Happy Life
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Arriving at the bowling alley, a Palestinian taxi driver tried to overcharge, but the detached Arandor was not in the mood. Threatening with a weapon half-drawn, he counted out a few bills and tossed them onto the seat. He hadn't even closed the door when the car sped off and disappeared around the corner.
Arandor entered the building and walked to the tables near the lanes. And there was Tieru, sitting with some dark-skinned guy.
- Ah, Tieru.
- Hello, partner, - Tieru said with a saccharine smile.
- I thought our conversation was confidential, - Arandor said coldly, fixing the dealer with a stern look.
- Of course. I just met an old friend. This is Vegtam. Vegtam, this is Arandor.
The stranger extended his hand, but Arandor didn't shake it.
- Nice to meet you, - he said dismissively. - Now, about the deal.
- Yes, yes, about the deal! Friend... - Tieru turned to his companion.
- I'll go have a smoke, - the black man said with a dazzling smile, pushing back his dreadlocks and taking out a pouch.
He got up and headed towards the restroom.
- He's a great guy, right? We've known each other since school.
- Tieru.
- Okay. Anyway, the last batch is going well, but I had to hustle. The guys are getting out of the business, you know how it is in the field, - Arandor nodded in agreement. - Have you heard about today?
Lighting a cigarette, Arandor shook his head.
- The police intercepted the entire shipment. There's nothing left to sell, I sold the last of it yesterday, - Tieru took a sip of his drink.
- Which is why...
- Which is why I insist on at least two more pieces.
Arandor sat in silence for a minute, his fingers clasped together. A difficult situation. But Tieru had outdone himself in greed. If the shipment was lost, everyone would be in trouble, and someone might become a problem. It was worth preventing dangerous situations if possible.
- How long have you been working for Tangheiser, Tieru?
The dealer's brow furrowed in thought.
- Since the second run... About a year.
It's not a loss. Many will thank him.
- Okay. Let's go?
- Let's go.
They left the table and headed towards the exit. Arandor felt the familiar outline of an important package in his pocket. As they passed the filthy toilet door, he smelled the characteristic scent of smoke coming from behind it. Tieru's friend didn't waste his time on cheap cigarettes and bad tobacco.
They went outside and walked around the building. The dealer approached the car, opened the trunk, and presented a couple of bags.
- Thanks, I'll take both.
Arandor shot him in the throat. The smell of the cheap perfume of the thug mixed with the smell of gunpowder. Grabbing both bags, the killer disappeared into the alley.
***
Tangheiser sat in an armchair, his hands folded on his chest, trying not to betray his anxiety. He was doing a good job of it; he had earned a reputation as a ruthless, cold, and calculating man, whose near-sighted, darting eyes, bloodshot and teary, were fortunately hidden behind the lenses of his permanent sunglasses.
Finally, the doors of the office opened, letting in a visitor accompanied by two burly men. The visitor was dressed in a black leather coat and gloves, his narrow face with a sloping chin framed by long, dark hair falling over his shoulders, and his gaze lingered on individual objects, methodically scanning the surroundings. Finally, his yellowish eyes stopped on Tangheiser. Even through the mirrored lenses of his glasses, they looked directly at the target. Tangheiser felt uncomfortable. Undoubtedly, this man was insane.
- Welcome, Vistrit, - the boss's voice almost trembled.
- Dobře, - the guest grunted.
- Have a seat. Would you like something to drink?
- I'll stand. I won't drink, - the visitor grinned with crooked teeth.
Tangheiser broke out in a sweat and shifted in his chair.
- Well then... Something unpleasant happened today. I suspect someone from my own people, - silence. - Which is quite natural... The goods didn't reach me. Two hundred kilograms of crap.
- Are you growing vegetables?
- What?... Heroin. Someone tipped off the cops. They took everything, - Tangheiser barely suppressed the tearful notes in his voice.
The guest yawned.
- Okay, I'll get it back for you.
The boss hesitated for half a minute.
- Ha! Do you really care about the shipment? - he chuckled with feigned nonchalance. - I need the rat.
- The rat... - Vistrit's gaze became vacant, and his lips moved silently. - Yes. Okay, I'll find him for you.
Tangheiser felt the initiative returning to him.
- Of course, you will. You can also return the goods if you can.
- You're getting a call.
For a few seconds, nothing happened, and Tangheiser looked at the phone in confusion when it finally rang. Suspiciously glancing at the grinning Vistrit, he picked up the receiver.
- Hello. Now?... Where?... Bring him. - He ended the conversation and was silent for a moment. A problem.
- Go. My distributor has been taken out. The bastard struck again. Don't let him strike a third time.
***
Neira flinched and almost spilled her cocktail. She was sitting in the corner, thoughtfully looking out the window, and saw them - two guys who had walked around the back of the bowling alley across the street. Then a shot rang out, and one of them ran off into the darkness. People started to stir and chatter, the bartender ran to call the police, and she quietly slipped out of the bar and walked away. She didn't need to get mixed up with the cops. No, there was nothing left to gain here. It was better to go back to her father. He lived in one of these backwater towns with ten thousand inhabitants. Find a dead-end job in a roadside diner...
She had come. Despite her instability, Imaris had to let her go. Otherwise, he would look for her and stop at nothing. Climbing to the second floor of the old apartment building and approaching the right door, Neira heard voices. Carefully opening the lock and slipping into the corridor, she determined that the sounds were coming from the kitchen. It was the pleading voice of her pimp and someone else's. Through the crack between the door and the frame, she saw a disturbing scene. The beaten Imaris was tied to a chair, his face and clothes covered in blood. Next to him, someone, whom she couldn't see, was delivering a couple more good blows.
- I don't work for him, I don't know anything! - Imaris whispered through his broken teeth.
- You were the first one I came to, buddy. You know why? Because your whores know everything that happens here. They hear a lot. Come on! - He grabbed him by the throat.
Imaris's response was to try to gasp for air.
- Okay, - the stranger continued. - Maybe I'm being too persistent... hmm, persistent, steadfast... and too harsh. After all, a person may not know everything. Right?
The pimp nodded.
- But what good is he then?
Imaris's face turned pale even through the bruises.
- You wouldn't dare! I'm the second most important person in this city, you'll be cut to pieces, you scum, you'll be gutted! You won't live to see tomorrow!
The guest shyly chuckled and plunged a table knife under the pimp's ear. The blade made a wide semicircle under the chin to the opposite point. The man gurgled and fell off the chair, convulsively twitching.
Neira finally overcame the shock and retreated from the doorway as quietly as possible. The floorboard creaked under her foot, and the stranger, startled, rushed into the corridor. The girl ran, but was knocked down by a chair thrown with deadly accuracy. The last thing she remembered before losing consciousness was the pattern of the sole of a stranger's boot.
Arandor entered the building and walked to the tables near the lanes. And there was Tieru, sitting with some dark-skinned guy.
- Ah, Tieru.
- Hello, partner, - Tieru said with a saccharine smile.
- I thought our conversation was confidential, - Arandor said coldly, fixing the dealer with a stern look.
- Of course. I just met an old friend. This is Vegtam. Vegtam, this is Arandor.
The stranger extended his hand, but Arandor didn't shake it.
- Nice to meet you, - he said dismissively. - Now, about the deal.
- Yes, yes, about the deal! Friend... - Tieru turned to his companion.
- I'll go have a smoke, - the black man said with a dazzling smile, pushing back his dreadlocks and taking out a pouch.
He got up and headed towards the restroom.
- He's a great guy, right? We've known each other since school.
- Tieru.
- Okay. Anyway, the last batch is going well, but I had to hustle. The guys are getting out of the business, you know how it is in the field, - Arandor nodded in agreement. - Have you heard about today?
Lighting a cigarette, Arandor shook his head.
- The police intercepted the entire shipment. There's nothing left to sell, I sold the last of it yesterday, - Tieru took a sip of his drink.
- Which is why...
- Which is why I insist on at least two more pieces.
Arandor sat in silence for a minute, his fingers clasped together. A difficult situation. But Tieru had outdone himself in greed. If the shipment was lost, everyone would be in trouble, and someone might become a problem. It was worth preventing dangerous situations if possible.
- How long have you been working for Tangheiser, Tieru?
The dealer's brow furrowed in thought.
- Since the second run... About a year.
It's not a loss. Many will thank him.
- Okay. Let's go?
- Let's go.
They left the table and headed towards the exit. Arandor felt the familiar outline of an important package in his pocket. As they passed the filthy toilet door, he smelled the characteristic scent of smoke coming from behind it. Tieru's friend didn't waste his time on cheap cigarettes and bad tobacco.
They went outside and walked around the building. The dealer approached the car, opened the trunk, and presented a couple of bags.
- Thanks, I'll take both.
Arandor shot him in the throat. The smell of the cheap perfume of the thug mixed with the smell of gunpowder. Grabbing both bags, the killer disappeared into the alley.
***
Tangheiser sat in an armchair, his hands folded on his chest, trying not to betray his anxiety. He was doing a good job of it; he had earned a reputation as a ruthless, cold, and calculating man, whose near-sighted, darting eyes, bloodshot and teary, were fortunately hidden behind the lenses of his permanent sunglasses.
Finally, the doors of the office opened, letting in a visitor accompanied by two burly men. The visitor was dressed in a black leather coat and gloves, his narrow face with a sloping chin framed by long, dark hair falling over his shoulders, and his gaze lingered on individual objects, methodically scanning the surroundings. Finally, his yellowish eyes stopped on Tangheiser. Even through the mirrored lenses of his glasses, they looked directly at the target. Tangheiser felt uncomfortable. Undoubtedly, this man was insane.
- Welcome, Vistrit, - the boss's voice almost trembled.
- Dobře, - the guest grunted.
- Have a seat. Would you like something to drink?
- I'll stand. I won't drink, - the visitor grinned with crooked teeth.
Tangheiser broke out in a sweat and shifted in his chair.
- Well then... Something unpleasant happened today. I suspect someone from my own people, - silence. - Which is quite natural... The goods didn't reach me. Two hundred kilograms of crap.
- Are you growing vegetables?
- What?... Heroin. Someone tipped off the cops. They took everything, - Tangheiser barely suppressed the tearful notes in his voice.
The guest yawned.
- Okay, I'll get it back for you.
The boss hesitated for half a minute.
- Ha! Do you really care about the shipment? - he chuckled with feigned nonchalance. - I need the rat.
- The rat... - Vistrit's gaze became vacant, and his lips moved silently. - Yes. Okay, I'll find him for you.
Tangheiser felt the initiative returning to him.
- Of course, you will. You can also return the goods if you can.
- You're getting a call.
For a few seconds, nothing happened, and Tangheiser looked at the phone in confusion when it finally rang. Suspiciously glancing at the grinning Vistrit, he picked up the receiver.
- Hello. Now?... Where?... Bring him. - He ended the conversation and was silent for a moment. A problem.
- Go. My distributor has been taken out. The bastard struck again. Don't let him strike a third time.
***
Neira flinched and almost spilled her cocktail. She was sitting in the corner, thoughtfully looking out the window, and saw them - two guys who had walked around the back of the bowling alley across the street. Then a shot rang out, and one of them ran off into the darkness. People started to stir and chatter, the bartender ran to call the police, and she quietly slipped out of the bar and walked away. She didn't need to get mixed up with the cops. No, there was nothing left to gain here. It was better to go back to her father. He lived in one of these backwater towns with ten thousand inhabitants. Find a dead-end job in a roadside diner...
She had come. Despite her instability, Imaris had to let her go. Otherwise, he would look for her and stop at nothing. Climbing to the second floor of the old apartment building and approaching the right door, Neira heard voices. Carefully opening the lock and slipping into the corridor, she determined that the sounds were coming from the kitchen. It was the pleading voice of her pimp and someone else's. Through the crack between the door and the frame, she saw a disturbing scene. The beaten Imaris was tied to a chair, his face and clothes covered in blood. Next to him, someone, whom she couldn't see, was delivering a couple more good blows.
- I don't work for him, I don't know anything! - Imaris whispered through his broken teeth.
- You were the first one I came to, buddy. You know why? Because your whores know everything that happens here. They hear a lot. Come on! - He grabbed him by the throat.
Imaris's response was to try to gasp for air.
- Okay, - the stranger continued. - Maybe I'm being too persistent... hmm, persistent, steadfast... and too harsh. After all, a person may not know everything. Right?
The pimp nodded.
- But what good is he then?
Imaris's face turned pale even through the bruises.
- You wouldn't dare! I'm the second most important person in this city, you'll be cut to pieces, you scum, you'll be gutted! You won't live to see tomorrow!
The guest shyly chuckled and plunged a table knife under the pimp's ear. The blade made a wide semicircle under the chin to the opposite point. The man gurgled and fell off the chair, convulsively twitching.
Neira finally overcame the shock and retreated from the doorway as quietly as possible. The floorboard creaked under her foot, and the stranger, startled, rushed into the corridor. The girl ran, but was knocked down by a chair thrown with deadly accuracy. The last thing she remembered before losing consciousness was the pattern of the sole of a stranger's boot.