Punisher The Official Novelization of the Film

I will not scream, Micky Duka told himself. I will not beg, nor will I cry. I will reason with Castle, I will talk to him mano a mano, I will tell him what I know, which is not much, and I will subtly work in references to our previous association, the hash in Amsterdam, the young ladies in St. Pete (though he frowned at that, not being able to remember just that second if Ottono Castlehad stuck around to enjoy those young ladies or not), the Fourth of July picnic on that yacht Loopy rentedand he will acknowledge my honest efforts to help him, and he will cut me down, and we will say good-bye. Except the second Castle spoke, the second Micky heard that I-don't-give-a-fuck tone in the man's voice, he got a bad feeling in his stomach. An I-think-I'm-gonna-be-sick, oh-God-I-don't-want-to-die kind of feeling. "Stay away from me, OttoCastlewhoever you are! I've got friends, you know!" "Oh, I know." Castle's chair rolled even closer, then stopped. Metal hinges creaked, and Micky saw Castle was reaching inside somethinga cabinet of some kind. For a brief second, light from within illuminated his face. Duka caught a glimpse of a long, nasty scar along one side of the man's face before the cabinet shut and the darkness swallowed Castle again. "That's why you're here. Let's talk about your friends, Micky." "Make your own friends, buddy! You're nuts, okay? Kidnapping me like thisI mean, that's against the law, you know. Aren't you the law?" Castle ignored his question. "Sorry you feel that way about me, Mick," Castle said in that same creepy monotone. "But let's talk about it, why don't we?" Castle's chair rolled into the circle of light surrounding Micky then, and Duka saw the scar again. It was really more of a burn, running all down one side of his face. The skin looked red, raw, and painfulhe couldn't imagine how it had looked, or felt, back when he'd first gotten it. Then there was the hairFrank Castle black, not the Otto Krieg brown. It was thinner, too, just like the man himself. Castle had lost a lot of weighttoo much, Micky thought. He didn't look healthy. Just skin and bones. And the look in his eyes . . . "Come on, man. Just leave me alone, okay?" His voice, Duka was ashamed to realize, was shaking. Castle rose slowly from his chair, ignoring Micky again, and moved closer. He was holding something in his hands; Duka tried to twist his body so he could see what it was, but failed. "Question." Castle leaned into his face. "Who gave me up?" "I don't know, I swear." Castle grabbed him by the hair and yanked. "Ow!" "You don't help me," Castle said. "And I'll kill you now." The man yanked even hardertears came to Micky's eyes as Castle pulled his head up higher, till the two of them were literally face-to-face. "Who gave me up?" "I swear," Micky said. "On the Bible, on my father's grave, I don't know. The Saints tell me nothing." "Nothing." Castle shook his head. "They pay your rent, your legal bills . . . you should know something." He let Micky go then. Duka swung like a pendulum for a second, then came to rest. Then he saw what Castle had beStern, D. A. is the author of 'Punisher The Official Novelization of the Film', published 2004 under ISBN 9780345475565 and ISBN 0345475569.