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.Thought he heard something crack, hoped it was the plastic controller.The countdown started onscreen—3, 2, 1, GO!He drove.Slowly.Couldn't crash if he drove slowly.Inching along, taking his time at the first turn in the road.The Black Ice Boys erupted—laughs, jeers, "Motherfucker", "Aw no no no no"."Come on, man, play it right."Eyes on the screen."I am playing it right.You didn't say I had to win.Just stay alive.""We changing the rules.Drive faster.""You can't do that." Eyes on the screen.Steady forward.Staying alive."Rules are rules.""Our place, our rules."Bleeker kept his mouth shut.Eyes on the screen.Steady forward.One of the bruisers called for the gun."Hey, come slap this bitch.""That's not what you said! You said not to die!""Man, fuck this." One of the guys grabbed the other controller.Paused it.All turned to Bleeker.The one with the Glock tightened his grip, took a step and swung his arm, picking up speed and power.Bleeker grabbed his wrist and held it steady like grabbing a tennis ball out of the air.Squeezed.Yanked that kid towards him.Face to face.Kid's face twisted in pain."Hey hey hey, I was just playin'! Let me go.Shit, let me go!""Drop the gun."Kid dropped the gun onto the couch.Bleeker reached across and grabbed it before anyone made a move.Not yet, but he sensed it.All of them tensing their muscles.Ready to rush him.He tightened his grip on the kid's wrist."The gun loaded?"A nod."One in the chamber?""Just, just, just, like three bullets, man.All I got left."That's when the apartment door opened, and in walked Mustafa followed by a new guy who made all the tensed-up Black Ice Boys relax.Must have been Teeth.A bit tubby, fat-necked.Coffee brown skin, some big moles on his cheeks, one right above his top lip.Wearing a soft leather hat, seventies style.His eyes went wide when he saw Bleeker, gun in hand, holding onto one of his gangstas."Shiiiit, Bahdoon, the fuck is this?"Mustafa, maybe a bit amused."Ray, you tell me."How was he going to play it? Would Mustafa back his move? And one of their mothers in the kitchen.Teeth's mom? Could the music on this goddamn game get any more annoying?Bleeker dropped the magazine from the Glock, shoved both into the couch cushions, then let go of the kid's wrist.Gave him a shove back.He fell on his ass."All I was doing was playing the game, buddy.Their game, their rules."He stood from the couch, walked past the bangers and stood behind Mustafa.Teeth grinned, huffed.Bit of a laugh hidden in it."You alright."Bleeker looked away.The door.He wanted out that door.Teeth and Mustafa shook hands, slapped backs.The gang leader said, "Truce until you figure this out, man.I hope your boy's okay.""Me too.""We'll deal with Roble.Don't you mind.""For real, Teeth.Thanks.I mean it."He turned to Bleeker, nodded at the door.No need to tell him twice.He walked out into the hall.The lieutenant from earlier was there, leaning against the doorjamb across the hall, talking to someone through the door, opened a crack and secured by a thin chain.Talking low.Soon as they saw Bleeker, the door closed.The banger gave him another sneer.Mustafa was out a second behind him, closing Teeth's door, then giving Bleeker a push."Walk fast.Don't look back."Down to the far end, turned a corner.They skipped the elevator and headed towards the stairwell, Mustafa picking up pace, passing the detective while pulling out his cell phone.Texted with one hand.Shoved the phone back into his pocket.Bleeker yelled at Mustafa's back."What the hell was that all about?"Still moving on."Stupid, man.Goddamned stupid.""They played rough.I did what you told me, but I wasn't going to get pistol whipped.""You pull some Chuck Norris Texas Ranger on them, and now I'm not sure we're going to get out of the building alive.""I was an Army Ranger.""I know that.I get it.What I'm saying is that Teeth's a stone cold liar.He wants to collect on me.But he can't do it on his own.He doesn't touch the guns, no way he'd kill somebody directly.One of his boys will.And he's not going to be able to leash them now because of you.""I swear, I did what you said to do."Mustafa reached back beneath his jacket as they walked, pulled out Bleeker's pistol and handed it back to him, clumsily, wobbling it.Bleeker took hold.Pulled the magazine out of his pocket and slammed it home.Forget the Plus One round.He'd get the job done.Bleeker said, "Did he even give you anything?""We need to talk to Al Jones.Not his real name, but he's going around recruiting gang kids for the holy war.Looking for real bad apples.Not sure how he found Jibriil, but somehow, they hooked up.""They're going to warn him that we're looking for him.""Last thing they want is to mess with extremists.Maybe the cops shine a flashlight looking for roaches, but the Feds shine a floodlight looking for rats."Some doors along the hallway opened a crack, peeking.Others were wide open, people hanging out, glaring.Loud music, loud TV, none of it making sense.Bleeker heard some mumbling, like "Bahdoon thinks he's something, look at him," and "Come back here, the nerve, man," "Want me to take him? Get the prize?" Everywhere, the smell of smoke, and grease from fried food, and the spices he'd only ever smelled in Somali homes and stores back home.No one came out and made a try for Mustafa.No one taunted the man to his face, always after they'd passed, low tones.Made Bleeker wonder how evil of a bastard this guy had been before his conversion.Like Saul of Tarsus, persecuting the Christians, then getting knocked on his ass with Jesus Love.At the stairwell they started down, two steps at a time, Mustafa finally grabbing his own pistol.Bleeker hadn't realized he was strapped.Two floors.Three.Then they heard the noise above them.Scuffling, hurrying.Bleeker leaned over, looked up.Nothing."Let's go.No need to look."Bleeker caught up.On the second floor, the hallway door banged open.Both men brought their guns up, ready to fire.Scared the hell out of some kids.Young teenagers, a boy and two girls.The girls, lip-glossed and eye-linered, and the boy in a parka too big for him.The girls screamed.The boy's eyes went wide.Hands up."No! I swear! I don't know nothing! Mr.Bahdoon, please, I didn't do anything!"Mustafa let out a breath, eased up on the gun."Go back home.Do not go outside."He nodded, pushed the girls into the hallway.The door closed again, air-cushioning into place.First floor.Stairwell to the outside was open, door off the hinges.Mustafa stopped on the second step.Bleeker was three behind him.Couldn't see why.Outside the door, a patch of light on a small patch of concrete.Like Mustafa was frozen.It didn't make sense."They're coming fast, man.Let's go."Mustafa glanced back over his shoulder.He nodded [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]