Fenn’s boots left soft imprints in the dusty ground as he trolled the open market. They were soon blown away by a harsh breeze that sent his navy coattails flapping wildly. He attempted to keep his hat firmly on his head with his wide brown hand, but he eventually gave up and clutched it at his left side. Fenn easily navigated his way through the thin crowds who were thoroughly inspecting bushels of rotted apples, cracked and chipping dishware, and other such ‘treasures’ that the vendors on Greymalkin were pushing. Behind Fenn were two others. They were about twenty paces behind him, the two men, and both wearing heavy flap jackets that were zipped tightly to the neck. These jackets concealed their sidearms, which were strapped to the side of their waists. The larger, well, much larger of the two also had a semi-automatic rifle across his chest, along with five grenades.
Fenn stopped suddenly. The two men also came to a halt looked nervously at each other. This was not good, they knew, as they had been following Fenn for some time now, and he never stopped. He never got confused, always had a plan. They watched as he bent down to a bushel of oranges, and picked one that didn’t look too rotten. He started walking again; leaving orange peels in his wake, and his watchers took their pace again.
About ten minutes later, when they had left the market behind them, Fenn finally stopped at his final destination. Down a long and filthy alleyway, hardly visible through the windows that lined their path from the buildings on either side, was his entrance. Waiting at the wooden door, the two men finally caught up with him. The larger one unzipped his jacket and lowered his semi-automatic at the door.
“Cal, do Mr. Murchison the honor of announcing our presence.” Fenn and the other man jumped back as bullets tore through the lock and hinges. It fell inside, and they stepped though. The men on the other side were not ready, and they surrendered, their hands high in the air.
“What in the hell…” The other man and Fenn both had their pistols out and pointed at the man coming down the stairs, while Cal saved his repeating fire for anyone who wanted to be a hero and try to save their boss.
Fenn stepped forward. “Don’t take to kindly to being cheated, Murchison.”
“I, I don’t even know you!” Murchison’s veins rose in his temples and his eyes were close to popping out of his sockets.
“You might not remember me, I’m thinking’, but I sure remember you. Last night. You had an ace up your sleeve and then you had me and my boys’ coin in your pockets. Now, me and Jon here will be civil, but Cal,” he pointed to the large man, “Cal might not be as understanding as we are.” He smiled, and Jon had one playing at the corner of his lips. Cal just stared Murchison down as he pulled out a billfold with shaking hands.
“How much?”
“The whole thing.” The smile got bigger but Jon kept his face straight.
“That’s robbery!” Murchison shouted and his men scattered.
“Robbery’s an honest business. Cheating ain’t. And I really don’t care if there’s blood on my money, as long as it’s honest. Understand?”
Chatboard (0)