“I want him dead,” Junior said.
“I can understand that,” I said. “But what you want and what happens now are irrelevant. He works for me until I say he doesn’t work for me.”
This was a lot for Junior to consider. Probably more than he’d managed to ponder outside of solitary confinement, at least. At his feet was his main muscle. Behind him was the man he thought he was going to juice. And surrounding him were people telling him how his life was going to be for the foreseeable future. If he was smart, he’d agree to all I’d offered him. He’d make his money. He’d take his revenge-albeit more passively than he might want-and he’d secure the future of his organization. If he was stupid, he’d agree, and then an hour later he’d come back with fifty guys holding automatic weapons and kill us all. There was no gain in that now, really, which meant if he was truly bright, he’d kill us a year from now. Maybe two. Long enough away that we wouldn’t be expecting anything, as we’d all be happily in business together. Thirty years he’d waited. He could wait another one or two for the blood he wanted to spill.
“Fine.” He reached across the desk with his hand extended. “Let’s do this,” he said.
I took his hand and said, “This is my bond here. I’m good to my word. You be good to yours, and no one gets hurt, except Killa here.”
“He’ll heal,” Junior said.
We both laughed. Nothing like two homicidal maniacs agreeing that someone’s suffering was damn funny.
“One other thing,” I said, still holding on to him.
“Yeah?”
“You come within three feet of Father Eduardo,” I said, and then I gave him a good squeeze, and then another to make him wince, which was surprising, since he wasn’t a small man, “and I will kill you.”
“And if you touch any of my men again,” he said, and this time he returned the squeeze, “I will kill the girl.”
That was the wrong thing to say.
Fiona cracked the whip around Junior’s neck and yanked him toward her with a quick flourish of her wrist. He was at least a foot taller than she, but at that moment, it didn’t really matter, since he couldn’t breathe.
“I’m sorry,” Fiona said, “I didn’t hear you.”
Junior let out a series of gurgles and gasps.
“Uh, honey,” I said.
“Yes, darling,” she said.
“If you’re going to kill him,” I said, “could you do it outside? It wouldn’t be right to do it in the father’s chambers.”
Junior was scratching at the whip around his throat and gurgling even more. He had a good couple seconds of breath left before he passed out. Interestingly, Killa hadn’t even bothered to move. Morale, it seemed, was low.
“I guess I won’t, then,” she said, “out of respect for Father Eduardo, and in light of our new business relationship.”
She flicked her wrist again and, just like Barry, Junior spun out of the whip and then ended up on the floor beside Killa. I got up from the desk and walked around to where they both were and talked very calmly to Junior.
“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that making threats to me isn’t a good idea,” I said. “I’ll have an office ready for you tomorrow. Can we expect to see you here at nine A.M.?”
He didn’t say anything. There was a chance Fiona might have done some damage to his windpipe.
“Noon would be fine, too,” I said, “If maybe you need to see a physician between then and now.”
Nothing.
“Make it two. But no later. I know how hard it is to get in to see a doctor on my HMO, so I understand where you’re coming from. I’m going to go ahead with our mutual friend Barry here and see about getting you some decent plates to run from. Does that sound good?”
Again, nothing. Junior had tears in his eyes, which was nice to see. It’s an involuntary thing when you’re being choked, but it was still a pleasant reminder that he was human.
“And if you don’t mind,” I said, “it would be nice to get five guys tomorrow, too. I have a job I’d like to get started on.”
Junior coughed, hacked out a clump of pink saliva and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The tears in his eyes were gone. All that was there was rage. This was not a man used to being beaten; certainly not a man used to being whipped, literally, by a woman. I think maybe his morale was low, too.
“Girl,” he rasped, but then thought better of his choice to speak when he began coughing and gagging. Better all the way around, really.
“Well, you two have a nice day, now,” I said. I gave Sam a look, and he got up and yanked both men up by their collars, which didn’t seem to make either of them very happy, not since Killa couldn’t really put any weight on his knee and Junior was having an issue with his throat, and pushed them toward the open door.
They both stumbled at first and then seemed to gain a bit of purchase after they bounced off each other and found their balance.
“You don’t ever disrespect me like that,” Junior said, though it was hard to hear him. It’s hard to sound threatening when air keeps whistling out of your throat.
“I just did,” I said.
“Never again,” he said.
“Fine, fine,” I said.
“And keep her away from me,” he said.
“Can’t promise that,” I said.
The issue Junior Gonzalez was having, other than with breathing, was that no one ever talked back to him. He simply wasn’t made to take orders.
“Tomorrow,” he said.
“Tomorrow,” I said.
All of us watched Junior and Killa drag themselves down the hallway. They looked like wild horses that had been broken. When they reached the front door, Killa looked back at us and held Father Eduardo’s gaze for a few seconds before he shuffled back out into the daylight.
“That went well,” Sam said.
“You think so?” Barry said. “Because I’m covered with blood over here. And, Michael, you didn’t mention anything to me about Fiona wrapping a whip around my throat or cutting me. That was not part of any form of discussion you and I had, Michael, and I’d like you to know that I found both experiences… to put it mildly… upsetting.”
“You loved it,” Fiona said.
“A part of me enjoyed it,” Barry said.
Father Eduardo took his rightful seat behind his desk and dropped his head into his hands.
“Guys,” I said, “can you leave us alone for a minute?”
“Sure, Mikey,” Sam said. “We’ll get Barry cleaned up in the bathroom. And then maybe, Fi, you can show me that little trick with the whip?”
“Why don’t you try something proactive,” I said, “like bugging that empty office next door? Get it ready for Junior’s occupancy.”
When they were gone, I sat down across from Father Eduardo, in the same chair Killa was in prior to my destroying his knee. “I know what I’m doing, Father,” I said.
“I know,” he said. “I know. Ernie, he told me you might make it look like I’m in an impossible situation, but that you would be in control. I just… to see my brother that way. It was hard.”
“I had to show them that I have no fear,” I said.
“No, not that. That I understand. To see him subservient to Junior. To see him give up his own son to him. It made me sick. That’s me there, Michael. That’s what I used to do. I may not have killed directly, but I put that fear of suffering into other people. I have to make that right.”
“You are. Right here.”
“There’s more. There has to be.”
“We’ll figure that out,” I said. “In the meantime, it’s business as usual here. We’ll clear the storeroom next to your office and put Junior in there. We’ll give him a computer and a phone and all of the bugging devices money can buy.”
“How long will he be here?”
I had to think about that. “Two days, if everything goes according to my plan. If he’s still here by the end of the week, that just means we’ve both been murdered.”
Father Eduardo looked stricken.
“Kidding,” I said.
“He’ll come for you,” Father Eduardo said. “That’s his nature.”