“Come on, Amanda,” Henry said. “What would I need to be careful of?”
Chapter 6
The first swing of the crowbar shattered Kenneth Tsang’s kneecap. The second nearly dislodged it completely, ripping it away from the tendons that held it in place, rendering the entire leg practically useless.
Kenneth Tsang was lying in the basement of the nightclub where he’d spent so much time over the past few months. Tsang had made himself well into six figures working for Malloy, and had begun to trust the man completely. Which was why when Malloy asked him to be there at four in the morning, dressed to the nines, Tsang did not even ask why. He simply showed up, was ushered inside and subsequently had his right leg shattered beyond recognition.
Tsang lay on the floor, writhing in pain. At first he screamed as loud as anyone Malloy had ever heard, and Malloy worried for just a brief moment that the soundproof walls might just not hold up for a guy this sissified. After the second blow, however, the screams turned into a pathetic whimpering, and now Tsang lay there on the floor, still wearing his three-thousand-dollar suit, with one pant leg torn to shreds.
A small puddle of drool began to accumulate under Tsang’s head. He’d thrown up on himself. Not surprising. Pain and fear would do that to you. He was trying to crawl away, crawl anywhere. Sad, really. The door was locked. A blind man with no legs could get around faster than Tsang with that busted wheel. But he still crawled and blubbered and begged for mercy.
“P-p-please,” Tsang blurted, thick spittle flying out with every syllable. “D-d-don’t…”
Malloy just stood there holding the crowbar. Then the door opened and the dark-haired woman strode in. Tsang looked at her, confused, then he looked back at Malloy. For a moment, his eyes relaxed. Malloy knew exactly what he was thinking.
If only he knew who this woman was.
“Hello, Kenneth,” the woman said. She knelt down by his crippled form. He tried to raise his head, but was too weak. Without hesitating, she grabbed him by his hair and jerked his head backward until his eyes met hers.
“How are you feeling?”
“P-p-please,” Tsang repeated. “Let me go. I…I swear…I won’t tell anyone.”
The woman looked over her shoulder at Malloy.
“What do you think?” she said. “Should we let him go?”
Malloy said nothing. Just shrugged.
The woman released Tsang’s hair. His face splatted against the floor, leaving another drool mark.
“Do you know why you’re here?” the woman asked Tsang.
“N-n-no,” he gasped. “I…I need to go…”
“I know this isn’t exactly fair to you,” the woman said. “In the past, we’ve only made examples out of employees who’ve stolen from us. Lied to us. Betrayed us like Stephen Gaines.”
“I n-n-never betrayed you,” Tsang said.
“I know you haven’t, Ken, I know you haven’t. But Gaines is dead, shot to death. A little too professional for my tastes. Being shot in the head sucks, but it doesn’t convey the same fear as, say, well…”
She pointed at Tsang’s mutilated leg.
“That leg, that sends a message.”
Tsang spat out, “Then…then let me go.”
The woman clicked her tongue against the side of her mouth and shook her head.
“It’s not just the leg, Ken. It’s what they see when they find you. Or find your body. I’m not a big fan of talking to people before I kill them, but you’ve been a pretty loyal guy and I think you deserve an explanation.”
Malloy could see fear beyond rational explanation in Tsang’s eyes, the kind of fear that came not from knowing your fate, but from having no idea just how much pain you could possibly be in.
“Tomorrow we begin the most important phase in our company’s history,” she continued. “You’re a finance guy, Ken. You understand when companies begin new phases, how important it is to make sure everyone’s in line. Make sure everyone has the same goals. And do you know what the single biggest motivational tool is in any company? Do you, Ken?”
Ken shook his head. At least he tried to.
“It’s fear,” the woman said. “Fear of being fired. Fear of being downsized. Fear of losing an income that you worked so hard for. Fear of losing the lifestyle you’ve become accustomed to. And, really, isn’t that exactly why you came to work for us in the first place?”
“I won’t tell anyone,” Ken blubbered. “I won’t tell…”
He tried to crawl again, slapping his arms against the concrete floor like a seal.
“I’m growing tired of this,” the woman said. She walked over to where Ken was lying, raised her hand above her head and brought the crowbar down on Kenneth Tsang’s left arm with a sickening crunch.
Tsang howled in pure agony and tried to roll over, but his maimed knee wouldn’t allow it.
“Now you’re triple-jointed,” the woman said. “Anyone…I suppose what I’m trying to say, Ken, is that there are no hard feelings here. But right now your body is worth more dead than alive to us. Tomorrow morning, when they find you, you will matter more than you ever have in your life. Your body will create that fear we need. Two bullets in the back of the skull is a quick, painless exit. This,” she said, nodding toward him, “this is something you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy, let alone yourself.”
“My mother…,” Ken blurted.
“Will miss you very, very much.” The woman raised the crowbar above her head, looking Kenenth Tsang directly in his watery eyes.
“Who…who are you?” he said, his lip trembling.
“I was given a name a long time ago,” the woman said. “Beware the fury of a patient man.”
Then she brought the crowbar down again.
The boat approached the dock, and the driver pulled up alongside and tied a rope to a cleat. Once it was fastened tight, he went to help Malloy with the body.
“Hey, Len,” Malloy said. “Got you out of bed, it seems.”
“First time I’ve been awake past midnight in a year,” Leonard said.
“If I had a pad as slick as yours I don’t think I’d ever leave. How’s the new flat screen?”
“Sixty-inch plasma,” Leonard said. “Just hooked up the surround sound. I could watch movies all day on that thing. Just screened
Malloy laughed. “You’re a good man, Len,” he said. “Now come on, help me out.”
The two men went over to the nondescript white van, opened the back door and hauled out a green burlap sack.
“Jesus Christ,” Leonard said. “What the hell you got in here?”
“Mutilated boy,” Malloy replied.
Leonard looked at him. “That’s not funny.”
Malloy said, “I ain’t laughing.”
“You’re serious,” Leonard said. He looked at the bag, felt it. “This feels like a bunch of mush.”
“Then that means we did it right.”
Leonard sighed. “You gotta do what you gotta do. Can I ask who this is?” he said as the men carried the bag over to where the boat was idling.
“Ken Tsang,” Malloy answered, his eyes staying on the bag.
“Fuck, man, are you serious?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Tsang was one of our best earners. Why the hell did it have to be him?”
“Because then everyone else will know how vulnerable they are. If Tsang can go down, so can
