Deadman Endgame
He’s a fucking snitch! I know he is! Kill this muthafucka, man! You need to waste this bitch!
A long dead silence. Anthony had had his say. Now it was Leon’s turn, but Luther told somebody to get Leon a drink first, the way Michael Corleone did in The Godfather before he whacked Carlo Rizzi. Leon’s eyes were wide and frightened, which would be the case with any man tied naked to a chair with three loaded guns pointed to his head. Somebody poured a shot of bourbon down his throat. He choked on the burn and coughed, but it lessened his fear enough to speak.
The hell with you, he growled at Anthony. I ain’t no fucking snitch. Somebody set us up. Somebody knew we was hitting that grocery store tonight. The police was shooting at all of us. Why they shooting at me if I tipped ’em off?
Anthony found renewed rage.
Because they don’t give a fuck about your sorry ass, Anthony said. You think they give a shit if they kill you on the side? You one dumb son of a bitch. Kill this fool, Luther. I’ll do it my damn self.
Luther waved him off and gave him a look like it’s time for you to shut the fuck up now. Anthony shut the fuck up.
Luther looked Leon in the eyes. He had not known this boy more than a few months but had let him into his inner circle because he liked the kid, still a teenager. Now he wondered whether he had been played for a fool. Luther didn’t like being played for a fool and didn’t like getting fucked by anybody but Mrs. Luther.
No matter how much he liked this boy, Luther needed to know what he was dealing with here, and who. Two men had been killed tonight. He needed to know how that happened. The supermarket was an inside job. It was supposed to be clean. Leon had a man working in the store. Now that man was missing. The money was not in the store safe like he said it was. They got set up, and somebody had to pay for this, starting with Leon. He looked the boy in the eyes dead square and leaned forward.
If I thought Anthony was right I would cut your heart out right now, he said, but I got no proof, so it’s like this. He held out his hand. Somebody give me a gun.
An hour later they were parked on a busy street near downtown, the traffic still plodding along at a snail’s pace even at this late hour. People were either on the way home or on the way out to enjoy a Friday night out on the town. Luther pulled the semi-automatic pistol from his waistband and racked it, putting a bullet in the chamber. Then he removed the clip and handed the gun to Leon.
Look at me muthafucka, he said. You got one bullet in this gun. Now I don’t know if what Anthony’s dumb ass trying to tell me is the truth or not. All I know is this was your job tonight. We got ratted out. Jesse and T-Bone are dead. I didn’t get no money and everybody looking at you, so this is how it plays out. You walk across the street and do what you need to do; then I know you ain’t no snitch. I’ll let you live but you get the hell out of my town, tonight. But you miss? He draws down on you and you dead. On the other hand, if you miss and get away, I’m gonna kill your mother, your father, your brothers and sisters, everybody in your whole fucking family. If they got pets I will kill them too. Then I will hunt you down and I will kill you slow. I will cut off your fucking cock and shove it down your throat until you choke to death. Are you listening to me son?
Leon knew Luther well enough. He didn’t need to question what was being said to him. He took the gun and got out of the car. Anthony followed him, holding a Heckler under his sweatshirt. Another carload of men sat a block away, cutting off any attempt Leon might make to escape. Leon had no choice. He tightened his grip on the pistol and walked over to the car. He tapped on the window. It cracked open barely enough for him to see in at the lone man sitting there, watching him with a hard wary look. Leon cleared his throat.
Excuse me officer, he said.
