Kill the King (9 page)

Finch
frantically scrambled to escape the car. His face and eyes were
covered in splattered blood and it made it hard for him to see
anything. Just as Finch managed to find the latch and unlock the
door, Tyler jammed the knife into his thigh. Finch squealed like a
stuck pig. Tyler twisted the blade back and forth to open a gaping
wound.

“Where do you
think
you’re
going? We’re just getting started!”

Tyler yanked
the knife out and wiped his wet blade on the kid’s silk necktie.
Finch panted and trembled in fear.

Khaled opened
up the passenger door and helped Tyler get out of the car. He then
poked his head in and examined the chaos inside before locking eyes
with Finch. He shook his head in almost sympathetic
disapproval.

“You brought
your friend to drive you around like this, up and down
Kibera
in a fancy car? Oh no. That was a big mistake, my
friend.”

Finch hung his
head low, afraid of what was in store for him. Many big mistakes
had been made indeed, and it was too late to erase them. He
understood that Tyler wasn’t lying when he said that they were just
getting started.

Tyler took off
his stained jacket and handed it to Khaled. “Wrap this around his
leg before you pull him out. I’ll make room in the trunk for
him.”

“What about the
driver?”

Tyler shrugged.
“It’s Kibera’s problem.”

****

The makeshift
tourniquet had worked well enough to quell the bleeding but they
still had to cauterize the wound anyways, using a large spoon and a
lighter. Finch did not take the procedure well; he slipped in and
out of consciousness a few times during the repeated burnings. He
needed to be kept alive and lucid. Khaled had bound Finch to a
wooden chair and tied a torn piece of cloth around his mouth.

While Khaled
busied himself with setting up the interrogation, Tyler searched
Finch’s basement apartment high and low. The furniture had been cut
up, the dirty mattress overturned, and every drawer and cabinet
emptied. When Tyler finished rummaging around he returned to the
kitchen where Khaled and Finch were waiting for him. He had a large
duffel bag slung over his shoulder and placed it on the table
adjacent to the tied-up Finch before sifting through its
contents.

“Well, you did
a pretty good job at hiding the merch you stole from us. Let me
see. . .a few keys of coke over here, a few keys of very high grade
heroin over there, a bit of hash, some pipes and syringes, and a
shitload of meth. I think that’s everything. What do you think,
Finch?”

Tyler plopped
the bag on Finch’s lap and prodded him to take a look inside.
Quivering, Finch looked into the bag and nodded. Khaled sighed in
disappointment and Tyler furrowed his brow.

“No, Finch.
That’s the wrong answer. You had more than this in your possession
before we caught you. . .much more than this, I suspect. You
weren’t given that car as a gift. So. . .where’s the
money?”

Finch kept his
eyes fixed on the tile floor. “I don’t have any money. I spent it
all on the car. Please, you have to believe me. . .”

Tyler angrily
bolted out of the kitchen and came back with a tool box. He slammed
it on the floor and pulled out a hammer. Khaled grabbed Finch’s
left hand through the restraints and held it down on the kitchen
table.

The thumb was
the first casualty. Finch’s screams were muffled by the gag that
was jammed between his teeth. It gave his face an odd grin.

“We don’t have
time for this shit, kid. Don’t think you can play us for fools.
Even if you sold our shit at rock bottom, you’d still have enough
cash to buy three of those fucking cars and
still
have some
spare change left. I’m going to ask you again:
where’s the
money, Finch?”

Khaled removed
the gag off Finch’s mouth. “I swear! I don’t have any money!
Please. . .please! I swear I don’t have anything! Pl—”

Khaled put the
gag back on and held down Finch’s hand again. The index finger was
the next to get crushed. Finch shook so hard from the blow, Khaled
had trouble holding his hand down for the middle finger. The hammer
came crashing down on that one in due time. Finch gagged and choked
between stifled screams.

“That’s three
down and two more to go. If you still don’t give me the right
answer by then, I’ll have to reach into the toolbox and get a bit
more creative. I’ve got some pliers in here to help loosen your
tongue if you can’t do it yourself. Khaled can also remove some
teeth if that will help jog your memory. Maybe we’ll just skip that
shit altogether and start sawing off body parts. Do you see where
I’m getting at, Finch? Are you starting to understand me? The more
you waste our time, the worse this will get for you. We don’t have
all fucking day, and you’re running out of fingers. So what’s it
gonna be, kid? Am I going to have to get creative with you?”

Tyler and
Khaled waited for Finch to speak. With what little voice he had
left from all the screaming, Finch whispered something inaudible to
the floor tiles.

Khaled let go
of the boy’s hand and crouched beside him. He patted him firmly on
the back, prodding him to repeat. Finch whispered it again into
Khaled’s ear.

“He said the
money’s in the fridge.”

Tyler put the
hammer down on the table and made his way over to the fridge. He
hesitated before opening, unsure if this could be a ruse. He opened
it slowly and noticed nothing inside but a six-pack of beer, a
carton of milk, a large cooler, and a dozen paper bags.

“Khaled, plug
in the soldering iron. If he’s fucking with us again, burn his
dickhole shut.”

****

It took longer
than expected to gather up all the cash Finch had stashed away. He
was indeed being truthful about the fridge, though the bags didn’t
contain all the money. The small butter compartment and the
vegetable crisper drawer had huge bricks of cold cash hiding in
them. Even the ice tray hid a sealed bag stuffed with bills. To be
extra sure that nothing got hidden deeper inside, Khaled took the
fridge apart while Tyler tallied up the total amount of money
collected so far.

“So. . .that’s
a bit under five hundred grand. Hiding it in the fridge was not a
bad idea, I’ll give you that. I just wish you’d told us right away.
It would have saved you a lot of trouble, kid.”

Tyler cracked
open his fourth can of beer but opted to give it to Finch instead.
He gently pressed it to his lips for him, as Finch remained bound
to his chair. The boy finished it quickly and nodded wordlessly in
gratitude.

“Khaled, did
you find anything else?”

The large man
wiped beads of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hands,
unknowingly staining his face with a few streaks of black grease.
He shook his head and motioned for a beer thrown his way.

“Nothing.”

Tyler tossed a
beer in Khaled’s direction. “Okay, that’s good enough for me.”

Satisfied, he
began to stuff the bills in a different duffel bag and then pulled
out his switchblade. The boy quivered at the sight of it.

“Relax. I’m
going to cut you loose. Stay still in the chair, and don’t get up
until after we’ve left. After that, you’ve got an hour to get your
ass out of town. Leave everything here as it is, and don’t tell
anyone
about what happened today. I’ve already paid off your
landlord and he’ll call me if you’re still here by sundown. . .if
that happens,
we will find you.
Are we clear on all
this?”

Finch nodded,
whimpering slightly. Tyler cut the gag around his mouth, then the
restraints around his arms and legs. Khaled approached the table
and grabbed both heavy bags with one hand while still using the
other one to finish his beer. Before heading out the door, Khaled
pointed at the large cooler that lay forgotten on the floor. Tyler
picked up the heavy box and plopped it on the table.

“Shit, I forgot
about the cooler. Don’t head outside with the bags just yet. There
might be some more shit in here.”

Finch’s legs
began to twitch. “Can. . .can I leave now?”

Tyler shot back
an annoyed look. “I have to open this cooler first. Then you can
get out of here. ”

Finch’s eyes
darted from side to side. Tyler opened the cooler, and his jaw
dropped at the sight of what was to be found inside.

“What the
fuck
is this? Is this. . .is this
blood?
Khaled, come
see this!”

Finch made a
desperate sprint out the kitchen, only to collide head-first into
the big man’s iron chest. The boy fell to his knees and bawled
uncontrollably, pleading for his life.

“Please. . .I’m
so sorry. Please don’t kill me. Please don’t. No! No! No! N—”

Khaled’s
massive hands clutched Finch’s throat and lifted him high off the
ground. The boy’s feet danced in the air as Khaled tightened his
grip. His face turned into a mess of purple and blue and his eyes
shot up with blood as he struggled to breathe. There was no
escaping Khaled’s crushing grip. It only took him a few more
seconds to snap the boy’s neck. Khaled dropped the lifeless body
head-first, making an ugly thud on the thinly-carpeted floor. Tyler
was deeply upset by the sudden turn of events.

“Goddamn it,
Khaled! That wasn’t fucking necessary.”

Khaled
shrugged. “It’s better this way. . .he’d never keep his mouth shut.
We’d have to trace him again and finish him. You know this.”

“I wanted to
ask him about the cooler.”

“What, that
thing? Who cares about a fucking cooler?”

“That’s because
you didn’t see what’s
inside
the cooler, Khaled—
I
did.
There’s got to be a dozen red bags in there, all marked WB
or RBC, and with another label of either A, B, or O tacked on as
well. There are also a few bags of yellow shit with FFP labelled on
them too. Now, I’m not a fucking doctor, but they sure as shit look
like blood bags to me.”

Khaled’s face
went pale. “Ugh. That’s gross, my friend. I don’t want to hear
about that shit.”

“Yeah, well,
I do.
He could have been doing something with it on his own.
He could have been holding on to it for someone else. The Fourteens
may be up to something we don’t yet know about, but now it’s too
late because you’re a dumb fucking sheik. Goddamn it!”

Khaled put his
hands in his jacket pockets and sulked. “Alright. I’m sorry,
okay?”

“Forget it. Now
we have to get rid of the body. Give Cabrini a call and tell him
he’s needed right away, and see if Greene can give him a hand. This
dump needs to be cleaned. You don’t fucking leave until they’re
done, you hear me? Now, give me your goddamn keys. I need your
car.”

Khaled grimaced
but did not protest. “Where you gonna go, my friend?”

Tyler packed a
few large bills in his jacket pocket before grabbing both large
duffel bags. “I’m going to have to pay off the landlord again to
keep his mouth shut, and then I’m bringing this shit back to Marko.
I’ll tell him we’ve recovered the leftover merch and nothing more.
No need to tell him we had to squeeze Finch for the info, and we’re
definitely
not telling him we had to call for the cleaners.
Marko will get upset if he were to find out. That’s just between
you and me and the cleaners. You got that, Khaled?”

Tyler didn’t
need a reply. Khaled knew who gave the orders between them.

****

It didn’t take
the runners long to make it to Tyler’s apartment. Both were young
and unknown to him, but this didn’t bother him. From the looks of
it, his reputation preceded him quite nicely. They both stood at
attention and listened to him carefully, not asking any unnecessary
questions. He dropped the two heavy bags at their feet. A small
knapsack was presented as well.

“This large bag
over here contains four keys of cocaine, six keys of pure heroin,
and twenty vials of meth. The other bag contains exactly three
hundred thousand dollars. You are not to open either bag at any
time. . .you’re going to deliver both of these bags to Artan
immediately. If the contents of these bags don’t
exactly
match what I’ve just described by the time you see Artan, both of
you will be held responsible. Any questions?”

The two
delivery boys glanced at each other nervously before shaking their
heads.

“You didn’t ask
about the third bag I have here. Good. That means you’re not greedy
little shits. You can be trusted with this delivery job. Inside
this knapsack you’ll find eight vials of meth, some pipes and
syringes, and a pound of hash. That’s my gift to you. Keep it or
sell it—that’s up to you. Just be sure you don’t sell it anywhere
near the Fourteens and stay away from Kibera. You boys aren’t going
to fuck this up, right?”

“No sir,” they
said in unison.

Tyler was
content and dismissed them with a backhanded wave. The runners
picked up the bags and left in a hurry.

Tyler lit a
cigarette and sat down on his sofa. It felt as hard as a concrete,
only marginally softer than his old cot back in the Block. In the
past this would have caused him great discomfort, though this time
it felt oddly reassuring. Lying on cushions stuffed with a quarter
million dollars will do that to a man.

Sorry, boys. .
.it’s you or me. Enjoy the dope while you can.

Tyler was just
about to pour himself a drink when his phone began to buzz in his
jacket pocket. It was a text message from Khaled.

Get cleaned. Picking
you up. Family meeting tonight.

The last three
words unsettled Tyler. If Boreta called for a Family meeting, it
wasn’t for exchanging pleasantries. Something was up and it wasn’t
going to be good.

There was no
time to figure out whether Boreta may have figured him out. Khaled
was already knocking on his door and fumbling for the keys again.
He must have sent the message the moment he entered the
building.