Kill the King by Eric Samson Page A

the
restraints around his arms and legs. Khaled approached the table
and grabbed both heavy bags with one hand while still using the
other one to finish his beer. Before heading out the door, Khaled
pointed at the large cooler that lay forgotten on the floor. Tyler
picked up the heavy box and plopped it on the table.
    “Shit, I forgot
about the cooler. Don’t head outside with the bags just yet. There
might be some more shit in here.”
    Finch’s legs
began to twitch. “Can. . .can I leave now?”
    Tyler shot back
an annoyed look. “I have to open this cooler first. Then you can
get out of here. ”
    Finch’s eyes
darted from side to side. Tyler opened the cooler, and his jaw
dropped at the sight of what was to be found inside.
    “What the fuck is this? Is this. . .is this blood? Khaled, come
see this!”
    Finch made a
desperate sprint out the kitchen, only to collide head-first into
the big man’s iron chest. The boy fell to his knees and bawled
uncontrollably, pleading for his life.
    “Please. . .I’m
so sorry. Please don’t kill me. Please don’t. No! No! No! N—”
    Khaled’s
massive hands clutched Finch’s throat and lifted him high off the
ground. The boy’s feet danced in the air as Khaled tightened his
grip. His face turned into a mess of purple and blue and his eyes
shot up with blood as he struggled to breathe. There was no
escaping Khaled’s crushing grip. It only took him a few more
seconds to snap the boy’s neck. Khaled dropped the lifeless body
head-first, making an ugly thud on the thinly-carpeted floor. Tyler
was deeply upset by the sudden turn of events.
    “Goddamn it,
Khaled! That wasn’t fucking necessary.”
    Khaled
shrugged. “It’s better this way. . .he’d never keep his mouth shut.
We’d have to trace him again and finish him. You know this.”
    “I wanted to
ask him about the cooler.”
    “What, that
thing? Who cares about a fucking cooler?”
    “That’s because
you didn’t see what’s inside the cooler, Khaled— I
did. There’s got to be a dozen red bags in there, all marked WB
or RBC, and with another label of either A, B, or O tacked on as
well. There are also a few bags of yellow shit with FFP labelled on
them too. Now, I’m not a fucking doctor, but they sure as shit look
like blood bags to me.”
    Khaled’s face
went pale. “Ugh. That’s gross, my friend. I don’t want to hear
about that shit.”
    “Yeah, well, I do. He could have been doing something with it on his own.
He could have been holding on to it for someone else. The Fourteens
may be up to something we don’t yet know about, but now it’s too
late because you’re a dumb fucking sheik. Goddamn it!”
    Khaled put his
hands in his jacket pockets and sulked. “Alright. I’m sorry,
okay?”
    “Forget it. Now
we have to get rid of the body. Give Cabrini a call and tell him
he’s needed right away, and see if Greene can give him a hand. This
dump needs to be cleaned. You don’t fucking leave until they’re
done, you hear me? Now, give me your goddamn keys. I need your
car.”
    Khaled grimaced
but did not protest. “Where you gonna go, my friend?”
    Tyler packed a
few large bills in his jacket pocket before grabbing both large
duffel bags. “I’m going to have to pay off the landlord again to
keep his mouth shut, and then I’m bringing this shit back to Marko.
I’ll tell him we’ve recovered the leftover merch and nothing more.
No need to tell him we had to squeeze Finch for the info, and we’re definitely not telling him we had to call for the cleaners.
Marko will get upset if he were to find out. That’s just between
you and me and the cleaners. You got that, Khaled?”
    Tyler didn’t
need a reply. Khaled knew who gave the orders between them.

    ****

    It didn’t take
the runners long to make it to Tyler’s apartment. Both were young
and unknown to him, but this didn’t bother him. From the looks of
it, his reputation preceded him quite nicely. They both stood at
attention and