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Chapter 11: Endgame

The plan coalesced in Warren as he called his cohorts back from hiding. He might pull this off, but speed was essential.

He pulled out his phone, "we've got to move fast, but if you all do what I say, we'll all get out of this alive." He push dial and bunched his shirt over the mic to muffle his voice. He held up a finger to keep everyone quiet, and put the phone on speaker.

It was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Every unanswered ring seemed to fill the world. On the fourth ring someone picked up.

"I assume, this being a blocked number, you're the moutherfuckers that are holding my asshole son for ransom," Talbot said.

"Change of plans, Talbot," Warren rasped into the receiver. "You're giving me the money now."

"The fuck I am! We agreed forty-eight hours."

"I'm altering the agreement," Warren said calmly.

"If you want any money, you'll wait until I'm ready!" Talbot's shouting threatened to blow the phone's speaker, but Warren pushed him, goading him deeper into his rage until the line abruptly went dead.

"He hung up!" Noel bleated. "What are you trying to do to us?"

Warren gave the wolverine a relaxed smile. "It's a dance, Noel. He needs to believe he has no other options." Warren walked over to Lester and put his arm around him. "I hate to ask you to take another one for the team, but we'll need more pictures. Convincing ones."

Lester gave a nod of grim determination. "I understand."

Warren pushed him down on one of the unbroken kitchen chairs. "Jack. It needs to look bad. But don't do any permanent damage. Remember... he's with us now."

"Right, boss." The goat walk to the chair. He didn't seem as eager to rough up the coyote as he might have once been. Jack drew his fist back. "Nothing personal, Les."

"Wait!" Lester threw his hands in front of his face. "Wait."

Jack looked to Warren. "What, Lester? Time is a factor here," Warren said.

"I, um, I... was wondering if you could, maybe, be the one to hit me?"

Warren thought he could detect a blush under the sandy coyote fur. He exhaled heavily. "Fine." He took Jack's spot. This shouldn't be this complicated. He grabbed Lester's jaw and angled it as his arm went back.

He looked into those soulful eyes and expressive lips, curved into a tight smile.

"Shit." Warren let go and took a step back. "Can't we let Kev do this? I can't bring myself to hit you."

"Good," Lester said. "Then you won't mind me saying that I took a peak last night, and your cousin has a bigger dick than you."

Warren clenched his fist, but before his anger could muster, he knew what Lester was trying to do. And he was touched at the effort.

"And not by a little either! I mean, I've watched a lot of porn and taken a lot of cock. Next to him you're just like a-" Lester's exhalations of Kevin's generous endowments cut off with the first blow.

***

When his blood soaked fists were too sore to deliver another punch, Warren had a fleeting thought that he might have anger issues. "God. Are you alright?" he asked Lester.

Lester was slumped forward, breathing hard. He let go of the hold he had on the chair and gave a thumbs up.

Warren inspected his work. It might have been easier to have used a bat. "I'll get you to a dentist once we're through, but the missing tooth is a nice touch."

Lester spat a gob of blood on the floor and looked at Warren. "I think I love you," he slurred.

One crisis at a time, Warren reminded himself, and pushed that can of worms to the back burner. "Kev, toss me the phone."

"Noel's got it."

Warren noticed his absence. "Where the fu-"

"Here!" Noel called, entering from the living room. He looked at Lester and shuddered. "I'm not good with violence."

Warren readied the phone to send a picture.

"Wait," said Lester. "What if we get Howard in the shot?"

Jack laughed, "Fuck, boss, you gave him a concussion! Who the hell is Howard?"

Lester tried to spit out more bloody saliva, though most just ran down his chin. "The horse. I recognized him. He works the door when I go to the city for gambling. He's... pretty recognizable," he looked at Warren, "if you're framing the Syndicate."

Warren patted the coyote's head causing Lester to wince. "Good thinking. Maybe next time, you might want to share vital information like that sooner, but yeah."

***

"Is he dead?" asked Noel.

"No," Warren held the phone up, looking for the right angle to give the impression of the stallion was only incidentally in the shot. "We're not that lucky."

Warren lowered the phone and sighed. "We're gonna have to cut his arms loose. Let's do this quick before he comes to." He waved his arm, "Jack, prop him up, so it looks like he's sitting. Kev, cut the ropes." Warren looked to the still shaky Lester, who was holding himself up on Noel. "Lester, sit on the bed and act like he's holding you up for the camera. Drape his arm across your neck or something."

There was a flurry of hectic activity. Warren felt a spark of pride at how smooth things were going.

Lester was leaning against the horse. The fear was probably genuine, Warren thought with approval. That would look good when he sent the picture. "Ok, now wrap his arm around your neck. Like he's got you in a headlock."

Lester was hesitant, but with Kevin's help he was soon in a believable hold.

Warren was cursing at the phone's autofocus when the the stallion's muscles tensed, and the choking grip became real.

Lester's eyes bulged and he let out a strangled, "gak!"

Warren started snapping pictures even before he processed what was happening. "Shit!"

Howard jerked his legs, causing the bed to shake. "Cut me loose, you walking corpses. And do it fast, 'cause I'd guess this bleeding cum-bucket has less than a minute before the lack of oxygen starts killing his brain."

"Shit!" Warren repeated.

"And give me my fucking gun," Howard shouted at Kevin.

Kev looked at the handle of the gun sticking out of his waistband.

"Shit!" Warren wailed for a third time. How could this be happening?

Amazingly, Howard managed to squeeze Lester tighter, eliciting a sound usually considered unpronounceable by vertebrates.

"The gun! Now, or I snap this bitch's neck!"

A crack echoed through the room. Warren's heart froze for one terrified second. Then a gush of blood, like a low pressure water fountain, pumped out the new hole in the side of Howard's head.

Jack's hands shook, still holding his smoking gun. "What a rush," he spoke, almost reverently.

Howard slumped over.

Warren couldn't resist comforting Lester, but time was still an issue. He sent Noel to take Lester back downstairs and maybe find some beer.

He called Talbot after sending the least blurred picture he had manage to snap, looking at the corpse for a reminder of how deadly serious this affair was. "You got the pic?"

There was silence and for a moment Warren wondered if Talbot had hung up on him. Then, "Yeah. I got it."

"Unless you want Lester to start losing more than teeth, have the cash in a backpack ready to go in ten minutes." Warren disconnected.

***

Warren barked out orders while studying the map on his phone. He hoped this would be the last time he would be in this damn kitchen.

"Kev, you're sure there's just the one SUV watching us?"

"Yes."

Warren dialed Talbot one last time. He gave the drop point as the county road opposite the old farmhouse. "Look for the dark SUV. Toss the money and keep driving."

"Hold the fuck up," Talbot yelled. "I want Lester's location before you get a damn thing."

Warren put his hand over the receiver. "Damn it!" He kicked over a chair and inspiration struck.

"Lester, give me the address of one of those gambling dens that ripped you off." That would further implicate the Syndicate.

***

The five of them were crammed in Jack's car. Warren sat behind the wheel.

"Can we go yet?" Jack craned his head between Lester and Warren, his horns scraped the ceiling.

"Just wait for it," Lester answered for Warren. The coyote insisted on riding shotgun, and with Jack's good mood, at finally getting to shoot someone, he let him.

"For what?"

Warren looked in the rearview window. "What time is it?"

Noel answered immediately. Aside from his nervous habit of compulsive clock-watching, he was taking things in stride.

It had been two minutes since Warren guessed the drop would be made. There was a temptation to get out and peek around the back of the house and try to get a glimpse of the Syndicate's tail, but that turned out to be unnecessary. The unmistakable staccato rhythm of automatic weapons fire crackled in the open air. The drop was going about as he expected.

Warren gunned the engine and sped off down the unpaved drive.

***

Four miles aways and Warren was still explaining his reasoning to them.

"So we're not going to be millionaires?" Kevin asked.

"Oh, we're still going to be rich. It's just taking a more circuitous route."

To Warren's pleased surprise, Noel was quick to be on board with it. "It's a lot safer than taking a full two million from a mobster," he said.

"Yeah," said Warren, "investing the sixty grand in a legitimate poker tournament may seen like gamble, but, trust me, with Lester here, it's a sure thing."

Warren rested his arm across Lester's shoulders. "By the time Talbot's furs and the Syndicate stop filling each other with lead, we'll be living like kings on our own private island somewhere nice and tropical."

***

End

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