David Putnam - The Replacements

She shivered. I hugged her hard for a long second, let go, and moved over to Drago. “Now, you ready to tell me what I want to know, or is the ‘tool’ standing here over you going to have to shoot you in the foot, in the shin, in the knee? Well, you get the idea.”

He groaned and rolled back and forth. “Who are you, man? You’re some kinda cold-hearted, black demon-asshole.” He quick rolled toward me. His bloody hand reached out for my leg to pull me down. I jumped back and raised the Glock, taking aim at his foot.

Marie yelled, “Bruno, no.”

I jumped back, pulling Marie out of reach with me.

Drago laughed. “I can see who wears the pants in-”

I shot a round next to his face. The bullet kicked up little rocks and dirt, peppering his skin. He flipped away, both hands to his face. “Jesus, are you crazy? Shit, are you outta your mind? You tried to shoot me in the head.”

“If I wanted to shoot you in the head, you’d be dead right now. Where’s the money?”

“Okay, okay. We can’t get it until tomorrow.”

“Not we , Drago.”

He pulled his hands down from his bloodied face, his smile wide and scary. “You won’t have a chance getting that money unless you take me along. Trust me on this one.”

“Why not?” asked Marie.

“Because I hid it someplace, and it’s going take all three of us to get to it.”

I kept quiet. Marie did better with him, so I let her talk. “Where?”

“The Southern California clubhouse for the Sons of Satan.”

Marie foraged around in the van and found a dirty Black Sabbath t-shirt. I tossed it to Drago, who sat on the bumper at the back of the van and tied up his thigh. The bullet had passed right through the tattoo of Jesus’ praying hands and missed the bone. He had an overabundance of thigh flesh to spare. He’d lost a lot of blood, but he didn’t look any more pasty for the loss.

“Why tomorrow?” I asked.

“Oh, no. We have to get the ground rules straight first.”

I waved the Glock. “If you haven’t figured it out, the only ground rules are the ones I make. And I’ll make them as I see fit.”

“No chance, it’s not going to work that way. We work a deal right now, or you can go back to shootin’ and torturing.”

“We know where the money is now,” said Marie.

“Good luck with that.”

“So I’ll ask you one more time, why tomorrow?”

“Seventy-thirty split. I’m the seventy, because I put in twenty-five years of my life waitin’ for it. And what, you got about two minutes invested?”

“How can we make a deal with you?” asked Marie. “The first chance you get, you’re going to try and hurt us again. You’ve already tried twice.”

“Ask your man here why. He knows. I can tell he knows. He’s been to the joint. I can smell it on him. In the joint there’s a code we live by. I give you my word, I’m good for it.”

Marie looked at me for confirmation. I nodded. “That’s true to a point.”

“I give you my word, it’s my bond. You can ask anyone.”

“Fifty-fifty,” Marie insisted.

I waved the gun. “We’re not here to negotiate. That’s ridiculous. The amount’s not going to matter. We need what we need to trade for the children. We don’t need any more than that. So it doesn’t matter what the split is.”

“You’re telling me you don’t care about the money for yourselves? Is that right?”

“That’s correct,” Marie said.

“And you’re doing this only to help out some little shit-assed kids?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. What’s up with these kids? What do you need the money for?”

“Someone from my husband’s past is trying some sort of revenge thing and has kidnapped three children,” she said. “He won’t give them back until we give him the money.”

“Some piece of shit has kidnapped your kids? I wouldn’t give him any money. I’d cut his nuts off and stuff them-”

“They’re not our kids.”

“Wait, they’re not your kids, and you’re doing all of this for someone else’s kids?”

“That’s right,” I said.

Drago thought about that for a moment. “How much does this piece of shit want?”

“A million.” The number came out low and without confidence. The amount sounded beyond absurd.

“A million dollars for three kids, are you shittin’ me?”

How had our forward momentum been derailed and degenerated to talking our problem over with this prince of humanity?

“You don’t have the million, do you?” asked Marie.

Drago looked at me, then at Marie. He offered his hand to me, splotched with his drying blood, and held my gaze. Blood-borne pathogens came to mind again, but I didn’t look away.

“You shake with me and make a deal before I go any further,” Drago said. “Before I tell you any more.”

“Don’t do it-don’t get that close to him,” Marie said.

Drago didn’t move, didn’t say anything, and continued to stare.

“What’s the deal?” I asked.

“Bruno Johnson,” warned Marie. “You get close to him and I’ll-”

Drago’s mouth dropped open. “You’re Bruno Johnson? You’re the Bruno the Bad Boy Johnson?”

I wanted to look away, ashamed at my reputation, but continued to hold his gaze. “That’s right.”

“You did a couple of bullets up at San Quentin on B block.”

I nodded. “No, only a year, then was transferred down to Chino.”

“Yeah, yeah, but you’re the guy. You’re the guy who killed his son-in-law for killing your grandson, am I right? You’re the guy who saved all those kids in Los Angeles. You’re a friggin’ legend, my man. You go to prison now, you’ll reign as king. It might almost be worth it to go back to the joint for something like that.”

In prison, and on the street, all criminals live by a code with few rules. Anything goes as far as crime, robbery, murder, and even mayhem. All except one. You don’t mess with children. You don’t harm or molest them, or you are automatically sought out and killed. And, if you, as a prison inmate, as a non-K-Nine, a non-keepaway, have the opportunity to kill a “baby raper” and don’t, then you, too, are marked for termination. That’s why “baby rapers”-the K-Nines-are kept segregated, lumped all together and kept away from the general population. Anyone who took aggressive action against those degenerates by enforcing that rule was considered a hero.

Drago held out his hand with sincere vigor. “I don’t usually hold with no nig-I mean, well, you know what I mean, man. But I still want to shake your hand, bro.”

I needed something from him, so I handed the Glock to Marie and stepped in close, bracing for the worst. He took my hand and shook it, strong and unyielding. Power and strength emanated from this guy, the most formidable person I’d ever come across. I would not stand a chance empty-handed against him. Not one chance in hell.

He let go. “Okay, here’s the deal. You help me get the money, and then I’ll help you get the kids back.”

“That’s not going to work,” I said. “We need the money as flash-”

“There’s not enough money, is there?” Marie asked again.

I stepped back with Marie. Drago looked at her, then back at me. He shook his head.

“How much is there?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

“We’ve gone through all of this and you don’t even know?”

He shook his head again.

Marie lowered her tone, just as scared as I was, her voice cracked. “How much did you get away with in the robbery?”

If this plan wasn’t going to work, what other option did we have? I started thinking about how we could get him tied up again, and dropped off where the FBI could babysit him; keep an eye on him for the sake of the public’s well-being. A lion loose among the lambs. Or a hyena.