The Hunters Part 3

"Why don't you?" he replied.

"Hey, don't offer if it's not going to happen."

"I wouldn't. Consider this your parking s.p.a.ce. Reserved for Amanda Davies."

"What's the monthly rate?" she said.

"You already paid it. Earlier tonight."

They both laughed, and she felt herself falling back to sleep.

"Are you excited to work with Jack tomorrow?" she asked, her eyes beginning to close.

"Excited, a little nervous. He's never seen me in action."

"You'll be great," she said.

"Yeah, I think there's still a great story out there. Hopefully the old man can help me find it." He gave her one squeeze, and she gripped his arms. "Good night baby," he said.

"Henry?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't need you to tell me to be careful, do I?" Amanda said.

"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 bas.e.m.e.nt 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 acc.u.mulate 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.

She's a girl. She's here to save me. The brutality is over.

If only he knew who this woman was.

"h.e.l.lo, 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 Saving Private Ryan. Saving Private Ryan. I swear I thought the Germans were actually shooting at me." I swear I thought the Germans were actually shooting at me."

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 h.e.l.l 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.

"f.u.c.k, man, are you serious?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Tsang was one of our best earners. Why the h.e.l.l did it have to be him?"

"Because then everyone else will know how vulnerable they are. If Tsang can go down, so can anybody."

"You don't think you could have pulverized, I don't know, Ben Purvis and gotten the same reaction?"

"Ben Purvis is an idiot who can barely tie his shoes. He's going to end up dead sooner or later. He croaks, people just a.s.sume he got what was coming to him. With Tsang, people will tighten up like they're about to get a hot poker up their a.s.s. We need everyone alert, everyone game."

Leonard Reeves shook his head as they gingerly stepped aboard the boat. Reeves gently placed his side of the bag onto the floor. Malloy dropped his like a sack of potatoes.

"You don't need to be gentle with this thing," Malloy said. "He's deader than oatmeal. In fact, he might actually be the same consistency as oatmeal right now."

"You're a sick f.u.c.k, Malloy," Reeves said.

"And you're a rich p.r.i.c.k, Len," Malloy replied.

"Fair enough. Where we headed?"

"There's a buoy out by the Marine Transfer station in the East River."

"Ninety-first Street I think," Reeves said.

"We're going to tie our friend up, and then..." Malloy reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag.

"You've gotta be kidding me. Balloons?"

"We want Mr. Tsang here to be found right quick."

"Did you have to make them pink?"

Malloy laughed. "I'm a romantic."

"All right, let's go. I want to be back in bed by six o'clock."

"No problem. You will be."

"Good. And hey, Malloy, did you guys take care of the girl? You know, the reporter?"

"Paulina Cole?"

"Yeah, her," Reeves said. "Didn't you guys have something planned for her?"

"It's taken care of," Malloy said.

"She's kind of hot for an older broad," Reeves said. "Hey, wouldn't it be kind of funny if I screwed her?"

"After what I did to her this afternoon," Malloy said, "I don't think she's going to let any strangers come near her for a long, long time. Or her daughter."