Kiss & Die - Lee Weeks [65]
Rizal leaned back to look Mann over. He wiped his hand on his dirty vest, a cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth. ‘I told you, the food is finished. We are all out of pork. Come back tomorrow.’
Slick, still seething, was obviously weighing Shrimp up to see if he could take him. He probably could, muscle for muscle – but then it wasn’t about how much muscle, just how you used it. Shrimp had yet to flesh out. Slick laughed at Rizal’s retort. Mann caught him mid-throat with the side of his hand. Slick clutched his throat and tried to breathe and then Mann slammed the flat of his hand between his shoulder blades. ‘Sorry – thought you got something stuck in your throat.’
Slick fell onto his knees, choking.
‘Just trying to help. Shrimp here is an expert on all things. What do you say, Shrimp?’
‘He needs to go away somewhere quiet for a few hours and contemplate his life.’
‘Okay, I don’t want any trouble.’ Rizal told his friends to go. ‘What do you want?’ Rizal put his cigarette on the edge of the card table whilst he packed up his dice.
‘To tell you something for a start. Michelle’s in custody.’
Rizal didn’t blink. He picked up his dice and put them in his pocket. ‘Whatever she did, ain’t got nothing to do with me. What was it this time? Stealing from a john?’
‘She’s on a possible murder charge.’
‘Huh?’ Rizal looked at Mann, his jaw dropped and then he burst out laughing. ‘Michelle? You have to be kidding. If she had it in her she’d have killed me a long time ago.’
‘Yeah, that’s what I said, but then someone pointed out you might have put her up to it which is why I’m here. We need some blood from you. We need to take your prints. I can take you in now or you can save us a job and go there yourself.’
Rizal shook his head, rolled his eyes, irritated. ‘You ain’t got nuttin’ on me. If Michelle is banged up it has nothing to do with me. You wanna find Lilly, her daughter. I won’t have any curry to sell. How am I going to feed my kids? You should let her go. We have real live problems round this place. People die every fucking day here and no one cares. Just coz it’s some rich foreigner there’s fucking trouble.’
‘This new group of kids, the Outcasts, have you heard of them?’
‘I know them. Outcasts, lone wolves.’ Rizal snorted with derision. ‘Just a pack of mangy dogs. Just a bunch of ugly kids. That little bitch Lilly’s one of them. She’s always looking for trouble. Don’t worry. I’m going to teach her a lesson she won’t forget.’
‘Do you know who’s doing the recruiting?’
Rizal locked his eyes on to Mann’s and then he looked away and shrugged. ‘I think it’s Chinese. I have seen some new faces in the Mansions, expensive suits, and expensive-looking women.’
Mann heard footsteps coming along the corridor. He looked over at Shrimp. Shrimp had moved to the far side and was watching someone approach. Slick and a new man appeared; he was as broad as he was tall. A strong-looking fighter. They had the Filipino’s choice of weapon – the street knife: solid, long bladed. It was the art of Eskrima, the Filipino martial art. Its masters trained in street alleys, barefoot on broken glass, where space was limited and you had to kill quick and get away fast. Hands were used as weapons, blocking, breaking bones.
Rizal looked pleased with himself. He jumped up and scurried to the back of the newcomers. One of them stepped forward, bare-chested, his scarred torso showing years of fighting. He was the oldest, around forty, strong and stocky.
The fighter spoke. ‘The Mansions has its own set of rules. You come into our world, you play by them.’
Mann looked across at Shrimp. He knew he was more than capable of beating them in a clean fight but this was anything but that. Shrimp had studied Muay Thai which was nothing like as dirty as this type of combat.
Mann looked at the fighter and said, ‘Chain of the hand. Kadena de mano. No weapons.’
The fighter nodded. He put his knife down.
Mann looked at Shrimp, who was placing his beloved suit jacket carefully on a chair well out