The Con (part five)
Jul. 15th, 2005 02:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
milliways_sawyerSawyer walks into the office flanked by two of Durand's men. In his hand is the briefcase he'd left with, returning twice as heavy. He sets it on the desk and smiles. "There you go, chief. A little over five hundred grand."
Durand pops the locks on the briefcase and inspects the contents. "Good. Very good."
Sawyer nods silently for a moment, then says, "Well, I reckon that's it. I'll find my own way out." He turns to walk out, anxious to get back to Claire. It had been a long month.
Durand calls out behind him. "Not so fast. I've changed my mind."
He stops and speaks without turning around. "Twenty percent was the deal. That's what you got."
"Yes, but I've decided I want the rest of it, too."
"Fuck you."
Before he can do anything else, Sawyer feels a searing pain in his thigh as one of Durand's men shoots him in the leg. He cries out and drops to the ground.
"You will tell me where the rest of the money is," Durand says as he steps around from behind his desk,.
"You kill me, and you won't know where I hid it," Sawyer spits.
"Oh, we won't kill you. Yet."
***
He sits in the same small chair he had the first time he visited this office. This time, though, he is tied there.
And the fingers on his left hand are broken.
As are his jaw and probably a couple of ribs.
His left eye is swelled shut, and the bullet wound in his right thigh is leaking blood all over the floor.
Mr. Tattoo is standing over him wielding a ball-peen hammer. "Let's try this one more time, trailer trash. Where's the money?"
Sawyer just shakes his head. He'd given up on trying to speak.
"That's a shame," his tormentor sighs. "Hope you won't be needing those big toes."
About that time, the office door opens, and another of Durand's men walks in with a large gym bag. "Look what I found outside, boss." Sawyer's heart sinks.
They found the money.
Durand laughs. "You hid it outside the front door of my store?!?" The truth is, Sawyer hadn't had time to hide it somewhere safe. He was planning on squaring up with Durand and heading immediately back to the bar.
"So, we don't need him alive no more, right, boss?"
"No. But don't kill him," he says to the thug who had been drawing his gun. "I got a better idea. Cleaner. Load him into one of the trucks."
***
Sawyer tries to brace himself as the delivery truck comes to a halt, but he isn't quite up to the effort and clenches his teeth in pain as he tumbles onto his side. A couple of seconds later, the side door opens, and Durand steps in with his man.
"Since I'm a nice guy, I'm giving you a chance. It isn't much of a chance, but it's better than a bullet to the skull. See, the way I hear it, there's all kinds of nasty folks that live around here. People disappear, and nobody asks any questions. Maybe that'll be you."
Mr. Tattoo grabs Sawyer and tosses him unceremoniously out onto the sidewalk, and the tires squeal as the truck pulls away.
Trying his best not to pass out from the pain and blood loss, it takes Sawyer a few minutes to realize where they left him.
Rue Royale. A few yards away from Richard and Amadeo's home.
Despite the jaw, Sawyer laughs.
Durand pops the locks on the briefcase and inspects the contents. "Good. Very good."
Sawyer nods silently for a moment, then says, "Well, I reckon that's it. I'll find my own way out." He turns to walk out, anxious to get back to Claire. It had been a long month.
Durand calls out behind him. "Not so fast. I've changed my mind."
He stops and speaks without turning around. "Twenty percent was the deal. That's what you got."
"Yes, but I've decided I want the rest of it, too."
"Fuck you."
Before he can do anything else, Sawyer feels a searing pain in his thigh as one of Durand's men shoots him in the leg. He cries out and drops to the ground.
"You will tell me where the rest of the money is," Durand says as he steps around from behind his desk,.
"You kill me, and you won't know where I hid it," Sawyer spits.
"Oh, we won't kill you. Yet."
***
He sits in the same small chair he had the first time he visited this office. This time, though, he is tied there.
And the fingers on his left hand are broken.
As are his jaw and probably a couple of ribs.
His left eye is swelled shut, and the bullet wound in his right thigh is leaking blood all over the floor.
Mr. Tattoo is standing over him wielding a ball-peen hammer. "Let's try this one more time, trailer trash. Where's the money?"
Sawyer just shakes his head. He'd given up on trying to speak.
"That's a shame," his tormentor sighs. "Hope you won't be needing those big toes."
About that time, the office door opens, and another of Durand's men walks in with a large gym bag. "Look what I found outside, boss." Sawyer's heart sinks.
They found the money.
Durand laughs. "You hid it outside the front door of my store?!?" The truth is, Sawyer hadn't had time to hide it somewhere safe. He was planning on squaring up with Durand and heading immediately back to the bar.
"So, we don't need him alive no more, right, boss?"
"No. But don't kill him," he says to the thug who had been drawing his gun. "I got a better idea. Cleaner. Load him into one of the trucks."
***
Sawyer tries to brace himself as the delivery truck comes to a halt, but he isn't quite up to the effort and clenches his teeth in pain as he tumbles onto his side. A couple of seconds later, the side door opens, and Durand steps in with his man.
"Since I'm a nice guy, I'm giving you a chance. It isn't much of a chance, but it's better than a bullet to the skull. See, the way I hear it, there's all kinds of nasty folks that live around here. People disappear, and nobody asks any questions. Maybe that'll be you."
Mr. Tattoo grabs Sawyer and tosses him unceremoniously out onto the sidewalk, and the tires squeal as the truck pulls away.
Trying his best not to pass out from the pain and blood loss, it takes Sawyer a few minutes to realize where they left him.
Rue Royale. A few yards away from Richard and Amadeo's home.
Despite the jaw, Sawyer laughs.
