Laurence had spent the ride stressing and playing out hypothetical scenarios in his head. To his misfortune, no cops had pulled the Honda Civic over and saved him. The Honda Civic had left the inner city and moved towards the port, reminding Laurence of the "Sleeping with the fishes." gimmick of the Italian mafia movies. The driver, AKA ripoff Hitler hadn't responded to his questions and continued single-mindedly focusing on the road. Existential dread was one thing. fearing for your life was something else. Once upon a time, Laurence had thought that being in an action movie would be nice. Now that his life had turned into one, he wished he could just go back to his father's house.
The view from the car door window wasn't reassuring at all. They had left the more policed and developed areas of the city and entered the slums. The old and crumbling buildings and graffiti were a sight for sore eyes. The sea on the horizon's edge did would have been beautiful to the average passerby as the sun was starting to rise, turning the sea into an ocean of glittering gems. The Honda's AC was drying his eyes out while the smell of food caused his stomach to grumble. Laurence distracted himself by wondering what was in the backseats that smelled so good.
The Honda took a left and drove deep into an alley, eventually stopping in front of a red warehouse. Laurence held his breath and hoped the car would start moving again. It didn't. "Ok, we're going in. Trying to run won't end well.", said John dryly as he turned his head at Laurence's pale face, his thick eyebrows slightly upturned. John unbuckled his seat belt and fluidly exited the car before taking the package out of the back and walking to Laurence's side. Laurence ran a scenario where he tried to run in his head. The sight of himself being shot several times by a middle-aged Hitler cosplayer put a plug in that plan.
The door at his side opened and John reached in to unbuckle the belt. Laurence blanked out as John pulled him and walked him toward the warehouse's entrance. John kneeled down at the warehouse gate and took a key out of his pocket as they arrived. Laurence noticed a rusted lock on the handle. John unlocked it and pulled the handle upwards. The metal plates and hinges groaned as they rose. Laurence looked around once again, hoping for an escape route. Before he could find one, John finished opening the gate and gestured for Laurence to enter. Laurence hesitated at first but walked inside.
The smell of dust and wood hit Laurence's nose. The warehouse's interior was unlit and Laurence slowly shuffled forward, unsure of what to do. John entered the gate as well and turned on a switch. The warehouse lit up as an LED light on the ceiling turned on. A few old racks of rotting wood stood haphazardly across the warehouse. A brown-haired man wearing a grey coat stood in the middle in front of a flip table. The man was staring at them. "Close it." said the man as he scratched his forehead his head. John pulled the shutter down before pushing Laurence to the flip table.
As they got closer, Laurence saw that the flip table had a scale and a white laptop on it. The warehouse floor creaked with each step they took. Laurence got a good look at the brown-haired man. The man's grey eyes scanned Laurence as his facial features contorted into a sneer. "The payload?" asked the man while glowering disapprovingly. "Right here.", said John while gesturing to his left hand which held it. "Well, at least this isn't a total failure." said the man while sounding mildly relieved. John put the package onto the white flip table and watched as the brown-haired man inspected it. "He opened it huh.", said the man as he saw the tape marks. "Yep.", said John. Laurence was shaking with fear as the brown-haired man looked at John exasperated. "Well, get rid of him, and let's get the package to Rodrigo." said the brown-haired man as he turned his back on them both and took a flip phone out from his coat pocket, and started a call.
Laurence started backing away while shaking his head. John sighed and reached into his own pocket. Seeing this, Laurence tried to make a run for it, only to trip and fall on his face. "Let's not make this any more difficult than it needs to be.", said John reassuringly as he unloaded and reloaded the Glock. Laurence rolled over and begged John to leave him alone as the Glock aligned itself with his forehead. The brown-haired man started arguing with someone on the phone before hanging up abruptly. Before John could pull the trigger, the brown-haired man snapped his fingers. "Wait. We got a problem John." said the man as he started pacing from one edge of the table to the other.
John kept the Glock aimed at Laurence but turned his head towards the brown-haired man. "What's wrong Seth?" said John inquisitively. "Stephen's dead." said the man called Seth. "You're kidding me.", said John as he frowned. "He pissed off Morris, and this time the fuse went off. We're fucked." said Seth dejectedly while staring at the flip table, the phone in his hand returning to his coat pocket. "I'll make some calls, see if anyone else is available.", mumbled Seth half-heartedly. John paused for a bit, taking a few breaths and processing what was happening.
"What about loan sharks?" asked John while lowering the gun. "Becket's out of town, Thomas refused us the first time, not sure he'll reconsider.", replied Seth. "They won't budge on the timeline will they?" asked John, his voice taking a darker tone. Seth chuckled sarcastically. "That's it then, it's over." said Seth while raising his hands. "Eight months of hell and twenty years in the business, fucked over because he couldn't keep his mouth shut." mumbled Seth, unsure how to feel as a realization coursed through him. He was a dead man walking.
"Morris can help, you know he can." assured John as he walked closer. Seth let out a mad laugh at this. "You know what he'll ask for. I'm not getting into another pit." refuted Seth. "We had a good run, didn't we? Got lucky, even made three hundred grand from all this, too bad we can't launder it." said Seth while looking up at the LED light. "It's not over." said John, his voice taking a hard edge. "Really? I owe three hundred grand in clean money that's due in three days. Where are we supposed to find someone that will launder it? Morris is king here. I guess I'll go home and end it with my own hands." rambled Seth.
"For four years I've been haunted by this, every day I've woken up with fear that this would happen. Now that it's here, it isn't that bad. I expected something more, well more. I always thought my death would be a dull affair. Not like they'll excuse me. It's either 700 grand unclean or 300 clean. If we had another five months, then we might have been able to clear it. But I'm already on my fourth extension. Twenty years i've put into this life, and now i'm going to die because i couldn't pay a debt. Ten years ago i was earning 600 grand year. Hell, ten years ago you still had hair. Those were just different times. Different era really. Tijuana made us fabulously rich, we should have been smart enough to know it wouldn't last. We didn't save much, and when Don Varga died we were easy prey. But we had good times too, pleasant times."
Seth continued rambling, bringing topics up from the past. "Remember that ride to Toronto? Good times, Mark got shot in the thigh and met his wife. And that time we smuggled those cigars from Cuba? I've never smoked since." said Seth, chuckling in between sentences. The man's eyes took on a grey light. Defeat wasn't a good look on Seth. It made him look smaller, older, and crooked. A light ocean breeze entered the warehouse from the ventilation above, raising the dust from the floor.
John walked further but Seth stopped him. "Just get rid of the witness, then we'll have one last drink.", ordered Seth disheartened. While all of this was going on, Laurence's mind was in overdrive. A plan popped into his head as he felt the hard ground press into his back. As John stepped back in Laurence's direction to finish it. As he re-aimed the gun, Laurence shouted, "I can launder it for you!". John paused and removed his finger from the trigger making eye contact with Seth who seemed revived from the grave. "Shut the fuck up.", said John before putting his finger back on the trigger.