Easy Money

58

JW sat with his back against a packing case. The floor was cold. His position was uncomfortable. His hands were taped back a little too tightly.

But not that tightly-part of his agreement with Nenad was that they’d tape him so that he’d have a chance to break free. Who wanted to end up on their ass in a cold-storage facility all night?

Even so, the situation’d gotten out of hand.

Shooting Fahdi was not part of the fucking plan. JW had no clue who Nenad’s helpers were, but that big asshole’d definitely made a mistake. A horrific overstep.

Panic was creeping up on him.

Abdulkarim was on the floor, with his hands behind his back, duct tape wound tightly around his wrists. But he refused to shut up. The Arab screamed, spat, and drooled in turn.

Jorge was sitting just like JW, against a pallet, with his hands taped behind his back. He stared at JW.

Chills ran up and down JW’s spine. The room was chilly. The Yugos were ice-cold.

Fuck.

Nenad and his helper unpacked the last of the cabbage. Opened it just like Jorge, JW, and Fahdi’d done. Crammed the baggies into the suitcases. Skipped the weighing and tasting. Ignored the Arab’s screaming. Didn’t even look in JW’s direction.

Jorge kept staring. But not at the men in the ski masks, who were in the process of stealing over two hundred pounds of C. He was staring at JW.

“You told them, didn’t you?”

JW thought, How could Jorge know?

“You, you fucking idiot, got ’em here, and you don’t even know who they really are.”

“What are you talking about? I have no idea who they are.”

JW turned his head. Looked over at Nenad. He had a cabbage in his hand. Carefully slit it open with a box cutter. Took care not to cut the bag. A couple of spilled grams-maybe ten thousand kronor. Nenad didn’t seem to give a shit about JW and Jorge’s conversation. Maybe he didn’t hear it-Abdulkarim’s curses were distracting.

Jorge said in a low voice, “Fahdi for sure ain’t the canary. Why’d he let someone in who’d shoot him in the face? Abdulkarim? No, he’d never drag anyone into this who’d shoot his best friend. So, who can it be? Petter or you-’cause it ain’t me. And you said something a half hour ago that I’m thinkin’ about now. You told me to be chill. I’ve never heard you talk like that before. Why’d you say that anyway? How’d you wanna affect me? You’re fucked, JW, man.”

“Shut up.”

JW looked straight ahead. Turned his eyes away from Jorge. The Chilean was smarter than he’d thought. But what did it matter now? In a couple of minutes, Nenad and his man would be gone. JW would break free and maybe help Jorge with the tape, then disappear. Jorge, Abdulkarim, and Fahdi, if he was alive, would have to make it on their own-sorry, boys, that’s life.

There was one case of cabbage left. The Yugos worked quickly. JW closed his eyes and waited for them to skip out.

Jorge hissed again, “Listen to me, JW.”

JW ignored him.

“Fuck, man, listen. You workin’ with those hustlers? You know who they are? You know what they done to your sister?”