He’d been in the money game for years. It was slowly coming to an abrupt end, though, he thought to himself.
“Jennifer, get me O’Toole on the line, will you?”
“Yes, Mr. Link.”
Mr. Link had been in the money business for many years down on the strip in Montreal. His place of business was between Sun Wei’s laundromat and Bennie’s Pizza. Mr. Link, or “the Man” as he was known to many in the neighborhood, enjoyed a reputation as a fair and wise businessman. He had amassed a small fortune in the lending arm of the money game. His employees were large, not too bright and very persuasive with Mr. Link’s clients. The thing about “the Man” was that this was his job, lucrative as it was; he took great pride in his lending business and didn’t appreciate people calling him a wise guy, or a crook, or a mobster. Mr. Link dealt fairly with all of his clients and although some defaulted on their loans, most paid them off quickly and without any messy business. It was a track record of which Mr. Link was very proud.
But this economy was killing him and his business. People were just not paying their monthly fees on time. And unlike VISA there was no phone call first, no adding onto your limit. There was no Mr. Nice Guy when it came to collecting. Mr. Link did not take kindly to clients who thought they could get away with not paying on time.
‘Mr. O’Toole, when can I expect my payment?” Mr. Link asked calmly.
“Well, Mr. Link, things are a little slow this month. I’ll have the cash for you by Friday, I promise. All of it will be delivered by Friday at noon.”
“Alright, Mr. O’Toole, you better not let me down. I am giving you fair warning, Sir, something I don’t do with most of my clients. I will expect you here Friday at noon, no later.”
Mr. Link hung up the phone and turned to his associate, Rex Handerman. “Mr. Handerman, I think Mr. O’Toole should have a little reminder about his meeting with me on Friday. Would you be so kind as to go over to his place of business and give him what you think he might require to remind him just how much he needs to remember Friday before noon?”
“I am already there, Mr. Link. Consider the job done,” answered Mr. Handerman.
Mr. Handerman was not the most intelligent employee, but what he lacked in brains he made up for in loyalty. And Mr. Link would tell you that in his business loyalty was far more important than intelligence. So when Mr. Handerman said he was going to do something you could be sure it would be done on time, with great efficiency and pride.
Mr. O’Toole sat on his couch in his living room looking down the barrel of a thirty-eight special. Mr. Handerman addressed him again, “Mr. Link wants his money and he wants it now, Mr. O’Toole, so unless you want me to unload this chamber in your head you best pay up, now!”
Mr. O’Toole was at a loss for words, stunned and in shock; he was not used to being the one with a gun shoved in his face. It was usually he that was doing the shoving. At any rate, somehow he found his voice. “Mr. Handerman, Mr. Link gave me till Friday to come up with the money.”
“Well, Mr. O’Toole, he changed his mind,” Mr. Handerman replied.
When Mr. O’Toole finally handed over the money that Mr. Link was expecting, Mr. Handerman fired a round into Mr. O’Toole’s head anyway and then fired again, just for fun. Loyalties can change. He then made a call.
“Jennifer, I have the cash. I will meet you at the airport in twenty minutes.”
Jennifer smiled and said, “I will see you there,” and hung up the phone. Mr. Link was leaving work at that time and asked Jennifer if she had a hot date. No, she replied shyly; she was just going over to visit with her mother.
Mr. Link knew that things were never really what they appeared to be. While he knew he really shouldn’t be so paranoid, he also recognized that greed could consume a human soul faster than the devil. And he knew that Mr. Handerman and Jennifer, although loyal to him for so many years, had decided that they would venture off on their own.
Mr. Link parked his car down the street from the office and waited till Jennifer left. He then followed her. She led him straight to the airport. “Interesting,” thought Mr. Link. “I wonder where she is off to on her lunch hour – Rome, Paris, Brazil?” Mr. Link quickly parked his car and went into the airport, trying desperately to see where Jennifer had gone. Looking around he spotted Mr. Handerman and what looked like a very large suitcase filled with what was no doubt Mr. Link’s money.
“So much for loyalty,” Mr. Link said to himself. He watched as the two scoundrels bought their tickets. He followed them to their gate. Brazil. Mr. Link had contacts and Brazil might seem like a highly populated country to some but to Mr. Link it was just another place filled with desperate people willing to do anything for the right amount of cash.
When Mr. Link got back to his office after witnessing the horrific scene of his two employees taking off with his money, he was not happy. Not to mention their leaving behind a dead body and the questions from annoying police officers he was sure would follow. Mr. Link made a quick call to Alberto in Brazil and gave him the details.
“Alberto, they have a bag of mine. Kill them and use the ticket I sent you to bring that bag back to Montreal for me.”
“Yes, Mr. Link. Consider it done.”
Mr. Link had heard that line before. He just had to hope that Alberto was a man he could trust.
The police officer investigating Mr. O’Toole’s murder found a card at the scene and a gun. It seemed that Mr. Link’s lending days were going to come to end as of today. The police officer had evidence at the scene that would put Mr. Link away for a long, long time.
As for Mr. Handerman and Jennifer, well, they met Alberto at the gate, split the money with him and learned to speak Spanish and Portuguese fluently. The money game was over, and Mr. Link’s feeling of things falling apart became reality for him, but for those loyal to him life looked pretty good from where they were sitting.
Image Credit
“S&W Model 642” by Tony Alter. Creative Commons Flickr. Some rights reserved.
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