Chapter 5

Detective Tomayo came out of the darkness as he felt a blinding light against his closed eyelids. He groaned. The back of his head was expanding and contracting, and pain crawled up his neck over the top of his head and into his eyes like a beetle with red-hot feet. After a while, when he felt good enough to open his eyes, he opened it. The hard bright light blinded him for a second. He took a quick look around the room. He was lying on the settee, a rope had been tightened around his chest, pinning him to the couch, and a thick tape had been pulled around his wrists.

Everything in the room was in order and place except for him. He exerted a useless effort for a minute or so against the tape around his wrists and found there was no way of breaking free, so he lay still, panting a little from the exertions. It was then he remembered that the light in the living room had been out when he had come in. Wondering what was going on, he heard a slight sound at the window side and jerked his around.

That was when Tomayo saw him. A black-clad figure, standing by the window, looking out into the street, peeping around the blind. He must have known Tomayo was awake because he suddenly jerked his head to where Tomayo was, saw him staring at him blandly, and moved away from the blinds. As he moved towards the settee, Tomayo studied him. He was tall and powerfully built with massive shoulders and long, striding legs. He had on a ski mask on his face, a black jacket, tight-fitting black jeans, his hands were clad in black gloves, and he wore a heelless black boot. A black cross bag was slung across his chest.

“I see you're coming around," Razor said as he got to where Tomayo lay on the settee." glad you could join me. It's as been a bore since you took your long nap."

Tomayo swallowed hard. He stared at the black figure the way you will look at a dead rat in your closet. Nobody needed to him. This massive figure is frightening black was Razor.

“I’m sorry about the light," he said, grinning under the mask “I’m love being dramatic, forgive me. Since the age of twelve, I have always been like that when I fell off my bicycle and hit my head on the ground."

“No wonder you're crazy." Tomayo gritted out.

“Watch your mouth, detective. You won't want me to shove your nice white teeth through your head, right? "

“Razor, right?” Tomayo continued. “I know you must be feeling so hot under all this stuff wore. "

“What I wore is not your concern,” He seethed out. "Did you get my letters?”

“Lots of them," Tomayo replied. “I'm tired of reading them. Well, I kept them for you. You can take them away on your way out."

Razor gave a hard backing laugh. Then he crossed the room to an easy chair, picked it, places it right in front of Tomayo, and lowered his heavy bulk into it.

“I want you to listen carefully, detective. I won't repeat my words, and if I have to, it would be accompanied by a punch to the face. My punch does two things. It either knocks you out or kills you. So don't mess with me. I'll do the talking, and there's no room for any questions, got it? "

Tomayo stared at the masked face of Razor for a long moment. Right now, he felt like a cornered mouse

“I comprehend alright," he muttered.

“Good! I want you to lay off Kevin Carter's case.

What is between Kevin and me is between us both. I don't like your work, detective; it's beginning to be a bore on my part. Stay off the case, or I'll fix you."

Tomayo grinned tightly.

“You want me to stop helping, Mr. Carter? Alright, I will stop if you tell me why you murder those women? I will stop if you tell me what is it that you have against Mr. Carter? "

Razor grinned evilly.

“Kevin made me do it. He made me kill the woman I ever loved. He's got to pay. This is not your problem. I want you to stay out of this, stay out! "

“You said he made you kill the woman you loved? Will you tell who really she is? "

Razor shook his head.

“This is not interrogation time, detective. I am not telling you, jack."

“In that case, I can't stop helping Mr. Carter."

“Why?” Razor asked in a soft voice.

“I just can't," Tomayo replied unperturbed.

Razor grinned mirthlessly.

“You know, I could fix you right now without thinking twice about it. Since you're at my mercy, I believe you should value your life, or do you want to die? "

“People die every day, " Tomayo replied.” It's not a new thing. I believe you are scared of being captured. That's why you wear this damn mask on your face. Been captured means death for you. Why not show your face if you're not scared. "

Razor said patiently.

“Alright, if you can't stay off the case, that's fine with me. How about telling me who that woman I saw with Kevin his?"

A frightened glint jumped into Tomayo's eyes.

“What woman are you talking about?”

“There’s a new chick with Kevin. I saw her yesterday. I found out a lot about her. I heard her as ugly as sin. Something tells me you are connected to all these. Maybe you hook Kevin up with her or something. The thing is, I want to know who she is. Is it true she's ugly? "

Tomayo shook his head.

“I don't know anything.”

Razor studied his face. He knew the detective was lying.

" You had better start spilling your guts, or I will break every goddamned bone in your body."

“Go to hell!” Tomayo fired back. “I don’t know, jack. Think what you like, but all you're getting from me is nothing. Sorry, but I'm empty."

Razor shots up from the chair as if he had been stabbed with a bayonet. He began to wander slowly around the room. He didn't take his eyes of Tomayo's face. Suddenly he yelled out.

“Who is she?” he screamed. “Who the hell is that woman?” spill your guts, bastard! "

Tomayo swallowed hard.

“I don't know anything. As I said, I'm empty."

“That’s a lie!” Razor bawled. “That’s a bloody lie. You've been helping that bloody Kevin all this while. There's no way you couldn't have known who that woman is. "

“I don't know anything.” Tomayo said. “I don't even know what you are talking about."

A vicious glint jumped into Razor's eyes.

“I’m going to fix you, detective. Don't worry; you'll like it when I fix you."

Tomayo felt cold sweat break out on his face and his heart begin to give him a violent kick against his chest.

“You won't get away with this," he said, speaking evenly. “You fix a lawman, and you're gone! You'll become a fugitive! Do what you must do but better don't leave me alive, because if you do, I'm coming after you, do hear me? I’m going to hunt you down; then I'll nail you, you”

Razor made an angry gesture and pointed a gloved finger at him.

“You’re tough, detective. I'll give you that. But you're not rough. I'm very rough, and that's what makes me twice tougher than you. I'll show you what I mean “Then he began to move towards Tomayo, his movement slow and deadly, like a hyena stalking its prey.

Tomayo watched him move slowly across the room towards him, and he began to hear the frantic pounding of his heart against his chest. He couldn't say anything. His mouth was very dry, and his throat was paralysed. He lay there, looking at Razor how a rabbit will look at a snake slithering towards it.

When Razor reached him, he took out a dirty handkerchief from his pockets and shoved it into his mouth. Then he swung a violent punch and hit Tomayo on his ribs. That punch hurt like hell. Tomayo felt as if a block of concrete had hit him on the chest. He wanted to scream, but the handkerchief prevented him.

Razor looked at Tomayo's face glistening with sweat and smiled.

"It hurts, doesn't it?” he said. “Don't worry, by the time I'm done with you, you'll regret ever backing Kevin Carter on, “and he groped into his cross bag and pulled out a heavy lead piping. He raised his hand and began to club Tomayo's body savagely. The only sound in the quiet living room was the hard thrashing of Tomayo's body on the settee. A muscular reaction he had no control over.

***

A few minutes after seven o'clock a.m. Kevin came awake with a sudden start. He had been dreaming. His white pillow was damp with sweat. He lay still, listening, and then when no sound alarms him, he relaxed and moved further down in the king-sized bed, making himself comfortable. He heard a loud rap on his bedroom door. He stiffened. The knock came again, harder this time.

“Mr. Carter, please open up! I need to speak with you."

Kevin drags his finger through his thick hair. What does she want? He wondered. He got up from the bed, wore his dressing gown, and crossed the room to the bedroom door. Then he opened it.

Gina stood in the doorway, dressed in white shirt and black fitted pants. Her feet were bare. There was a bony, hard expression on her face. Looking at her, Kevin felt a shiver run up his spine.

“I’ve got bad news," she said. Her voice was hoarse and unsteady.

He looked sharply at her.

“Bad news?”

“Yeah!” she said. “Detective Tomayo was attacked in his home yesterday.”

“What?” he said. He felt as if he had been hit on the head with a hammer.

“I believed it was Razor," she said, her voice shaking. "It's worse. He's in a pretty bad shape."

Kevin swallowed hard. His body was cold with fear.

“Who told you all this?”

“Rogue called me," she said. “He’s one of the boys working for the detective."

Kevin nodded. He had heard the detective mention the name before. Razor! The name made his body recoiled with fear. If anything happened to the detective, he knew he was sunk. He dragged his mind away from his thoughts and looked at Gina's face. She was staring at him, but there was this bleak look in her eyes. It was as if she wanted to cry, but something was holding her. At that moment, he pitied her.

Gina saw the pity glint in his eyes and smiled stiffly.

“Don’t, Mr. Carter. I'm all right. I can handle this."

“What are we going to do now?” he asked in a shaky voice.

“I don't know, Mr. Carter," she said. “But one thing I want you to know is that this is for real. Razor is out there to get you. That is what we've been trying to tell you all this while."

Kevin wiped away the sweat which had beaded on his forehead.

“I think we should go and see the detective," he said. “Did Rogue tell you where the hospital is?”

Gina nodded.

“Yeah!” he told me. “I know the hospital like the back of my hand."

“Good!” Kevin said. “Meet me in the garage in ten minutes."

Gina said alright and went away. Kevin watched her go and grimaced. Then he dashes into his bedroom. Ten minutes later, already behind the steering wheel, sitting comfortably inside his Aston Martin, he watched Gina sauntered into the garage, her face hard as granite. She wore a blue shirt, tight-fitting black slacks, and black boots. On her face were dark sunglasses. The clothes made her look tough and very sure of her.

She looked around the vast garage, wondering where Kevin was, and then she heard a car horn and saw the headlights of the Aston Martin flickered on and off. She moved towards the car, jerked the door opened, and slid in. Kevin, who was still staring at her as she settled beside him, saw her reached behind her, and he froze with shock when he saw she brought out a handgun. It was very black, and it looked compactly big in her hand.

“Do…do you really need that? “He stuttered.

She turned to him and saw the fear on his face. She gave him a stiff smile.

“You never can tell, Mr. Carter. This little beauty comes in handy too. Don't worry; I know how to handle it."

Kevin stared at the gun for a long moment and nodded numbly. Then he fired the engine, floored the pedal, and drove away.

Thirty minutes later, Kevin drove his Aston Martin onto the parking space of the Miami City hospital and cut the engine. He and Gina slid out of the car and walked briskly into the hospital. They saw a fat, blonde woman in a hospital uniform behind a vast desk as they walked into the reception lobby. A mahogany plaque with the word receptionist in gold letters stood on the desk.

The fat blonde glanced up and beamed at them.

“Good morning folks, how can I help you?”

“We’ll like to see detective Tomayo Daniel's. He was brought here last night," Gina said.

The fat woman gave them a sad smile.

“I’m sorry, but the detective is intensive care room. You can't see him now."

“Look, we are very close to the detective. I'm sure he will be pleased to see us, “Kevin cuts in before Gina could reply to the receptionist.

"As I said, sir, visitors are not allowed. That was the instruction given to me," the receptionist replied, emphasizing her words this time.

Kevin narrowed his eyes at her.

“If you know what's best for you…” But he stopped talking when he saw a tall and powerfully built man in a police uniform walking towards them. He recognized the man as Rogue.

“Mr. Carter,” Rogue said, beaming with a smile. The two men shook hands while Gina looked on.

“The detective has been expecting you,” Rogue said. “Please come with me."

Kevin gave the fat receptionist a cold look before moving away. They followed Rogue through a well-lit hallway. On their way, Kevin and Gina met several nurses milling in and out of the rooms, their heelless shoes making little sounds on the tiled floor. They followed Rogue up to the first floor.

They got to a room door in which two powerfully built men stood at the entrance. Kevin recognized the two men as Smith and Billy. When they saw Rogue, they saluted him and stepped aside for them to enter. They entered a room where there was the usual hospital equipment, a nurse standing beside the bed, another powerfully built man, which Kevin recognized as Jake.

On the bed was detective Tomayo. Kevin and Gina stiffened with cold fear when they saw him. They could barely recognize him on the bed. His body was heavily plastered with thick white bandages. It was only his face that remained open.

Rogue nodded to the nurse. She replied with a weak smile.

“Five minutes," she said as she walked out of the room.

Kevin and Gina were silent for a long moment, their minds busy with thoughts. Rogue turned to them.

“I’ll wake him up," he said and moved towards the bed. He placed his hand gently on Tomayo's hand. His eyes flickered open, and he smiled weakly when he saw Kevin and Gina. Rogue moved away from the bed and went to stand beside Jake. Kevin held Gina's hand as he walked towards the bed. At that moment, it seemed like the natural thing to do.

“You’re awake!” Gina said in a low voice. She freed her hand from Kevin's and moved closer to Tomayo sitting by his side. She placed her hand tenderly on his face, soothing it lightly with the tips of her fingers. Kevin, who had thought she was incapable of feelings, watched her, a stupendous expression on his face.

Tomayo smiled weakly. His face was as white as the fresh fall of snow.

“Mr. Carter," he mumbled. “How nice to see you."

“I’m happy to see that you made it, detective, "Kevin said, moving closer to the bed. At that moment, he felt a rush of emotions for this man on the bed.

“Gina, I want you to be careful," Tomayo said slowly." Razor will not stop. You've got to be more careful. He did this to me because I didn't tell him why you were staying with Mr. Carter."

Kevin swallowed hard, his face glistening with sweat.

“I’m so sorry, detective," he said weakly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be," Tomayo mumbled. “Don’t be. I'll get through this. We'll nail him. We will.”

“Rest now," Gina said hoarsely, touching his face as if it were made of glass.

Tomayo smiled weakly at her, and he closed his eyes. Just then, the door opened, and the nurse came in.

“Sorry guys, times up," she said, moving closer to the bed.

Kevin drew in long, slow breath and grimaced. He looked at Gina, who was still staring hard at Tomayo's face. Then she looked at him. For that brief moment, he thought he saw something in her eyes; was it pity, regret? He was not sure. Then it was all gone. The plain, expressionless look was back on her face. She stood up from the bed, nodded stiffly to Rogue and Jake, who had been watching the whole time, and walked away, her hips rolling under the materials of her slacks.

Kevin watched her go, a bewildered expression on his face. Rogue came to him, and the two men walked out of the room together. When they got outside the hospital, Rogue brought out a pack of cigarettes, and the two men lit up.

“He messed him up pretty bad, “Rogue said as he drew smoke into his lungs.” Razor is a fucking psycho."

“How did you find out about this?” Kevin asked.

Rogue shrugged his powerful shoulders.

“I gave him a call last night. He didn't pick. That has never happened for the past two years I have been working with him. I knew something was wrong. Well, I rushed down to the house and saw him tied to the settee like a goddamned ram. He was in pretty bad shape. The settee was covered with blood. I called the medic, and here we are”

Kevin digested this piece of information.

“So, what's the next plan now?” he asked.

“We are going to move him to a safe house.” Rogue said. “That’s the best plan for now. This hospital is not safe. Razor might try to pull one of his stunts again. We can't let that happen. Boss told me he doesn't want a lot of heat on what had happened to him. He doesn't want the whole police force scurrying around for Razor. "

“Why?” Kevin asked.

“The psycho might bolt out of Miami if he's got a whiff, and we are itching to get our claws on him. That's why we are moving the boss to a safe house. It's safer that way. I will take his place while he's recuperating. If anyone raises an eyebrow, the story will be that detective Tomayo is on vacation. Smith, Jake, and Billy will be with him in the safe house."

Kevin nodded as he drew smoke into his lungs and let it out through his nostrils. He looked towards his glittering Aston Martin and saw Gina's face. She was sitting inside the car, waiting for him. He turned to Rogue.

“Do you know anything about her?” he asked, nodding towards his car. Rogue followed his gaze.

"Gina Rux?” he said.

"Yeah,” Rogue nodded and said, “She’s military. That I can bet my last buck on. The detective didn't say much about her. He only told me she's going to be helping him on a case. I presume it was you he was talking about."

This little information did not satisfy Kevin.

“You called her this morning, right?” he asked. “How did you get her number?”

“The detective gave it to me, " Rogue replied.

Kevin crushed out the cigarette and drew in a long slow breath.

“I know she's kind of related to detective Tomayo “He began.” But I need it to know more about her. We've been living together now for some days, and we don't get along fine. If I am to get along with her, I've got to know something's about her. "

Rogue moistened his lips with his tongue.

“Mr. Carter, like I said, I don't know much. But I'll tell you this; maybe it might help. One day, I and the boys and detective Tomayo were having a real lovely time. The detective just cracked down a smuggling case, and we thought we ought to celebrate. That night, we really set it off. You know what I mean, girls, lots of drinks, chain-smoking. We were having a really good time. Then the detective started saying some things. He told us he'd got a daughter in the army. A cold, hard, beautiful girl, he told us. He said when he says gorgeous, he meant smoking hot beautiful. Born and bred in the Bronx, very smart, good with guns, fast with cars, can handle her in any situation. Well, I figured maybe Gina Roux might be the girl he's talking of. "

Kevin thought about these for a moment.

“She might be the detective's girl, but there's a little snag to your story," he said.

Rogue looked at him sharply.

“What snag?”

“You said cold, hard beauty, right? Look at her; she's cold, she's hard, but she's nothing to call beautiful, at all."

Rogue stared at him for a moment. Then he turned his eyes to look at Gina then back to Kevin again.

“I could have sworn she was the one, Mr. Carter," he said in a resigned tone. “Well, I guess I'm wrong. She's no beauty. That can't be the detective's girl. "

Kevin nodded his agreement. "You betcha. Women are my turf, brother. Don't mess with me."

Rogue thought for a moment.

“Let say Gina's got a twin sister or the detective as got two girls? Maybe Gina is the ugly one, and the other girl is the pretty one which the boss is actually talking about, think about it."

“But he told you he's got a girl in the army and not two girls, right?” Kevin replied.

“Yeah, that I know. But you know I said that night the detective was a little intoxicated. It might be he wanted to say, two girls. You see, the boss doesn't really talk much, especially about his pasts. His mouth is always clamp shut like an oyster shell. So, telling us he as a girl in the army might mean a lot of things. He might have a girl in the army and another girl in the naval or marine corps."

Kevin brooded for a long moment.

“You might be right, you know," he said, nodding his head. “Hmm, I never thought of that. Though it seems like a long shot yet, it's got some possibilities in it. Good thinking, man."

Rogue grinned ruefully.

“Thanks, Mr. Carter. Well, I think this is where I say goodbye."

The two men shook hands. Then Rogue walked into the hospital while Kevin walked slowly back to his car, loaded with thoughts.

***

Notoriously known as Snitch, Abe Henson was a bulky man with grey, Icy eyes, tremendous shoulders, and short, thick legs. He was street-wised and extremely cunning and had often betrayed the trusts of people. Plethora crimes ranging from; pick pocketing, assault, car hijack, blackmail, smuggling, theft, burglary, hit and run, and bank heist was associated with his name.

Born and bred in the dirty slum of Harlem, hardened in the ghetto streets of Liberty City, Snitch was not a man to mess with. He was tough and deadly. In the past, the news of his prowess in handling dirty crimes operation reached the ears of the underworld men, and they began to seek his services. Within a little time, he became quite rich. But he had a problem. A problem that was to ruin him for good; Snitch was a real snitch The little money he had made got into his head. It made him lightheaded, and he began to snitch on the activities of the underworld men. He would reveal the secrets of one gang to another, then vice-versa. This led to great confusion among the Gangs of Miami. Later, one team was formulated to snuff out the person behind the clashes.

The team worked effortlessly, and they were rewarded. Snitch was found out as the culprit who had been sniffing out their secrets. A professional assassin was sent to finish him off. The assassin searched fervently for Snitch, found him, but he did the unthinkable. Instead of killing Snitch, he gave Snitch the opportunity to flee from Miami city. Snitch, his muscles fluttering with fear, did not even bother to think twice why this assassin had spared his life.

He had gathered his few earthly belongings, and with the money he had saved, he took the next flight to Mexico the next day. But life in Mexico City was harsh on Snitch. The Mexican language jarred on his nerves. The foods did not appeal to him. The hot sun was unbearable. There were no soft, easy jobs like the one he was used to in Miami. He only did odd jobs to sustain himself. The only thing that made him stayed for two good years in the Mexican city without going nuts were the women.

Snitch rolled in the hay with lots of them, especially the cheap, tired whores who prowled the back alleys of Beuna Vista. These women with their fine hair reaching their waists, their skin smooth, large, luminous eyes, heavy breasts, and solid hips drove him crazy. It was these same women that finished off his money. When his money had dwindled, nobody needed to tell him he had to return to Miami city; at least the heat would have cooled off. He assured himself. But he returned to the sweet-smelling city of Miami, a poor, broken man.

This night then, at exactly past midnight, in one of the dirty alleys of Liberty City, Snitch stepped out of a seedy brothel and began to lumber home drunkenly. He came out of the alley and stood on the sidewalk, his eyes roving around the quiet streets. The waterfront facing him was deserted. The smell of the ocean, the faint odors of fish, gasoline fumes, and tar hit his nostrils, and gladly, he inhaled it.

He moved away from the sidewalk and began to make his way home. Though he was drunk, the geography of the road to his home was etched in his mind like an engraving to a wall. He got to his apartment building and smiled wistfully. It was a dark, gray stone house, with dirty, untidy lace curtains at the windows. He entered the building, walked up four steps, and got to a well-lit hallway with a dirty rug.

He encountered a girl wearing a dirty white singlet and blue jeans ripped at the knees. Her unwashed hair fell to her shoulders, and her eyes were small and beady. When she saw Snitch coming her way, she gave him a gaudy smile, but his drunken mind was too foggy to register it.

“Hey, Snitchie boy," she said, pausing. “How’re the Streets today?"

“Get outta my way," he slurred, edging past her. "It's past your bedtime. What are you still doing up?"

Her smile went away.

“You are always drunk, Snitch," she said. “A goddamn drunk that wants you are.”

She went on, and Snitch went on. When he got to his room, he fumbled for his keys inside his pockets and dug it out. Then he opened the door and stepped in. The room was dark, small, and insufferably hot. He lumbered towards the switch and snapped the light on.

The room was a complete mess. There were saucers full of cigarette butts, and ash dotted all over the room.

Dirty glasses, a couple of empty bottles of whisky, and a half bottle of gin stood on the table. Dust lay over everything, and the empty fireplace was choked with a fall of soot. The rug was a dirty brown.

Snitch wandered into his small kitchen and moved towards the sink. He turned the tap on, and water began to rush out. He wet his face with water thoroughly, turned it off, and walked back into the dirty living room. He took off his shabby Jacket, took off his dirty Reebok sneakers, and stretched out on the only sofa in the living room. A few minutes later, he was fast asleep. He had not slept for five minutes when he became aware of a hand on his shoulders gently waking him up.

Damn! He thought angrily; I left that door opened again. What does that landlady want again? He hunched his shoulders, mumbling a protest, and then he tried to free himself from the persistently shaking hand Suddenly, a palm exploded on the side of his cheek with the noise like the bursting of a paper bag. It was a slap! A violent one. Mad with rage, Snitch's eyes flew open, his fists clenched; he bounced up from the chair with the reflex of a karate fighter, ready to clobber the perpetrator only to freeze into a white-faced, motionless silence.

Facing him was a tall and powerfully built man. The man had yellowed-colored eyes, a broken nose, and a hard, ugly mouth. Snitch stared at the face for a long moment wondering where he had known this ugly man. There was something familiar about the tallness and the massive built; the face was the problem. He couldn't pinpoint that face. His mind delved into the pasts, whirling violently, seeking answers. Then he stiffened.

“Razor?” he said.

Razor grinned wickedly.

"Yeah! It's been a long, snitchie boy."

“My God, what happened to your face?”

Razor shrugged.

"It's a long story, brother."

Snitch swallowed hard.

“How the hell did you find me?”

“I saved your life, remember? As long as you're in Miami, I'll smell you ten mile off."

Snitch nodded numbly. He touched his cheek, which was still burning from the slap, and his mind travelled back to the day the men of the underworld had sent Razor to fix him. The thought of that terrible night sent a spider of fear up his fat spine. On that day, he had been bedding a whore whom he had picked off the street when his room door had busted open, and a man had bustled into the room. The man was very good-looking and was immensely built.

Snitch had stared at the cold, handsome face of the man, shivering with fear. The man had pointed a gun at him and had told him his name was Razor, and he had been sent to fix him.

Thinking that was his last day on earth, Snitch had begun to offer a prayer to God in a language best known to him. But he had received the shock of his life when Razor had told him he would give him twenty-four hours to get the hell out of Miami city. Why did he spare me? He had often asked himself even when he was still holed up in Mexico City. And looking at Razor now, he wondered what had happened to his face.

“Stop staring at me like that?” Razor sneered, breaking into his thoughts. “Forget my face, won't we shake hands? "

Snitch turned his mind away from his thoughts and stretched his hand, which was clammy with sweat. The two men shook hands.

“This place looks like a damn shit whole," Razor said, looking around the room irritably. He moved to an easy chair and lowered himself in it. Snitch went to his shabby minbar and fixed drinks. He gave a glass to Razor and brought out a pack of Marlboro cigarettes from his pockets and a gaslighter. The two men lit up. They talked, or instead, Razor talked, and Snitch listened.

From some moments, Snitch couldn't believe what Razor was telling him.

“Hey, man! Kevin Carter? The millionaire? “He stared at Razor.” You want me to fix him? "

“Yeah!” Razor said. “Will it be too difficult?”

Snitch grinned, showing his nicotine-stained teeth.

“I believed there something you're not telling me. So far, so good; you're the best men out there. I don't know why you stopped working for the underworld men, but that is best known to you. Just why the hell does you want me? Come on, a least you owe me the truth. You could fix this job yourself, so tell me, why me? "

“You’re the best man for the job," Razor answered simply. “You’ve handled a lot of hot easy jobs like this."

“Bullshit!” Snitch replied. “You talk, or I don't do anything. I don't stick my head out for something I am not comfortable with."

“I could make you do it, you know?”

Snitch frowned.

“I know you could," he replied uneasily. “But telling me the whole drill about these operations makes my job soft and easy. You know I love soft jobs, don't you? "

Razor drew in a long slow breath. Then he began to give Snitch a blow-by-blow account of all that had he had done. When he was done, Snitch stared at him

“No wonder you wanted me!” he growled. “You fixed five women! Okay, that's cool. But you fixed Tomayo? That's not cool why that man is dynamite! He's poison to the likes of us. In the past, when am on any job, I avoided him like the plague. Did you kill him? "

Razor shook his head.

“I didn't kill him. I left him half dead. But I sure beat the hell outate him”

Snitch moved uneasily on the chair. He could feel cold sweat beading on his forehead.

“Look, you're going to get a lot of heat on this. Fixing that detective is like asking for real trouble. When that detective is back on his feet, that are if he is going to get back on his feet, he’s going to nail you. "

Razor leaned forward.

“There’ll be a lot of heat that I already know. But it won't touch me. But for me to stay clear of trouble, I'll need a diversion. You'll be my diversion. While the police are focused on looking for me, you will continue the job on the other hand. "

“So, you want me to clean up your mess?” Snitch gritted out.

“You can put it that way, “Razor answered.

“If I slip up, then the heat will be on me," he said miserably.

Razor shrugged indifferently.

“That’s why you can't afford to slip up."

Snitch stared at him, a wicked glint in his eyes. He downed the last whisky in his glass and fixed another drink. He tossed it down his throat, and the hot liquid scorched the inside of him and stiffened his nerves.

“There’s something I don't get," he said. “What got your face so messed up like this? Also, what did Kevin Carter do to you? Why kill the women he's seeing? Why not just kill him? "

Hell, Razor gave a hard backing laugh.

Lots of questions, my brother. But I'll tell you the one I can. I can't tell you what happened to my face. I don't want to remember the incident. It brings terrible memory.

Let me answer that of Kevin. You see, I kill those women to make him suffer, but now, I think he has suffered enough. It's now time for him to die."

Snitch gave him an odd look.

“You wanted to make him suffer, so you killed his girlfriends? Is that it? "

Razor nodded.

Snitch stared at him bewildered.

“What did he do?”

Razor drew in a long slow breath.

“I can't tell you anything."

Snitch brooded for a moment.

“Why can't you?” He asked.

"Don't ask me!” was the reply.

Snitch now became suspicious. He couldn't imagine anyone killing innocent people just to make another person suffer unless he had a nut loose.

“Why not just say you're killing these women for the fun of it, ain't it? Maybe it turns you on? "

“I killed them to make him suffer. Now that I'm satisfied, I want him dead."

“That’s crap, and you know it, “Snitch seethed out.” You love killing those women. It tickles you, doesn't it? Do you get a hard-on while killing them?

Razors face lost color, and he pointed a gnarled finger at Snitch.

“Don’t drag this. You're not a shrink. You can't be, and you never can be. Don't try to assume you know what turns me on or off, you fucking smartass! "

Snitch moved restlessly.

“Let’s skip the motive part. What's in it for me? “He asked as he twiddled the glass in his hand.

Razor shook his head.

“Absolutely nothing. You're doing this for me. You owe me Snitch. This is the time for payback. I saved your worthless life when I should I've killed you that night, and for me, that is a debt. You owe us. It's time to pay up. "

Snitch looked half-demented. He had suddenly found the answer to the question that had been running around his skull for the past two and half years.

“No wonder you didn't fix me," he bawled. “You kept me alive so that you could drop a load of trouble on my lap when you feel like. You must be cracked."

As Snitch said this, he watched Razor, and he saw Razor suddenly looking angry, which frightened him.

“Don’t let me blame myself for sparing you," he said his voice cold. “I only spared you because I know you will be useful one day. Today is the day. Will you do the job or not? "

Snitch began to sweat violently. He had to accept that this man, sitting before him, had only spared his life so that he could use him for a more sinister purpose. I'm goddamned collateral damage, he told himself.

“I’ve got to have something," Snitch said, hating the unsteadiness of his voice. “You can't leave me high and dry for a job like this”

Razor shrugged.

“If I had killed you, you wouldn't be talking right now. Y You'll be six feet below with worms and maggots crawling over you and making your body their bloody castle. Nothing for you, man. You do this job for me, or you don't."

Looking at the ugly face and listening to the hard, cold voice, Snitch realized Razor meant what he was saying, and to press him further could cause trouble. He gave up.

“Okay, man. I get the drill. Get the job done but no pay, right? I get it. Say no more. I guess I will have to find my square when I'm done. It won't be safe hanging around when I'm done with the job."

Razor studied his face for a long moment.

“I’ve got the feeling you are gonna mess up this job," he said. “I’ve got the feeling you gonna go there and do things your way.”

“What?” Snitch said furiously. “Are you telling me you can't trust me enough to knock off a man and a woman? Christ, this is bullshit! "

“Just don't mess this up. Do as you're told, and things will be fine."

“Come on, man, you can't tell me what to do. If you can't trust me with a job like this, then find another man

“Shut up, “Razor sneered” If you piss me off, I'm gonna fix you so bad even a damn good mortician won't be able to piece your remains together for a funeral. Now, let me tell you how I want it done. Are you listening? "

“I’m all ears," Snitch answered, smoldering with anger.

Razor leaned forward, his face hard and cold. He brought out a paper from his pockets.

“He’s got a penthouse in Key Biscayne. I've written everything you need to know about him down here. It would be easy to find him. Monitor him well; when you've got the chance, fix him. He got a woman with him, too; fix her. "

***

Kevin was in the living room, his face glued to the TV set. A soap opera was showing and having nothing to do; he had trained his mind on the show. He heard a door opened upstairs and slam shuts. A few seconds later, Gina wandered into the living room.

“Rogue called me just now," she said.

Kevin took his eyes from the TV set and looked at her. In light blue sweaters and tight-fitting black slacks that clung to her body like a second skin, she was standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips. If only she were…

“Did you hear what I said?” she asked again, noticing the way he was staring at her like a stunned rabbit?

“Yeah! Rogue. What about him?” he said abruptly, turning his mind away from his thoughts.

“He told me the detective had now been transferred to a safe house. He's in a safe house now recuperating."

Kevin could feel the happiness in her voice. He also felt some relief too.

“That’s good news," he said. “I’m sure Rogue and the other boys will take care of him well. Could we go visit him sometime, right? "

She shook her head.

“Too dangerous. Razor might be lurking around somewhere. More ever it's a safe house. It's supposed to be kept secret."

Kevin inclined his head.

“Okay, so we wait. “He paused and went on. “I’m so damn hungry. Can you rustle up something? “He asked, waiting for her to decline his request.

Her blue eyes flicked over him indifferently.

“Alright! I'll fix something," and she moved away, her hips rolling under the black materials of her slacks.

Kevin watched her go, her head held high, and her back stiff and arrogant. He was surprised that she had spoken to him. After they had left the hospital the other day, he had felt a kind of resentment energy from her. He knew psychology was not his turf, but the look on her face as he drove home told him she blamed him for what had happened to Tomayo. He heard her moving around the kitchen and drew in a long, slow breath. Maybe I'll make it up to her one of these days, he thought.

Thirty minutes later, Gina came out of the kitchen bearing a tray piled with plates. She moved towards the dining table and laid the table.

“Let’s eat," she called to him.

Kevin stood up from the settee and moved towards the dining table. He found the table well lay. There was brown rice, grilled chicken, mushrooms, chicken salad, and freshly squeezed orange juice. He discovered he was famished. He sat down and poured himself a cup of orange juice. Gina served him, and they began to eat.

"Your freezer is well stocked," Gina said, shovelling food into her mouth.

Kevin nodded his mouth full of food. This woman certainly could cook. The rice tastes good. The chicken was the best he ever had. Everything was done perfectly well.

“Thanks, “he said.” I go to the store occasionally to get some things. Even though I don't really cook, I hate the thought of having a big freezer with nothing in it."

"It's a good thing, you know," she said, spearing a chicken into her mouth. “It saves the trouble of looking for this and that”

Kevin was so hungry that he wolfed down the whole food on the plate. Seeing his plate empty, Gina asked him if he wanted more. He nodded eagerly. She served him, and he attacked the food again.

“Wow! I feel like a constipated camel," he said as he finished eating and sat back. “That was really something, Gina."

She narrowed her eyes at him. That was the first time he would be calling her by name. Kevin noticed the odd look on her face.

“What? Something I said? “He asked.

She gave him a weak smile.

“You called me by my name."

Kevin touched his full belly and smiled.

“Well, they say the ways to a man's heart his through food. I guessed you really knocked me over. From now on, I want you to call me Kevin. "

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he could see she was startled.

“Don’t you think that would sound so personal as if we've both got something going between us?”

Kevin shook his head.

“Calling me, Kevin means nothing to me. I'm tired of you calling me Mr. Carter. My secretary calls me by name, and I love it. If you don't call me Kevin, I would never answer to you calling me, Mr. Carter."

Gina brooded for a long moment. Then she lifted a well-pencilled eyebrow.

“Alright, do you enjoy the food? “Her voice was so soft as if she was afraid of what he would say.

Kevin beamed at her.

“It’s great! You're the first woman to cook for me in my own goddamned house. Lots of them have come here, but none can cook for shit ",

She regarded him for a long moment.

“Will there still be more?"

Kevin stiffened.

“What?”

She laid her fork down, put her elbows on the table, clasped her hands together, and rested her head on it. She stared at him, her eyes hard and glittering.

“What I meant to say is when this is all over; will you still bring more girls here?”

Kevin studied her for a long moment. Her eyes were boring so hot into his. He felt as if she could see into his soul.

“Yes!” he answered stiffly. “More will still come”

“Why not settle down with one?”

Kevin shook his head.

“I can't! The good ones I've met were only interested in me for my looks. The bad ones loved me for my money. And the others, well, I'd say they were just a bunch of lousy suckers. "

Gina sat still, watching him as he talked her face expressionless, and her eyes glittering.

“I’ve you hit it off with an ugly girl before?” she asked.

If Kevin was prepared for any question, she might have asked him, he was definitely not ready for this. He stared at her, his face white with shock.

“Why…did you ask?” the words tumbled out of his mouth.

She hunched her shoulders.

"It's obvious, of course. I can see you've got the hots for me, but my ugly face repulses you. That's why you've never made any advances at me."

Kevin guffawed.

“Who are you kidding? Who says I've got the hots for you? “He sneered.

“Don’t play hard," she said. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. It's so obvious. Be a man and admit. "

Kevin's mouth suddenly felt dry. He did not like where the conversation was heading too.

“Look,” he began in a shaky voice. “You’re really a nice girl, Gina. You're calm, you're a good cook, and you seem in control of yourself. But I don't have the hots for you. Get that into your head."

Gina suddenly grinned.

“That’s crap, and you know it."

Kevin shook his head. The cockiness in her eyes irritated him. He wiggled his finger at her.

“I can't stand an ugly girl. Make no mistake about that."

“Okay! We'll see about that," and she pushed her chair back, got to her feet, and came around the table moving towards him, a sensual glint in her blue eyes. As she walked towards him, Kevin sat there on the chair, his face white as clay.

“You better back off!” he hissed, but she seemed not to hear him.

She reached him and settled on his laps expertly like a striper. Kevin wanted to push her away, but his arms felt like lead. They both stared hard at each other. His body was rigid, and he could hear the thudding of his heart. She put her arms around his neck. His senses reeled as he inhaled the faint perfume of her hair and body.

He feels the warmth of her body pressing against him. He could feel the weight of her full breasts against his chest. Her lips found him, and she thrust her tongue into his mouth. He gripped her tightly, his blood singing in his ears. They were like this, straining to each other for some time, and then Gina broke away from him and stood up. She straightened her sweater and began to clear the plates.

Kevin sat there, his manhood hard and erect, throbbing with desire for her. He said fiercely.

“What’s the meaning of this? You can't just stop. "

She stopped what she was doing and stared at him, her eyes cold as ice.

“Don’t forget you can't stand an ugly girl. I was merely proving the point that it doesn't matter whether the girl is beautiful or not. The problem is everything you are, is between your legs," and with that, she walked away, waving her hips deliberately at him.

His eyes like twin explosives of rage, Kevin bit hard on his bottom lip until he tasted blood.

***

While all these were going on, Snitch was inside a rented shabby Cherokee jeep he had parked under rows of palm trees lined up the streets. With eyes glittering like wet pebbles, he had been watching the penthouse for the past three hours, looking out for anything that might foul his operation that night. But after watching the penthouse for some time and knowing that Kevin Carter was inside, he relaxed his muscles. He leaned back into the seat and drummed his hands on the steering wheel. Feeling a sudden need for a smoke, he brought out a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pockets and lit it with a gas lighter. He checked his G-shock watch. The time was past eleven.

He drew in smoke into his lungs and began to hum tunelessly. As he hummed, he was thinking fast and hard. So far, so good, he had mastered the whole drill of the operation. Knock Kevin Carter out! Knock the woman with him out! It was as soft and as easy as that. Finding Kevin's penthouse had not proven difficult for him. The paper Razor had given to him was well detailed. There was nothing about the man he didn't know.

Now, as he sat in the car, he wondered about what Razor had against this man that he wanted him dead. He had the feeling Razor was not completely honest with him. He felt he was being used as a pawn, and yet, he knew if he did not carry out the job, Razor would fix him. He rechecked his watch.

The time was 12: 00 a.m. He stubbed out his cigarette and flipped open his safe. He brought out a semi-automatic gun which he hastily shoved down his waistband. Then he wiped the sweat on his face with a dirty handkerchief and wore torn gloves on his hand. Satisfied, he stepped out of the car. It was a hot night, and the streets bathed in the hard white light of the big moon.

Snitch flexed his fingers and stretched his legs. Walking casually, his fat shadow lumbering ahead of him, hands in his pockets, he crossed the streets to the gigantic gate which housed the penthouse. He grinned wickedly as he regarded the entrance. Break-in was his specialty.

He waited, motionless, for five minutes. Finally, satisfied, he gathered momentum and jumped on the rails of the gate, and using the rails as a foothold, he began to climb. When he reached the top of the gate, he waited again patiently to be sure of his surroundings before sliding down to the ground. His breath whistling through his wide nostrils sweat rolling down his fatback, he waited again and regarded the penthouse. Bright lights gleamed in most of the windows. Instinctively, he knew Kevin was still awake. He brought out his gun, snaked back the safety catch, and with a face glistening with sweat, he moved toward the house.

***

Kevin was sat on the settee, seething with anger as he waited for Gina to clear away the dishes. As he thought of her, a primitive animal lust for her gripped him so much that he felt blood rushing to his loins. The sudden realization that he had been cooped up in his house for so many days without a woman hit him with shocking violence.

He drew in a long, slow breath and grimaced. She knew his weakness. She had baited him, played upon his weakness, and humiliated him. Well, I can't do without a woman, he told himself, I've tried to control myself, but I can't.

He stood up from the sofa and began to prowl around the room. His heart was beating fast as he thought hard about what he would say that would hurt her. He heard her turn off the dishwasher, and he quickly moved back to the sofa, picked up a GQ magazine that was lying carelessly on the table, and began to flip through the pages. On his face was a fake, relaxed look.

Gina came in from the kitchen. There was scraped, bony look on her face, which made it look like it had been chipped from marble. They look frightened, Kevin

“I’m turning in," she said, not even looking at him. “We’ll talk tomorrow."

Knowing that he might never have this opportunity to say his mind, Kevin gritted out.

“Don’t play with me like that again."

This time, she turned her face to look at him. The coldness of her eyes warned him she might do something dangerous if he dragged the issue.

“What did you say?” she asked in a soft voice.

Kevin shrugged his shoulders.

“Nothing serious. I was just saying if you knew all this time I wanted you, why didn’t you do something about it."

She gave him a cold smile.

“I don't want you, Kevin."

“Look…" he began, but she motioned for him to be quiet.

“There’s someone on the roof," she hissed under her breath.

Kevin wanted to tell her it was probably her ears playing tricks on her, but the hard granite of her face, the cold set of her eyes, and the tightness of her mouth told him this was not a joke.

“Are you sure?” he asked, watching her closely.

“We’re not alone! “She replied. “Damn! I left my gun in the bedroom."

A cold fear snaked up Kevin's spine.

“Maybe it's a bird," he said hoarsely. “Or a lost cat.”

“Don’t be foolish," she said under her breath. “If it was an animal, I'll know. I wished I had my gun."

Kevin listened, and then he heard the scraping of feet on the roof as if someone was dragging something heavy. There was someone on the rooftop, alright. He stiffened into a horrified stillness and looked at Gina. She was also staring at him, her eyes cold and hard.

“Is there a way in from the roof?” she asked in a quiet voice.

Kevin hesitated. He wanted to say no, but he had a feeling no might not be the answer. Then he remembered. He had forgotten to cover the hole Hell Razor had created on the rooftop the night he had killed Debbie.

“Kevin!” she said sharply. “Is there?”

“Yes! Yes! “He answered frantically.” There's a hole on the roof. "

“Shit!” she growled. “I can't go upstairs. That bastard is already inside. I'm sure of it. You should have covered that damn hole."

“Is it Razor?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. “She answered. “But it might be him."

Kevin went cold. His mouth felt so dry. He heard a door upstairs squeaked a little. He had a feeling it was his bedroom door, but he was not sure. They both listened to the heavy footfalls of a man coming down the stairs. It was as if the intruder wanted them to know he was in the house. If the man intended to frighten them, he had succeeded.

The heavy footsteps came down the stairs and stopped outside the lounge door. Then there was silence. Kevin’s face was wet with sweat. He turned to look at where Gina stood, and his mouth gaped open. She was not in the living room.

He was still wondering how she could have slipped away without him knowing when he saw her dart out of the kitchen, a big knife in her hand. The light of the overhead lamp fell on the knife, and the blade glittered. Then she did something which he would never have expected her to do, something that made cold sweat roll of his body.

“Hey! Stinker! “She bawled.” We know you're in the house. Don't play any funny game, or you'll get it! "

There was a long, unbearable silence you could lean on, and then they heard a hard barking laugh and a voice from the doorway. A hard voice that chilled Kevin's. Body.

“You better don't try anything stupid. I've got a gun right here. It's as big as cannon. I’m very good with it. Don't think I won't hesitate to fix you."

Kevin swallowed hard. He watched with shock as Gina shoved the knife into her waistband. The sweater she wore flattened the knife to her belly. She moved towards him, where he stood transfixed, grabbed his hand, and propelled him to the sofa. He sat down heavily. A whisky glass was shoved into his hand.

" Come on, pull yourself together," She gritted out." Don't let him see you this way."

Kevin nodded numbly. He gulped down the whisky, shuddered as it stiffened his nerves, and made water come into his eyes.

Just then, Snitch came into the room. His mouth was fixed in a little smile, and the gun in his hand looked big and black. Kevin, his face white as clay, stared at the dirty, short, and powerfully built man who walked into the room. Gina was sitting in an armchair, a cigarette burning anxiously in her hand. Her face was calm and expressionless.

“Thinking who I am, right?” Snitch said watching, Kevin's face closely. “You’re right! I'm not Razor. He told me he's been troubling you for some time now. No wonder you look so goddamned spooky. "

“If you're not him, then what do you want?” Gina asked as she drew smoke into her lungs. She was looking at Snitch the way you look at a dead rat in your closet.

Snitch turned to her, his eyes glittering, a smirk on his face.

“You must be Joan of Arc," he said sarcastically. “I’m here to fix you. Both of you."

Gina smiled coldly at him.

“If you want to shoot, then shoot.” she paused and went on, “And if you want money, Kevin's got a whale of it. Isn’t that right? “She asked, looking at Kevin now.

“Yeah! Lots of it," Kevin said through locked teeth.

A greedy glint jumped into Snitch's eyes.

“How much are we talking about here?” he asked, watching their faces closely.

“A lot!” she answered casually. “Name your figure."

The word figure began to run around Snitch's greedy skull. Since he was not paid for the operation, he thought, and then making money out of it was not really a bad idea. He moved towards Gina and shoved the gun into her ribs.

“Hey! Upon your feet! “He snarled.” Seems you're the boss chick around here. That wimp looks like your call boy," he said, gesturing at Kevin.

Kevin's face twisted with anger, but he did not say anything. Gina got to her feet, her face cold and hard. Kevin was staring at her. He could tell she was playing a sort of game, and she wanted him to play along. Snitch too was watching her closely. There was something about her plain, expressionless face that warned him she was really dangerous. She turned to Kevin.

“You’ve got a safe, right?” she asked, looking at him.

Kevin nodded.

“How much is in it?” she asked.

Kevin hesitated. Seeing his hesitation, Snitch bawled at him.

“Answer her, you gutless insect! How much is in there? "

“I can't really say, thousands of dollars and some few pounds, maybe," he said, his voice trembling.

“It’s got a code, right?” she asked.

Kevin swallowed hard and nodded.

“Give me the code," she said.

“No, Gina!” he said, leaning forward, his fists clenched. “He will take the money and waste us."

Gina pretended to look surprised. She glanced at Snitch.

“Is that true?” she asked.

Snitch shrugged indifferently.

“That’s the way it does gonna be, sweetie pie. I fix, I scram. That's what I do."

She looked at Kevin.

“Tell me the code to the safe. He's an honorable man. He won't kill us. He's only after the money. "

Snitch sniggered.

“You seemed to know what I can do and what I can't. Have we met before?” he jeered at her.

Gina gave him a cold smile.

“I don't think so.” She paused and went. “In that safe upstairs, there's a lot of money. I mean lots of it. If you grab the money and blow, you still got the chance to enjoy the money. But if you kill us and grab the money. You won't be able to enjoy that money. The cops will breathe down on your neck and hunt you for the rest of your life. Think about it."

Snitch thought about it. He gnawed at his lower lips, his eyes thoughtful.

“Maybe you're right," he said finally. “But Razor told me to fix you, and I can't just crawl back to him without doing anything."

“Razor sent you?” she said casually.

Snitch made an impatient movement.

“Forget Razor already. How about that dough we talk about? "

Gina nodded.

“You’re right. Razor is not the problem here. But I think you should think of yourself first. This kind of chance comes once in a lifetime. Don't blow it away."

“Alright!” Snitch said evenly, “I get the dough and scram. Tell Mr. Carter to give up the code."

Gina turned to Kevin. She winked at him so quickly that Snitch, whose heart was beating fast as he thought of the money that was to come to him, did not even see her.

“Kevin! The code!” she said.

Kevin licked his lips then he began to mumble out a series of numbers. Snitch, whose brain was already cramming the digits, lowered his gun. That was the moment Gina had been waiting for. With the speed of a striking snake, she hit Snitch on the side of his face, putting a lot of steam into that punch. For a woman, she could hit pretty badly. Caught off guard, Snitch fell on both hands and knees. The gun, black and gleaming, lay beside him. Kevin leaped forward to grab the gun.

Mad with rage, Snitch staggered up, but Gina was waiting for this. She gave him another solid punch on his face. He cannoned into the wall, but he used the momentum to bounce back and hit Gina powerfully on her face. She wasn't built for a solid punch like that. She yelled as she went down and sprawled out on the white rug.

Blood running down his nose, Snitch moved towards her. Then he froze. Kevin was pointing a gun at him.

“You dare hit a woman, you cheapie," he snarled. “Hands in the air!”

Snitch flung up his short hands.

“You can't shoot me!” he said thickly, “The trigger is jammed. Check it, fool!"

Kevin took his eyes away from Snitch to look at the gun. In that single instance, Snitch made his move. He leaped forward, raised his sinew elbow, and gave Kevin a crushing blow on the side of his face. Kevin flung wildly into the sofa. He thought a horse had kicked him. He sat limply on the couch, totally stunned, myriads of Technicolor flashing before his eyes.

Snitch's lips pulled off his nicotine teeth in a vicious snarl. The gun lay by Kevin's feet. He moved towards it and bent down. As he was about to pick it up, his built-in instinct for danger sent a zing of electricity up his spine?

He jerked his head up. Gina was grinning wickedly at him. In her hand was a knife with a glittering blade. With the way she held the knife by its handle that told him she was very good with it. Snitch knew he had two choices. Pick the gun and get fixed or back away from it and still get a chance to leave. At that moment, cold fear washes over his fat body. Like a cornered animal, he rose to his feet and straightened.

They stood like that, staring at each other for a long time. Then he saw a vicious glint jumped into her eyes. This bitch will fix me, he thought. He should have picked the gun. His mouth opened to scream as she swung her hand in a lightning arc and threw the knife at him. Reflexively, he flung up his hand to protect himself. The knife flew towards him, and the blade drove forcefully into his right hand.

The velocity of the knife and the sudden shock of pain that ran up his arms threw him to the ground. He yelled like a wounded lion, sobbing, and screaming with rage and fear. His blood ran through his fingers and began to form a dark scarlet patch on the rug. As the pain subsided a little, he glanced up and saw Gina moving slowly towards the gun. For that split second, he knew what she was thinking.

“Don’t be a fool," he gritted out through clenched teeth. “I’m gonna fix you so badly if you go for that gun.”

She hesitated a moment, watching him the way a jungle cat watches its prey. As she stood there, Snitch knew she was calculating the distance, thinking if she could pick the gun and still use it on him. That little moment gave Snitch a bit of courage. With every ounce of strength he had, he drove the knife out of his hand, yelling with pain as the knife came off. Then he hastily scrambled to his feet. Gina did not waste that chance.

She dived for the gun, snatched it up, lay flat on the rug, and aimed the gun at Snitch, who was still holding the knife in his hands.

Dazed with the pain and loss of blood, he threw the knife at her, spun on his heels, and ran for the door which led upstairs. Gina rolled away as the knife blade flew towards her. Then she fired. The slug smashes into the woodwork of the door panel, splintering woods just as Snitch ducked out through the door. He didn't look back. He flew up the stairs, his head down, his shoulders hunched.

Gina jumped to her feet and charged after him. She reached the head of the staircase and stood for a moment glaring along the passage that led to the bedrooms. Then she heard the scuffle of footfalls on the roof. Having no idea where the maintenance hole was, she muttered a curse under a breath. Then she had the sudden idea that she might still catch up with him outside if she used the front door.

Bracing herself, she ran down the stairs and ran into the living room. As she rushed towards the front door, she shot a quick look at Kevin. He was sitting on the sofa; his arms flung wide, his head tilted up, his eyes shut, his mouth opening and closing. She breaks off speed. She felt a cold clutch of fear at her heart as she slid towards him. She felt for his pulse. It was beating normally. She relaxed a trifle.

“Mr. Carter!” she said, tapping his face gently. “Are you alright?”

For some moment, Kevin was like that, and then he opened his eyes. He felt blood starting from a gash of a wound on his face. He shook his head, the raging pain he was feeling turning him sick. He shook his head again, trying to get rid of the dancing lights. Then he stared up and saw Gina's face very close to his.

“Kevin!” Gina said and caught her breath sharply. “Your face. My God! You’re bleeding.”

“Don’t fuss," he muttered. “That’s bastard sure knocked me out. Don't fuss. Where's he? "

“He’s gone. Stop talking!” She said tightly. “You’re bleeding. I'll fix you up."

The quiet, firm voice made shut him up. He sat on the sofa, and she went upstairs. A few seconds later, she returned with a medic kit. Then she went into the kitchen and returned a bowl of water in her hand. With expert and completely impersonal hands, she wiped the blood off his nose and mouth.

When she was done, she returned the medic kit and the bowl to their rightful places and returned to the living room; looking at him, Kevin, who was watching her the whole time, touched his face gently.

“You did well," he said.

“Thanks. But right now, you need to rest," she said, folding her arms across her breasts.

“You really clobbered that man," he said again." Where did you learn to punch like that? "

She did not answer him. She only came over to his side, and, putting her arms around him, she helps him up from the sofa.

“Please, Gina," he said huskily. “I really want to know."

“In the army," she said. “I was in the army for a while. We've got to cover that hole."

“I’ll do it tomorrow," Kevin said in a weak voice. “Don’t worry about it."

They walked together to the door, his arms around her shoulders. They paused while she snapped off the light, then in step, they mounted the stairs.

***

Like a mad man, Snitch uncouthly drove the old jeep to the cheap motel where he rented a cabin. The motel was on a dirt road three miles from Miami city. He got there, stumbled out of the car, slammed the door shut, and wobbled to his room door. His hand was dripping anxiously with blood, and it left a trail behind him.

He got to his room door and fished out the key with an unsteady hand. As he was about to slide the key into the hole, he saw that the door was already open. Instinctively, he knew someone was inside the room. Knowing that he might bleed to death, he threw caution to the wind and turned down the door handle. He stepped into the small, airless room. He swore under his breath when he saw Razor's massive frame in an easy chair, a whisky glass in one hand, a cigar burning in the other hand.

“So, it's you,” Snitch croaked, his face green with pain. “Crawling into my crib like a goddamned spider " he crossed the room to the whisky bottle on a mahogany table.

Razor watched him irritably.

“You bastard! “He bawled. You stink of failure! "

Snitch ignored him. Right now, he was more concerned about stopping the blood that seems to drip continuously from his hand. He grabbed the whisky bottle, used his teeth to snap off the lid, took a long swig, drew in a long, slow breath, and pours the whisky on his hand.

The whisky drink reacted at once. It sent a surge of white-hot pain through his arms. He yelled out like a wounded animal. The shout echoed through the room. Even Hell Razor shut his eyes and cringed in his chair.

Sobbing and moaning, Snitch sloshed some of the whisky to his hand. He watches as the whisky mixed with blood dripping from his fingertips to the ground, forming a brownish puddle around him. He stood there for some moment, gasping, his body shuddering with exertion. Feeling a little relieved, he shoved the whisky bottle under his armpit and moved away from the table. His wobbly side-stepped Razor, who was watching him closely, and flopped hard on the bed.

“What the hell happened?” Razor seethed out. “What went wrong out there?”

Heaving heavily, Snitch tried to sit upon the bed, but the pain in his hand absorbed all his strength and he fell back.

“I need a smoke!” he growled. “Don’t just sit there! Fix me something! "

Razor got to his feet. He brought out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and shook one out. He moved towards the bed and grabbed Snitch by his shirt front. He put him in a sitting position, shoved a cigarette into his trembling mouth, and lit it with a gaslighter. Snitch dragged hard on the cigarette and released a wisp of smoke that spiral to the dirty white ceilings.

“Will you talk now?” Razor asked, still holding him by the front of drenched shirts.

Snitch nodded.

“Kevin’s girl is crazy! She fixed my hand," he said, showing Hell Razor a jagged, deep cut in the palm of his right hand.

Razor stiffened.

“The woman with Kevin did this? Who the hell is she?”

Shuddering and trembling, Snitch told him the whole story, leaving out the part where he had tried to demand money from Kevin. When he was done, Razor moved away from him, folded his hands behind him, hunched his shoulders, and began to prowl around the room.

“You’re sure that woman with Kevin did this to you?”

Snitch nodded.

“She fixed me alright! I tell you, that woman is psycho."

Razor licked his lips and brooded for a moment.

“I think I understand this whole thing," he said. “That stupid detective is using her to protect Kevin. She really must be something if she could. I've done this entire thing, you say. Is she ugly?” he said, turning to Snitch.

“She’s got a bat face!” Snitch said harshly. “Damn ugly bitch!”

Razor inclined his head.

“I thought as much. That detective is really something you know. He had thought about all these. He had figured out all the angles. He knew I was only interested in killing any beautiful woman I see with him. "

“What are you saying?” Snitch asked.

“I’m saying that woman that did this to you is not an ordinary woman. She's protecting Kevin. She was planted there by that stupid Tomayo. You see, he wants to beat me in my own game. He knows if the woman I see with Kevin is not beautiful, I won't do anything. I wouldn't strike. “He paused and then went on, "Kevin Carter is protected by this woman; an efficient woman who can defend herself in any situation. A woman that stupid bum will not fall in love with. Damn! Tomayo, you are good! The only thing is that now, I'm ready to strike Kevin dead. I don't give a damn about any woman with him again. Now! I want to end this once and for all. "

Snitch, who had been listening to him as he talked, snarled.

“You should have been the one there. You should have been the one gutted by a knife."

Razor grinned wickedly.

“You’re a lab rat, Snitch. I needed to know who I'm dealing with. That's why I used you. I'd have to love to use you again, but with your messed up hand, you seem of no use to me."

Suddenly frightened that he was going to kill him, Snitch sputtered out.

“Give me a second chance," he said hastily. “I can fix this. I underestimated them. I won't again. Let me fix this. Tomorrow morning, they'll be dead meat."

Razor regarded Snitch the way you will look at a sudden coffee stain on your shirt. The sweaty face, his soiled shirts, his blood-encrusted hand, the acrid smell of stale sweat of the room made his senses reeled.

"Alright, fix it!” he said and moving towards the room door. “And fix it fast!”

Snitch watched him go and dropped back on the bed. He was so exhausted he slept the sleep of the dead.