Kill the King (2 page)

Tyler
maintained a stoic demeanor, but behind his calm face his teeth
were tightly gnashed to the point of cracking under the pressure.
The mere threat of this fate made Tyler feel the blood pulsing
through his veins and the taste of bile rising in the back of his
throat.

Fifty years.
Fifty years in the Block. Fifty more years of the void. An eternity
of nothingness.

“Now, I
understand that this is a very stressing dilemma to you. . .either
you give me what I want or I send you back to the SCU, but
collaborating with me would earn you a death sentence if word got
out. The big difference however is that if you give me what I want,
you might indeed survive the consequences. If you do
not
give me what I want, the remainder of your life will be spent
wishing you hadn’t made such a grievous mistake. Just to be fair
however, I will give you a moment to think it through.”

Never
betray.

Dr. Nieuwendyk
opened one of her desk drawers and pulled out a delicate cigarette
case and a shiny brass ash tray. She lit a cigarette and puffed a
few drags, her eyes fixed on her cornered prey.

Fifty years in
the Block. Fifty years of silence. Fifty years of living death.

“You have until
the time I finish this cigarette to reach your decision. All I need
is a name, Mr. Kwan. Give it to me, and your future will be far
better than what’s in store for you if you don’t.”

Never betray.
Fifty years. Never betray. Fifty years. Never betray. Fifty years
of piss, shit, rats, and roaches.

The warden took
another few puffs, calmly assured that he would crack just like the
others. Some cracked more quickly, while the more stubborn ones
like Tyler took more prodding. The cigarette trick never failed as
a last resort. A little bit of fire and smoke could destroy any man
if used properly. Only another puff or two and the fire would reach
the butt and extinguish.

Tyler knew that
if this left the room, he wouldn’t last three days in General
Population. He slumped in resignation.

“Marko Boreta.
His name is
Marko Boreta.
”

Dr. Nieuwendyk
was satisfied at last and butt out her cigarette in the ashtray.
She flashed another toothy smile, triumphant in victory.

“Now that
wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Fifty years in
the SCU. Fifty years of solitary confinement. Fifty years in the
Block. Fifty years of torture. Fifty years of pain. Fifty years in
the black hole.

She nudged at
her associate to hand Tyler her case of cigarettes, a lighter and a
small table to rest the ashtray. With everything laid before him,
she nodded her head in encouragement to help himself. Tyler lit a
cigarette and took a deep puff with his eyes closed, letting out a
cloud of smoke from his throat as if he just took his first breath
of air after nearly drowning. For those few seconds, he felt safe
and free. It felt like a taste of freedom, however meagre it
was.

The Block. If
Marko saw what it was like in there, would he forgive me?

“Please smoke
as many as you like, Mr. Kwan. We still have more to discuss, now
that we’ve firmly established who is in control of this
conversation. From now on, there will be no more fucking around
with me and Mr. Rickards. Time is of the essence, and I have an
offer for you that I think will be worth your while.”

Tyler lit
another cigarette, treating it as a last meal of sorts. For all he
knew, it may very well be the case. “I can’t help but feel like
it’s not really an offer that I have the option of refusing,
Warden.”

Dr. Nieuwendyk
snickered at his audacity. He was exactly the man she was looking
for. “How astute of you! I will concede to you that it’s a
one-sided offer of sorts, but I assure you that there is still
something in it for you. I want you to do a job for me. If you
succeed you can consider yourself a free man.”

Tyler scoffed
at the notion and lit yet another cigarette. If she was going to
drag him down to hell, he was going to at least go down smelling
like a free man. He listened to her attentively but did not believe
the absurdity of her proposal.

“The job is
difficult but rather simple in its essence: Marko Boreta is a
powerful and dangerous man, and he needs to die. I want you to be
responsible for that death.”

Never
betray.

“People have
tried that many times, Warden. The man refuses to die.”

Dr. Nieuwendyk
got off her chair and casually walked up to Tyler, grabbed a
cigarette off the small table and gestured Tyler to light it for
her, which he reluctantly obliged. She then took a few leisurely
puffs before she could reveal her grand plan.

“Indeed, Mr.
Kwan! That’s one his nicknames, isn’t it?
The Man who Refuses to
Die
. It sounds almost mythical. Then again, you are a very
special case. . .and that’s why you will succeed where others have
failed. You and Boreta were close. You were among his most
cherished friends, and in some ways you appear to have been akin to
a protégé of sorts to him. For precisely this reason he will not
suspect you. He values loyalty above all—even money. The thought of
you betraying him would never cross his mind.
Kill him
, and
I will personally shred every document bearing your name and delete
every file mentioning you. You will vanish into thin air.
Free
air.”

Tyler’s eyes
tightened in suspicion as he glared at her through the thin cloud
of blue smoke that veiled her face.

Break the one
rule that must never be broken, or fifty years of misery. What a
great fucking choice I’m being given.

“Say that I do
kill him, what assurances do I have that you will do what you’re
offering me?”

She smiled a
malicious smile. “Well you don’t, really. This is an unfair
bargain, of course. The reasons why I need Marko Boreta dead are of
no concern to you, but I’ll be frank and admit that they’re not
particularly altruistic. All you have is my word. . .and the
promise that if you
refuse
this offer, I’ll send your ass
back to the Block and you’ll never get out alive.”

I can’t go
back. I can’t go back.

The warden
leaned in closer, almost face to face with Tyler.

“Now, to
reiterate:
do not fuck around with me
. We’ve wasted enough
time as it is. I’m giving you a chance to win your freedom. All you
have to do is kill him—
kill
Marko Boreta
. You’d be
wise to accept my offer. So. . .are you
in
, Mr. Kwan, or are
you
out?”

Never betray.
Fifty years in the Block. Kill the man who refuses to die, or kill
myself every day forever. The world just can’t give me a fucking
break.

Tyler closed
his eyes and stifled his urge to let out an audible groan. Were he
to die trying to kill Boreta, he’d at least have a last chance of
freedom. Anything seemed better than the Block.
Something
was still better than
nothing
.

“I’m in.”

The warden butt
out her cigarette and walked back to her desk to be seated.

“You will be
leaving immediately with Mr. Rickards to begin your assignment. We
have a van waiting for you outside to escort you back into the
city. From then on, you will have a week to accomplish your
assignment. If you fail, we will hunt you down and send you back to
the Block. You are to speak to no one of our arrangement or the
deal is off. I suggest you don’t take too long either. After all,
Marko Boreta is someone who refuses to die, just as you so aptly
said to me.”

With those
words, Dr. Nieuwendyk dismissed Tyler and her associate with a
back-handed wave. She had more work to do. There was always more
work to do.

****

It took
slightly more than an hour’s drive before the large black van
dropped Tyler off just by the outskirts of town. This late into the
night, only the dregs were still prowling the streets and they knew
well enough to stay away from the innumerable predators lurking
around every other corner. The vehicle halted near a group of
nondescript abandoned warehouses that lined the rustbelt
neighbourhood.

“You have seven
days to hold your end of the bargain, Kwan. Don’t waste my time,
and don’t even think of bailing out. I have eyes everywhere and I
will know exactly what you’re up to from here on out.”

With those
words of warning, Tyler hopped out of the van and set foot on rough
gravel for the first time in many years. He almost lost balance
when he stepped out, his feet no longer used to stepping on
anything other than tile floors and smooth concrete. Only a few
paces later, Rickards rolled down his window and tapped on his side
door to get Tyler’s attention.

“One more
thing. . .just so we’re clear on the timeframe, this is already Day
One. You’d better get your shit together soon, or I’ll send your
worthless ass back to the Block myself.
Do not fail.”

The van then
made a sharp U-turn and sped off. Tyler was free but the clock had
already started ticking. He was living on borrowed time and there
was not a moment to lose.

****

No money, no
wheels, no weapons, and stuck in the factory district way past
midnight. It’s a nice way to come back home.

And yet, he had
arrived home nonetheless; the chipped asphalt, the rusted fire
hydrants, the boarded-up windows, the flickering street lights. The
damp fog that spewed out of the manhole covers. It was a taste of
glorious squalor. A beautiful festering dump. Home again at
last.

Tyler quietly
and cautiously strode from one block to another, trying to find the
sign of a familiar street to help him navigate back to where he
belonged. The thick wet autumn fog made it harder for him to make
out the street signs. Thankfully there were only a handful of
junkies and johns prowling at this hour and they were too busy with
their own vices to draw any attention to him.

“
I have eyes
everywhere,” he told me. Anyone can be on his payroll for all I
know.

It took several
more blocks to traverse before he could find a recognizable street.
At the sight of it, Tyler’s eyes grew wide and immediately
compelled him to take a look behind him to check for anyone
possibly following him. This was a bad neighbourhood to find
himself at any time, but night-time was the worst.

Borgergade
Avenue. Shit. . .

This
neighbourhood was under control of the Fourteens, a dangerous white
supremacist gang that did not take kindly to trespassers, and least
of all the
inferior
races that they despised so strongly.
They could sometimes be bought off, but no such luck was available
this time. He was at least five more blocks away from St. Jude’s
Cemetery, which was considered untouchable grounds throughout the
criminal underworld communities that fought over control of the
city. If Tyler could reach the cemetery, he could cross through it
safely and roam on safer turf.

The first block
was passed without difficulty. The second was harder—some hookers
were having a chat by a nearby park bench and could easily cause a
scene if they felt provoked by his presence. He had to detour into
an alley and scale a chain-link fence to make it to the adjacent
street, which was thankfully darker and quieter than the last one.
The third one was passed through without incident. It wasn’t until
the fourth when things went bad.

Crossing
through another alley, Tyler could hear a commotion emanating from
the other end. Punches could be heard, and later the sounds of
blunt instruments slamming on bones. Tyler warily peeked from
around the corner of the alley he stood in to look at what was
happening on the street ahead of him. He grimaced at the sight of
what he knew all along in the pit of his stomach, and dreaded the
moment he discovered he had unknowingly wandered onto Borgergade
Avenue.

They’re on a
night hunt.

Tyler had no
hesitations that this was what he was observing from afar. It was a
cherished endeavour among the Fourteens, often carried out as a
training exercise when new recruits joined the ranks and needed to
make their bones. Tyler counted two skinheads standing only a
hundred feet away, with two more revving up their motorcycles and
doing tricks while the others were putting a beating on an old
black man. They laughed and taunted their withered victim as they
took turns stomping and kicking him.

He must be a
junkie. No other reason why he’d be out this far and this late.

Tyler felt
somewhat relieved. . .at least they were busy putting the beatdown
on the old guy. He only had another block—maybe two at most—before
he could reach the side gates of the cemetery and find temporary
safety within.

Final stretch.
I have to make a run for it. No other way.

Tyler gritted
his teeth and made a mad dash for the alleyway that stood across
from him. It was a wide boulevard and he couldn’t skip a single
beat. He reached the other side at last, but before he could catch
his breath he realized that he was spotted after all. . . he could
hear the hasty footsteps of someone charging in his direction. The
splashing puddles he stomped through in his desperate sprint must
have been loud enough to get him noticed.

Tyler turned
his head and saw the cemetery gates just a short run away from the
other side of this new alley he found himself in, but another tall
fence stood in his path. There was no way he could scale it in time
before his pursuer could catch up to him. He would have to find
another way to deal with him. Tyler moved deeper into the dark
alley and hid behind a wet, foul-smelling dumpster. At least this
could buy him a minute to think things out.

“Here, nigger
nigger. . .come out, little nigger! I saw you scuttling around
here. Don’t be shy, boy. Come outta there!”