Twisted City (17 page)

“Everything
is in order, sir,” the general tells his superior.

A
sickle shaped smile touched with wicked delight forms on Vincent’s face.
“Excellent,” he says.

“My
only concern is the boy. What if he doesn’t hold up his end of the deal? He could
have told them what our plans are. We could be walking right into a trap.” The
general’s scarred face twists with anger. The plan is perfect but he doesn’t
trust the boy. He never did trust the boy, not since the first time he saw him
.

“Oh,
he’ll do what’s expected of him,” Vincent assures his general with such
confidence that it
smooths
the creases in the
general’s face.
“If he ever wants to see his precious Jizell
and his BFF, Tank, in one piece again.”

With
that said, Jacko, pleased with his current assignment, brings the madam-doctor
into the room, handling her roughly by the arms. Her clothes are disheveled as
if she’s worn them and slept in them for several days. Her face is pale with
dark hollows pooled under her bloodshot eyes. Another henchman comes in after
them, hauling in a distraught Tank with a fresh black eye and busted lip.

  Vincent
goes to Jizell and carries a hand up to her face (his right hand. His left hand
is practically healed and he now wears a glove with the last two fingers cut
off and sewn together) and brushes the back of his fingers across her cheek.

She
snaps her head away as if touched by something filthy, which to her is exactly
what happened.

“Easy
there, sweets. You have nothing to worry about as long as your little Mongoose
honors his end of the deal. And then the two of you,” Vincent then regards the
old man barely able to stand on his own two feet next to her, “well, the three
of you, can run off and live happily ever after just as I’ve promised.” Vincent
snatches Jizell by the face, his voice lowers and deepens with dread as he
says, “But if he doesn’t honor his end of the deal then he can scrape little
pieces of your body off the floor.
Starting with those pretty
titties
.”

“Go
to hell!” Jizell manages to hiss out between clinched teeth.

Vincent
laughs. “Yes indeed. Yes indeed I will. And you better hope to have the
privilege of licking the fire at my feet when I arrive.”

Vincent
turns back to his general and the few others who are there. “The boy knows
what’s at stake, he’ll not renege. He loves this little whore too much not to
do it.” He returns his attention back to Jizell. “You must’ve thrown it on him
pretty damn good, huh.”

Jizell struggles against the hold
Jacko has
on her,
cursing Vincent, desperate to claw his face.

“
Ooo
, feisty, aren’t we?” Vincent jests. “Jacko, take her to
my room and tie her to my bed. She’s talked me into
it,
I’m suddenly in the mood. Keep it up,
sweets,
I’ll be
there in a bit. Hell, you might get lucky and I’ll invite everyone here to run
a train on you.”

Everyone
laughs and nods their approval.

Before
leaving the room, Vincent says to his general, “Tell everyone to prepare. We
leave at dawn.”

The
vehicle is finished. It now looks like a stronger version of its original
model.
An SUV on steroids.
And even though Lathan is
aware of what exactly has been done to the SUV and what power the engine holds
within and its capabilities, Loak still finds it necessary to explain
everything in detail anyway. More so that he can hear his own self-praise for
the creation he has expertly built into existence. As he goes on with the
oration he regards the SUV in such awe as if it is the greatest thing he’s ever
built. Everyone humors him with his starry eyed moment.

After
a moment of silence Lathan says, “I brought something for everyone.” He reaches
into a big bag and pulls out a huge bottle of champagne.

“Ah,
some bubbly,” Nick says with a toothy smile.

“For
starters,” Lathan says.

Loak
retrieves five cups and gives one to each man. When he hands one to his son the
boy looks up at his dad as if to say,
Really
?

“Do
not tell your mother. She will have my hide if she finds out. This is just
between us men, okay?”

A
broad smile sprouts on Matthew’s face. “Okay dad.”

Lathan
pops the cork and a sharp tongue of vapor licks the air outside the bottles
mouth. Each is poured half a cup and then Lathan raises his up in a toast.
“To life.”

“To
life,” the other four say in unison. They down their cups. Matthew makes a weird
face and his dad laughs at him.

“What’s
wrong son? Got a bite to it?”

“Tingles,”
Matthew replies.

Loak
puts his cup out to Lathan and says, “One more. But just a drop for you,” he
says to his son. “I can’t be bringing you home tipsy.”

Lathan
replenishes each cup except for Matthew’s, he fills his only a tenth of the
way.

Loak
raises his cup and the others follow suit. Loak’s gaze encompasses Lathan.

“To Lathan.
For giving me, us, an opportunity to
remember what it was once like. Thank you.”

They
drank.

Afterward,
Lathan goes back into his big bag and pulls out a gift for each man; a pint of
good bourbon for each, but for Matthew he gives a pocket knife.

“Wow!”
Matthew’s eyes light up.

“Be
careful with it,” Lathan cautions the boy. “It’s very sharp.”

“What
do you say, son, “Loak says.

 “
Thank you, thank you, thank
you,” Matthew says as he throws
his arms around his idol’s waist.

“I
wish I could do more, but . . .”

“More?”
Kent says, perplexed.
“For what?
I’ve enjoyed every
single minute of this. For me, the reward was being able to be a part of it.”

Lathan
puts down the huge bottle of champagne on a table and each man shakes Lathan’s
hand followed by a hug. On the sly Nick seizes the bottle. He plugs its top
with his thumb and shakes it vigorously. Aiming it toward Lathan and Loak, he
moves his thumb slightly and sprays the two with fizzy jets of champagne.

They
nearly stumble over each other trying to run from the champagne assault, taking
turns shuffling behind one another, blocking the spray with their hands, until
Loak grabs hold of little Matthew, lifts him up and uses him as a human shield,
and Matthew is only too happy to oblige, holding his mouth wide open to try and
catch as much of the champagne’s jet stream as he can.

Having
enough, both men team up on Nick, yanking the bottle from his grasp and pouring
it on top of his head, drenching him. Kent and Matthew get in on the action by
helping to hold Nick down while the other two execute their revenge. Everyone
laughs until it hurts.

The
goodbyes are the hardest. Not only is it goodbye to the grease and the tools
and the nuts and the bolts, knowing there may never be another time like this,
but, it is also goodbye to Lathan. Even though he’s never mentioned it everyone
suspects that Lathan will
  leave
soon after the
completion of the vehicle. Why else does a man want something like this done,
because it surely isn’t something he will be cruising around town
in.

And
so they bid their first farewells.

After
everyone is gone Lathan loads his bags into his newly modified Battle Durango,
as everyone has dubbed it. There is a secret compartment within the inside
floor of the truck that Loak made. It is done exactly how Lathan asked him to
do it. Lathan opens it and slips the briefcase inside and closes it back up.

He
will leave tomorrow.

As
for tonight, he will spend it with only one person, who is now waiting for him
upstairs.

He
watches. He watches as they finish the final touches on the vehicle.

He
watches as they spray each other with champagne and laugh and have a good ole
time like a bunch of blithering idiots.

He
watches as everyone but Lathan leaves.

He
watches as Lathan loads bag after bag into the vehicle, and then he watches as
Lathan puts the briefcase into the floor of the vehicle, inside a secret
compartment.

Interesting.

He
followed Lathan to the old bank building and watched with fascination as he
came back out with that briefcase, carrying it as though whatever it contained
was something of great importance as he made a beeline back to his own
building. He also noticed something else very interesting that day; someone
else followed him too. He recognized him as one of Grant’s goons. But why is he
having him followed? Does Grant suspect something?

Damn,
it killed him not to know!

It
has to have something to do with what’s inside that briefcase. It holds some
kind of great significance in all of this.

It
is clear what he needs to do; he needs to take whatever is in that briefcase,
and he intends to get it.

Little
Matthew Bosman is feeling pretty good. In fact, he’s never felt so good before.
Carefree and lightheaded, feeling like he can float straight up into the sky.
He drank more champagne than he was supposed to. After things had calmed down
and the champagne bottle was unattended and no one was looking, he snuck a few
more swallows, and boy is it doing something to him now. Everything is so much
more enjoyable. Every
body
is so much more enjoyable, coming and going,
to and from the markets or work or wherever. Happy people, just like he is. He
resists the urge to hug the people he passes but he will like to hug his dad.
So he does.

In
mid-stride Matthew turns to his dad, throws his arms around him, and says, “I
love you, dad.”

It
takes Loak by surprise, but as soon as he sees his son’s grinning, sleepy slow
eyed face gazing up at him he realizes what’s up.

“Son,
are you drunk?”

Matthew
casts a bewildered look up at his father and says, “
Wha
’?”

Loak
sighs.
“Nothing.
I love you, too, son. But your mother
won’t
be loving
me too much if we go home right now
with you looking like this.”

“Why not?
I love momma, too.
I’ma
gonna
give ‘
er
a big hug an’ kiss when I see ‘
er
.
And
ya
know what else?
I’ma
gonna
show ‘
er
m’ knife
Lathan gave me too.” Matthew tries to slide a hand into his pants pocket,
feeling a powerful need to pull out his knife, but misses his pocket. He tries
again but this time he uses one hand to pull the pocket outward to provide an
opening to shove his other hand into. His tongue juts and twists outside his
mouth as if it takes much work and concentration to accomplish the task at
hand.

Loak
rolls his eyes and puffs out his cheeks as he blows air through pursed lips.
“Christ almighty, we surely cannot go home right now.”

“Dad!”
Matthew yells with urgency.
“M’ knife!
I don’t have it! I
musta
left it back at the shop!”

Loak holds up
a hand to calm down his drunken eleven year old son. “Don’t panic. It’s no big
deal. We’ll just go back and get it.” And then he mutters under his breath,
“Which will give us a little more time to sober your little drunk ass up.”

That
damn guard gives him a little more trouble each time he asks for something.
Always complaining that he may get caught.
He’s entertained
the idea of setting up a theater size canvas in the middle of town to provide
the public with a filmed performance of the guard and the guard’s friend in
action. But what good would that do? He would no longer have him or the other
one in his pocket and it is good to have people in your pocket.
Blackmail.
Yes, it is good.
Powerful.
Even with all his complaining, in the end, he acted accordingly.

He
goes down to the parking garage and quietly stands in the doorway of the
stairwell for a few ticks, carefully listening to make sure the coast is clear.
Although the guard assured him that no one was down here, and the last thing he
did before coming to the building was check the
spycam
,
he’s still cautious. He hears not a sound. He walks out onto the parking garage
and toward the war machine.

Loak
is in no hurry to find his son’s knife and then get back home to his wife so
they both walk leisurely to the building and down to the parking garage.

The
sentry allows them through like so many times before without a problem, after
all, the sentry doesn’t know that they are finished with their project. He, the
sentry, like everyone else not involved in the secret project, is not allowed
into that area without proper verification. Although the thought of sneaking
down there and taking a quick peek has crossed his mind a time or two he is
afraid that he may be found absent from his post without relief and perhaps
caught down there and will then lose his job. It is a good job with fine
benefits, and though very strict, he doesn’t want to risk it.

Matthew
doesn’t notice anything unusual as they approach the Battle Durango, he is
paying more attention to the music in his head, but being that Loak’s brain
isn’t clouded with alcohol he is more in tune with his surroundings. He thought
Lathan would have already gone upstairs but when he comes about ten yards away
Loak hears a commotion coming from the vehicle. As they get closer he sees
movement between the front seats through the windshield and he guesses that
Lathan is still doing something in his newly improved vehicle.

Loak
hollers out, “Hey, Lathan! We couldn’t stand it, we just had to come back to
spend the whole night with
ya
!”
Loak
chuckles.

The
movement in the SUV stops.

All
of Loak’s tools are still here scattered over the tables. No one was in a hurry
to pack it all up and leave for good so they left it all here to come back to
retrieve later. Mathew goes directly to the tools table to sift for his knife
while Loak goes to the open driver’s side door. Loak peers inside and says, “So
how about it, buddy?”

The
only visible things of the figure are his back and legs, anything beyond that
is lost behind the driver’s side seat. But something isn’t quite right; the
clothes, he remembers Lathan wearing baggy black pants and a white tank top and
these clothes are brown and beige, and the figures back is long and slender
whereas Lathan’s is V-tapered. Loak is about to say something else but the
figure moves so fast that he catches him off guard. Loak glimpses a flash of
chrome in the figures hand as he lunges backward and swings around, smashing
Loak in the jaw.

Loak
falls backward on the floor. Everything starts to spin and tunnel out, feeling
like he is going to blackout. The last thing he remembers is his son, Matthew, as
he sees the figure crawl out of the driver’s side with a black briefcase in one
hand and a wrench in the other.