Storm Prey

will kill the brothers Joe Mack and Lyle Mack from Cherries Bar. You got that? They understand business trouble; and they will do it. I told them, be safe, do it any way you can, but if you can, make it hard for them. One of my uncles, Timor, claims he once got the entire skin off a Hezbollah fighter before the man died, using nothing but a straight razor as a skinning knife. I don’t know if I believe he succeeded, but I believe he tried to do it.”
    They sat staring for a minute, then Barakat said, “I deeply hope you believe me, because it is true. Because you stupidly killed this man in the hospital, I think that you might try to eliminate me as a witness against you. Do not do it. I promise you, there are worse things than prison.”
    Lyle Mack’s eyes were popping out. He said, “You’re telling us that somebody else knows about the job? Maybe a whole bunch of people?”
    “No, no. They don’t know why they will kill you, only that they must,” Barakat said, shaking a finger at them. “For the family.”
    “Ah, crap, Al, we weren’t gonna hurt you,” Lyle Mack said, leaning back in the booth, putting on his best Bible-salesman’s smile. “I mean, you’re in as deep as we are, so we don’t have to worry about you talking. If the cops crack this, we’d all go inside for the rest of our lives.”
    “Yes. Well, I didn’t take the chance.” Barakat leaned forward again. “Now: I would not sell the merchandise here. In Minneapolis. The police will be looking for it everywhere, I am thinking.”
    “Let us worry about that,” Lyle Mack said. “First of all, we’ve squirreled it away—”
    “Squirreled? What is this?”
    “We’ve hidden it. Really good. Second of all, we have clubs all over the country. We’ll repackage the good stuff in a couple months, when the heat’s died down. Move it along to three or four different places, tell them to take care when they push it out on the street. Nobody’ll know where it came from. It’s not a problem.”
    Barakat stared at them for a moment, then leaned back, his eyes dark, and asked, “Where’s my payment?”
    Lyle Mack tipped his head at Joe Mack, who glanced around, then produced what looked like a brown-bag lunch and pushed it across the table. Barakat hefted it and said, “That’s no kilo.”
    “It’s a half,” Lyle Mack said. “We’ve got nothing so far, except some shit we’re afraid to move. Soon as we move it, you’ll get the other half.”
    “The deal was—”
    “The deal was that we’d hit the place, clean it out, start selling it two days later and pay you off,” Lyle Mack said. “But I don’t have thirty K sitting on a shelf, and this whole fucked-up guy, the guy who died, this has changed everything. Don’t worry: we want to keep you happy. But it’ll be a while. Maybe a couple months. No longer.”
    “Two months,” Barakat said. “All right, two months.” He stuffed the bag in his parka pocket, then said, “Here is something else for you to think about. Sometimes, you get hurt, you motorcycle people. And you do not want to go to the hospital, because then the police will know. I am one very good emergency room specialist. I can help you—and your friends, people you recommend—and nobody has to know about it. Think about that. I am of more value alive.”
    “You’re really worried,” Lyle Mack said.
    “Of course I’m worried,” Barakat said. “You killed this man out of stupidity. You could kill me out of stupidity. Or because you think you’re being smart. I don’t want your mistakes to kill me.”
    “Don’t know if I’d care to get operated on by a guy with a fuckin’ orangutan on his back,” Joe Mack said.
    Barakat’s eyes flicked to Lyle Mack, then back to Joe Mack. “Orangutan?”
    “Really big monkey,” Joe Mack said.
    Barakat shook his head: “What? Monkey?”
    “Forget it,” Lyle Mack said. “It’s an old American joke.” He stood up, jerked a thumb at Joe Mack, who pushed away from the table and stood.
    “See you around, Doc,” Joe Mack said. “Try to ... relax.”
    “Wait, wait,” Barakat said. “What about the woman?”
    “Just keep cool,” Joe Mack said. “We’re working on that.”
    “But what happened? I haven’t heard anything,” Barakat said.
    “You did just fine. The deal wasn’t quite right, and our man called it off,” Lyle Mack lied. “We’re thinking over some other possibilities. So stand by, and we’ll get back to you.”
    “I don’t