I need to get my stuff packed to go. Just a backpack with a few clothes
& an extra knife & a spare gun in it. In my pants pockets
I have a pistol & a buck knife. In my jacket pockets I have another
handgun & a set of brass knuckles & $120,000 cash. The air
in the warehouse where I’m waiting for the guy who’s smuggling me out is
stale & stagnant. It feels like the only way the dirt in the
air is cleaned out is by making deposits in my lungs as I breathe.
& I’m starting to wonder if the air is poisoned & it’s all just
a scheme to kill people for money.
When the guy finally shows up,
he’s in his late forties & slightly overweight & wearing a suit
like a film noir gangster. I’ve never dealt with anyone who was a
genuine organized criminal type instead of just somebody out for a little
“You Eric?” He asks.
“You got the hundred thousand?”
“Let me see it kid.”
I reach in to my pocket &
I hear a gun cock & I see a twenty-five year old guy in an identical
suit with a gun trained on me step into the room. The first guy steps
in front of the gunman & says to him, “Relax. This Eric seems
like a good kid.” He turns to me & says, “You’re a good kid,
I just nod my head.
“Let’s se the money.”
I pull out the $100,000 (I separated
it from the extra $20,000 before I came) & hand it to him.
“You’re, what, twenty years
old & were able to get this money? You remind me of myself, kid,
so I’ll tell you what; I’ll actually send you out. Normally I get
these old fat bastards abandoning their families. I kill them &
sell their organs & give half their money back to their wives.
But you’re young & thin enough & maybe even smart enough to make
it. Follow me.”
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