Kill the King by Eric Samson Read Free Book Online

wanted to fit
in. I forgave him and let him work for me. For a long time he was
my delivery boy, and he never once complained of the work he was
given. He was just so grateful to have a home. . .and a father.”
    His words were
not meant to embarrass Tyler. They were meant to remind him of the
humility and loyalty that was expected of him.
    “I was grateful
and I still am. I’m not ashamed of what I’ve done to make my bones.
I just don’t see why the white boys can’t just send one of their
bitches over here to pick it up.”
    “Under more
ordinary circumstances I would be fine with that, but this
briefcase is for Frank Metzger. I want you to hand it to him
personally. No one else gets his hands on it. Is that
understood?”
    Tyler nodded.
He understood the instructions but not the motive behind it. The
Fourteens were bad news.
    “Good. I’m
having enough troubles with them and I do not need anyone fucking
this up. I trust you and Khaled. You won’t disappoint me, will
you?”
    Tyler butt out
his cigarette. “Have I ever, Marko?”

    ****

    Two hours had
passed and Tyler was still waiting. This was an everyday part of
the job. More than anything, Tyler spent much of his working days
waiting; waiting for further instructions. Waiting for a ride.
Waiting for a cash drop. Waiting for a shipment to arrive. Waiting
for a beaten down rat to confess. Waiting for the right moment to
squeeze the trigger. Always waiting . Prison was not much
different, even more so when doing time in the Block. The only real
difference was the clothing he wore and the liberty to drink and
smoke. . .small mundane things that don’t really mean much to you
until you’ve had them taken away.
    Tyler gathered
the apartment was most likely intended to be a safe house. It was
small but it had all the essentials, and more importantly it was
discreetly tucked away in an inconspicuous low-rise building.
People came and went all the time and no one could tell apart the
residents from the visitors.
    True to his
word, Marko had made good on the amenities he assured would be
waiting for Tyler upon his arrival. The small safe had a few
thousand dollars stacked in neat bricks of clean bills, the clothes
were clean and fit him fine, and the liquor cabinet was generously
stocked with several fine bottles and a couple of cartons of
Indonesian kreteks , Tyler’s favourite cigarettes.
    After getting
cleaned up and dressed for work, Tyler passed the time sitting on a
leather couch and cleaning his guns between swigs and puffs. He had
already gone through half a bottle of bourbon and was working on
his second pack of clove cigarettes by the time he had taken apart,
cleaned, and reassembled his handguns.
    The guns were
already in fine enough condition as they were, but Tyler had plenty
of time on his hands and this was a way to keep him occupied while
waiting for Khaled to arrive. It also helped him keep his mind off
the briefcase that sat at the edge of his coffee table. It was
nothing special from the outside, but then again it’s only what
lies hidden inside that ever matters. Tyler’s curiosity crept up on
him.
    A bomb. It’s a
fucking bomb. Marko must have known about my deal all along. He
probably just wanted to see me one last time before I die. Now he’s
sent me away to blow up their lair, and take Metzger down with me.
That’s what I’d do. Kill a rat and an enemy in one big boom. I
should have killed him when I had the chance.
    Tyler stood up
and nervously paced back and forth, bourbon in hand. Boreta’s
paranoia had already infected his thoughts.
    It might be
cash. It might be dope. It might have nothing really important
inside. All of this could be just a test of my loyalty. I might
survive after all. . .and then what? Kill Marko tomorrow?
    It never
escaped Tyler’s thoughts. Marko Boreta had to die. It was the only
way he could save himself from the Block. There was no other way
out.
    Tyler’s eyes
remain fixated on the briefcase once again.