and gave the all clear. Sevastyan crawled out after.