Cut Throat - Chapter 5 Patience

continued from Chapter 4

Tonto Ramirez stared at the men standing over him, blocking the television. Their dark, tailored suits told him they had money, but with the mind-numbing painkillers coursing through his system, that was all he could wrap his mind around. That, and they looked dangerous. But he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything except his grandmother coming home with his refill.

“I told the cops everything I know,” he said, tired of people coming to him with questions. First it was the cops, then it was the reporters, then more cops. Now, these guys. They didn’t look like cops, in their expensive suits, but they acted like cops, barging in on him when he was just trying to chill.

One of the men smiled at him with a cold line that stretched across his face. His short, white, crew-cut reminded Tonto of an albino he had known, but couldn’t remember his name. Alpha something.

“Well,” said the man, “we’re not cops, so maybe you can tell us something you didn’t tell them. Like, for instance, what was Fool Killer doing calling a meeting without a heads-up from above?”

Tonto blinked. So, they weren’t cops, asking questions about the business, saying things like ‘above’ instead of mentioning the boss’s name.

He shrugged. The other man, the one with greased back hair, whose suit seemed just a tad too big, crossed over to the television and turned it off.

“I was watching that—”

“You can have T.V. time after you answer my questions, Tonto,” said Crew Cut.

Tonto turned his eyes back up to him.

“Why did Fool Killer call the meet?”

“I don’t know, man. I’m just a foot soldier. I do what I’m told.”

Both of them looked down at the space where Tonto’s leg should have been. The one with dark hair laughed. Actually, laughed.

“You were a foot soldier,” said Crew Cut. “Now—not so much.”

“You guys need to go; my grandma will be back soon. She don’t have nothing to do with this.”

Crew Cut's lips stretched again, and he shook his head.

“If you don’t start answering questions, Tonto, she will have plenty to do with this.”

“Why do they call you Tonto, anyway?” said the dark haired one. “You a sidekick or something?”

He laughed. Crew Cut smiled. Tonto looked down, wishing he could be any place else. Wishing he had died in the building on Spring Street.

“It was my grandfather’s name,” Tonto said, his voice low.

“Was he a sidekick?” asked the dark haired one. He sounded serious. Like he wanted to know. But Tonto knew it was a joke.

“All kidding aside, Tonto,” said Crew Cut, “we need you to answer our questions. You know who we are, who we work for, and what we can do to you and your grandmother. Why don’t you help us out? Make it easy for us, so things don’t get any messier than they already are. What was Fook Killer up to?”

Tonto shrugged again. He lifted his heavy eyes as the dark haired one crossed the tiny living room of his grandmother’s apartment and started to look at the photographs on the wall.

“Word was he was starting his own thing. Branching out,” Tonto said. “Thought he was tougher than the boss.”

“Well,” said Crew Cut. “Turns out he wasn’t. Go on.”

“I don’t know anything else. Just that he was trying to get the street soldiers on his side before he started a war. That’s all I know. I wasn’t in the meeting or anything.” He looked down at the empty space where his leg should be. “I was just a foot soldier.”

“Yes,” Crew Cut said. “You said that. Now, moving on. This man who cut off you leg. The one who killed Fool Killer. Tell me about him.”

Tonto’s eyes shifted again. The dark haired one had taken a picture down from the wall and was looking at it. It was an old picture of his grandfather and grandmother, back when they were young.

“This the sidekick?” said the dark haired one, holding up the picture.

Tonto nodded.

“Tell me,” said Crew Cut.

“I just barely saw him,” Tonto said. “He come out of the shadows, dressed all in black, like some kind of ninja or something. He had two swords.”

Tonto shook his head and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about those swords.

“And it was just one man who killed all those people,” said Crew Cut. “With swords.”

“I only saw the one man,” said Tonto.

“Tell me something, Tonto,” said Crew Cut. Behind, the dark-haired man was opening the picture frame. “Tell something useful. Give me something, so I don’t just consider you a loose end.”

Tonto looked into Crew Cut’s eyes. Sweat dripped down Tonto’s temples and his back. The dark-haired man ripped the picture of his grandparents in half.

“You could see the bottom half of his face,” Tonto said, searching for words. “He—he was professional. You could tell because nobody could touch him.”

“Keep going.” Crew Cut leaned over Tonto, his clear blue eyes inches from his own. “Give me something.”

“He let me live!” Tonto screamed, his eyes tearing up. “He could have killed me, he looked right at me, and let me live!”

That seemed to satisfy Crew Cut. He stood up, his lithe figure towering over Tonto in his wheelchair.

“Let’s go,” he said, and turned toward the door.

The dark-haired one stepped toward Tonto and let half of the photograph fall into Tonto’s lap. His grandfather’s face stared up at him.

“I’m going to keep the other half,” said the dark-hared one. “so, you remember to keep your mouth shut about us.”

They left Tonto Ramirez sobbing in his wheelchair and climbed into the Cadillac parked outside the building

The dark-haired one climbed into the driver’s seat. “What we going to do now, Slam? Kid didn’t tell us anything we didn’t know. Boss ain’t going to like us coming back empty handed.”

Crew Cut, who everyone else called Slam, though that wasn’t his real name either, looked out the window at the building, then his clear blue eyes fell on the short old woman coming down the street.

“Oh, Buster, you need to have patience. This man killed everyone in that building except Tonto here. You heard the kid. The man was a professional. No one could touch him. None of those street clowns anyway.”

“Yeah. So?”

“So, he left the kid alive for a reason. He’ll come back here, eventually, to do the same thing we just did. Either spook him or kill him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. So, we wait. And when he comes, we’ll be ready.”

“Okay, Slam, but you know as well as I do, the Boss ain’t a patient man.”

“You have to be patient to catch the big fish, Buster. Even the Boss knows that.”

                                                   ...to be continued!!!