Pay Up and Die Read online

  “I need you to put a little scare job into one of my employees. Someone who I need to keep quiet until the board meeting takes place. This one is different though. I don’t want him dead. I actually like this guy on some level. We go back a few years, but he needs to understand that there is a line that must not be crossed.” Derrick sat back against the bench. He reached into his sweat jacket and pulled out a small stack of cash. He handed it to the debt collector while looking around to make sure nobody was around the area.

  Martin took the money without looking at the banker. He stuffed it into his denim jacket pocket. He spat a huge wad into the dirt at his feet. His squared jaw clenching together as he sniffed loudly. Then he turned and finally looked at Derrick. “Name?”

  “Wright. Michael Wright. He lives over in Dumont off Pershing. Blue house. You are not to touch him though. I want you to kidnap his son. Just take care of him for me until the board meeting. Michael will be too preoccupied with finding his son that he won’t even think about what we are doing to collect the debts. I just need some more time to bring in another million without his righteousness getting in the way. Then we’ll drop his kid off somewhere so he can be found and returned. Do I make myself clear?” Graves stood back up as he asked the question so that it psychologically made him the man on the high ground, the authority figure. He had learned that trick years ago from a mentor.

  Martin stood up himself and looked down at Graves. He didn’t want Graves to think he had the upper hand. So he made sure he postured his size upon the smaller man. “I understand. Derrick. I will take care of Wright’s boy.” His dark eyes searched Graves’ face for the slightest sign of fear. Surprisingly, he didn’t pick up any facial twitches and Graves maintained strong eye contact in return. But he could smell the tiniest bit of fear or self-doubt on Graves breath. His animal instincts were strong and he used all his senses when he became the predator. “Take care of him real good. Until you tell me to drop him.” The debt collector inched closer to Graves and bent his head to get a different angle on Graves’ face.

  “Good.” Derrick responded with a soft squeak. “Good. Now I have to get to the gym so I can come home with some sweaty clothes.” Derrick backed away a few steps while continuing to look at Martin. The huge man never moved and maintained his crazy stare. The dark eyes felt like they were running right through his skull. It bothered him so he spun on his heels and walked towards his car. He felt like he might be losing control of Martin after all these years. It never used to be this difficult conveying his orders but things had changed somehow with the psycho. All those bodies must have diminished his sanity. Derrick began to consider finding another man for his dirty work. One who could handle his direct orders. And eliminate the need for Martin.

  The debt collector followed Graves with his eyes. He hoped he got his point across that he was not some piece of garbage that could be talked down to or mistreated. He didn’t respond well to repeated belittling. There were people in his past who found that out. Maybe there should be more. He tossed the rest of the crackers, wrapper and all into the pond. He unzipped his fly and urinated profusely into the dark water and tilted his head to the sky. The night was welcoming. Darkness opened to darkness.

  Chapter 14

  The morning air felt crisp. Michael liked early autumn weather because the beginning and end of each day were chilly but the middle of the day was warm. It was the perfect combination, like the ingredients of s’mores. His face and head were hurting less today but he still looked like a raccoon. Although washing his face in the shower was still a painful chore. Reminded of chores he wondered when Andrew was going to learn to get up early enough to take the trash out as he was expected to. Michael wheeled the first garbage can down to the curb. He looked up the street and observed that everyone else’s trash was already curbside. As he turned to retrieve the other trash can he noticed someone across the street, partially covered by the neighbor’s sycamore tree. He figured it was another dog walker letting his pet crap all over someone else’s lawn. The Wright’s weren’t pet owners but they liked animals. But it always irked him that people were so rude with their dogs. Why don’t the owners let the dogs crap on their own lawns. Oh yeah, he sarcastically answered himself, because even the dog owners don’t want crap on their lawns. But it was okay to have them do it to somebody else’s property. Assholes.

  As Michael returned with the second trash can, he glanced across the street again. The large man wasn’t walking a dog. He was just standing there staring at Michael. The man’s denim jacket was buttoned all the way up. Even the jacket collars were tilted up. The sloppy dark hair catching the small breeze. Michael placed the can next to the first one at the curb and then looked back at the stranger. A chill of uneasiness ran down his back and he quickly looked away. Michael headed up his driveway a few steps but had to stop as he felt the staring man behind him. He turned and shouted across the street, “Can I help you?”

  The large man stepped behind the tree. He was so large that his body was only partially covered by the massive tree. Michael found that to be an odd move and his uneasiness increased. He felt scared of confronting this guy but after the week he was having his tolerance levels lowered and increased his temper. He started walking back down his short driveway to the street. As he approached, the stranger stepped forward into view. Michael couldn’t believe how big this guy was. It seemed as if he doubled in size within the fifty feet he had covered. The man had a strong jawline and dark eyes that were shadowed by thick eyebrows. His full lips were surrounded by a few days worth of stubble. Michael looked up into his face. “I said, can I help you?”

  The large man glanced up the street then looked back at Michael. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear what you said. I saw you taking out your trash.”

  Michael thought that was an odd response. He felt like he knew this person even though he had never seen him before. “Yeah, most people take their trash out on trash day.” Their eyes were locked together. “I just don’t know why my taking the trash out interests you.”

  “Right. Sorry. I, uh, was walking up the street when you started to bring out your garbage and I, uh, didn’t know what to say.”

  “There’s nothing to say.” Michael searched the man’s intentions. “Do I know you from somewhere?” He noticed no change in the large man’s demeanor.

  “No. I, uh, am new to the area and I am a little shy. I thought of introducing myself but lost my courage. Nice to meet you.” He extended his huge hand. Michael hesitantly shook it while seeing his hand engulfed within the massive paw. “Michael. Nice to meet you. And you are?”

  The debt collector paused, trying to come up with a name but drew a blank. “Martin.”

  Michael picked up on the hesitation. “Where do you live, Martin?” He tried to figure out what was so familiar with this stranger.

  “Um, right down there.” Martin pointed to the white house all the way down the block. The house had been empty for some time now and the For Sale sign still stood on the front lawn. “Just closed on it. So I will be your new neighbor. From down the block.” His confidence came back as he felt he had recovered well.

  “Oh. Welcome to the neighborhood. Your family will love this town. Great place to raise a family. You have kids?” Michael eased as he felt that he was letting the week’s events get him paranoid for nothing.

  “No.” The debt collector responded too quickly. “I mean, we tried but, you know. Anyway, it was nice meeting you. And thanks for meeting me halfway. It is tough being shy.” He looked down at his boots. “I should let you get to work. And I have lots to do to settle into this lovely new town.” Martin started to walk up the street towards the white house. Michael followed his path with his gaze. He was relieved the guy was not some psycho. But he still searched his mind for why the man seemed familiar. “See you around.” Michael called after him.

  Count on it. The debt collector thought to himself as he walked up the sidewalk. His palms felt clammy with the inten
sity of the encounter. His skin felt charged with electricity as his excitement overwhelmed him. He really enjoyed the danger of his job and this close call was very exciting, although stressful. Martin glanced back over his shoulder and saw that Michael had already gone back into his house. So he didn’t have to pretend he could get into the white house to cover his story. His pace picked up as he continued past the white house to his truck further down the street. He whistled an old bluegrass tune his father used to play on the radio.

  Chapter 15

  He was pissed. This just kept getting worse. Derrick was tailgating the car in front of him. It was extra menacing that his large SUV dwarfed the smaller car just feet in front of his bumper. He flashed his brights for the fourth time to signal this guy to move over. The smaller car finally took the hint and changed lanes, allowing Derrick to crank up his speed. He was already traveling a good ten miles above the posted limit.

  As he had backed out of his driveway this morning, his cell phone had rung. When he answered he found that it was Dan in Legal. Dan was the head of the Legal Department at the bank. Apparently, Michael had complained to Larry the lawyer about their dust up a few days ago. And then Larry the fucking lawyer whined like a little bitch to Dan about it for fear of being caught in the middle. So Dan took it upon himself to get to the bottom of the allegations. And now there would be a formal investigation so that all the tees were crossed, said Dan. Dan the motherfucking legal man.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Derrick punched his steering wheel to emphasize each curse. He swerved as he lost a little control from his outburst.

  Michael had done it. He had really overstepped his bounds now. How could he do this? All he had to do was keep quiet and they would have gotten through all this. Shit, he would have gotten a hookup from Derrick to reward his loyalty. But now he would get what was coming to him. His rage consumed him to the extent that he was no longer really paying attention to the road or any of the other vehicles around him.

  And fucking Larry the fucking lawyer. He was involved way back when, after Ray Thomas dared to alter his plans. He knew he should have taken care of fucking Larry the fucking lawyer back then too. He gave him a pass since he appeared to cave to his threats. Besides, that was way in the beginning when Derrick was more timid about his business transactions. These days, there was no timidity or hesitation. Derrick knew what he wanted and what he would do to get it. No fat fuck was going to stop him from getting that promotion so he could give Rachel and the girls the life of luxury.

  Derrick fumbled for his cell phone, taking his eyes off the road. A car beeped at him as he crossed the dotted lines but he ignored it altogether. He tried to hit the button to dial Martin but his finger couldn’t connect properly. His hands were shaking too badly from the adrenaline surge. He finally gave up and shouted into the air, “Call Martin.” The phone began the autodial and he impatiently smashed the phone against his ear while he returned his attention to the road. He narrowly missed a pedestrian that began crossing the intersection just after the light turned red. Luckily, the cars on either side had not entered the intersection yet as he flew through. The call went to voice mail and he was bursting out of his suit. In all these years he had never gotten Martin’s voice mail and now had to be the first time? Now? The beep sounded and he could no longer control himself. “Where the fuck are you, sick fucking fuck? The plans have changed. Forget the fucking kid, I want Wright himself and I want him brought to me with fucking cherries on top. You fucking hear me? Do not touch a hair on his head because I want to make him die slowly by my own hands.” He took a deep breath and paused for a second. “I need to see him personally. I will reward you twice over for this. You will get a bonus payment for not hurting him. Plus, I have a new target for you to work on instead. He’s a fat fuck that you can slice up into millions of pieces and wear him like a fucking Halloween costume for all I care.” He started to put the phone down then raised it back up. “Call me, goddammit.” He fired the phone across the passenger seat.

  He had to calm down. He couldn’t go into the office all jacked up like this. People would pick up on his anger and it would make him guilty in their eyes. He was sure the rumor mill would be in full swing but if he could act naturally then people would believe that it was a wild, witch hunt. I mean, who would they believe? Their great leader who was always there for them or the quiet weasel who sat in a cubicle, who had money problems and was clearly looking to cash in on a civil suit to bail him out of financial trouble, and get his daughter the surgery she desperately needed? Yeah, it was going to shape up nicely. After all, who showed up at work all busted up with injuries that came from some sort of physical altercation? Surely people would believe that Michael had gotten himself into some trouble lately and his behavior was erratic. While Derrick had been the same all along.

  He started to settle down now as he fleshed out this back story to put into the minds of the lawyers and HR. Maybe this would play right into his plans nicely. It would discredit Michael’s claim and support his eventual disappearance. It would clean up Larry’s death as Michael probably took him out for squealing to Dan. All tidy. Not bad. He felt relieved as he went from total rage and panic to calm and confident in a matter of minutes.

  Pulling into his parking space, Derrick turned the vehicle off. He twisted the rear view mirror to look at his reflection. His thick, black hair was still in place. It looked like the grays on his temples were more pronounced. His eyes shined with charm as he settled back into himself. I got this, he said to himself as he picked up his cell phone and then stepped out of the SUV. The brick edifice of the bank office blotted out the eastern sun. The shadowed windows resembled evil eyes taunting him. He took a deep breath and approached the entrance.

  Chapter 16

  Andrew Wright was looking forward to school today. It was going to be another movie day because they had a substitute teacher all week. Mrs. Franklin was out for several days because her husband had passed away suddenly. The Principal had told the class that she would need some time for mourning and that they would do their best to keep the kids on track with studies in her absence. Lucky for Andrew and the rest of the class, they still hadn’t figured out how to do that. So they had a substitute teacher assigned to the class each day. And substitutes equal movies. Nice and easy to sit at your desk all day watching films about the Civil War and stuff.

  Andrew’s mother made him wear his green windbreaker but he felt too hot in a jacket today. He wanted to take it off but kept it on for now until he got on the school bus away from his mother’s sight.

  The short, yellow school bus came around the corner and stopped at the bench labeled bus stop. The bus door opened but it looked like a new driver today. Mr. Morton must be sick. The backup driver was a monster. He was enormous and filled up the seat, the steering wheel almost cutting into his bulky chest. The driver leaned towards the door. “Well aren’t you going to get on the bus?” The large man asked in a friendly tone.

  “Where’s Mr. Morton today?” Andrew asked while stepping up the stairs. He looked down the aisle and noticed the bus was completely empty. But there were several stops before Andrew’s street corner. So he paused and looked back at the driver. “And where are all the other kids?” He licked his dry lips because he felt unsure of the situation.

  “Oh, I gotta get them still. It’s my first time doing this route and I think I made a few wrong turns. I guess I’ll have to circle back and pick up the others once we catch up. I don’t want to be late getting you kids to school. I really need this job.” The driver pulled a piece of paper out of his red and black flannel shirt pocket. “Are you Andrew Wright?” He pretended to match up the name on the paper with the face of the kid standing on the top step as if he needed to verify his checklist. He grinned out of the right side of his mouth.

  “Yes.” Andrew answered. “But I think I should go back to my house. I think I forgot my homework.” Andrew lied pretty well. He learned at an early age how to lie to get o
ut of trouble. It came in handy when you had a little sister. He started to turn to go back down the steps.

  “Hold on there, kiddo. Maybe I can just swing the bus around real quick so you can get it faster and I won’t be late for getting the bus to school. You know. We’ll work together like a team to do it faster. Whaddaya say?” The debt collector almost jumped out of the seat to grab the boy but refrained.

  “I think I can do it by myself, thank you.” Andrew said. He felt a burning need to jump off the bus and run home as fast as he could. Something wasn’t right and he was scared. He turned again to go down the steps when a huge fist landed on his left shoulder. It felt like a two ton anchor and riveted him to the spot. He tried to move but couldn’t even flinch. Then the lights went out.

  Martin had punched the kid in the right side of his head with his free hand. Then yanked the kid’s body into the aisle of the bus where it flopped like a rag doll. He spun around on the top step of the bus looking out every window he could to see if anyone had noticed. It looked clear so he squeezed back into the driver’s seat and closed the bus door. He ground the gears trying to shift the bus into first and rolled away from the curb. He stopped at the sign, looked both ways and continued for another two blocks down Delaware Avenue. He found an empty house with a For Sale sign on the yard and pulled up in front of it. There seemed to be plenty of distressed houses in the area, probably all those folks that bought too high in the market and when the bubble burst, they lost the homes to the banks.

  The debt collector threw the bus in park and turned off the engine. He stood up and towered over Andrew’s limp body. His head tilted down to keep from smashing his skull into the roof of the bus. He pulled a folding knife out of his back pocket and crouched down in the aisle of the bus. He studied the peaceful expression on the kid’s face. “Your Dad should have kept his mouth shut, kid. You know what happens to little boys who have father’s with big mouths? They get punished. They got locked in basements and have to share their supper with rats.” Tears were brimming his eyes now as he relived his past. “Boys need to pay for the sins of the father. You see, the pain comes down like a lightning rod. But you get used to it eventually. You take it in. You absorb it. You own it.” A tear dripped down his cheek. He used the knife and began to cut. “That which doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. Remember that. It will keep you warm at night while you sit in your own shit in the dark. It will comfort you when all the others won’t believe what you tell them about how stupid your father is.” More cutting. “It will keep you alive when they try to take your life.” He raised his hand to brush some messy hair out of his eyes when he noticed the blood on his fingers. He stopped speaking and sniffed his fingertips. Then looked at the boy. He stuck the fingers in his mouth and tilted his head up in a euphoric moment of ecstasy. Removing the fingers from his mouth they were cleaned. He began to smile and his white teeth were now pinkish from all the blood in his mouth. It tasted delicious. “The sins of the father must be cleaned.” He breathed so fast now he was nearly hyperventilating. “The sins of the father must be cleaned.” He repeated the mantra and got back to work.