RED INK
EP 26: Who dares to start a fomentation?
•
•
The big padlock was a solid steel which looked new compared to the chain rounded at the handle of the iron gates. He struggled with the lock as the key appeared bent. He managed to manoeuvre the keylock, removing the chain and closing it back. "Fucking hell! Fucking hell!" He cursed.
Behind him came two big guys, taller than him with two inches. They were cladded in a black leather jacket, black beanies and black boots. In their hands, they were each holding an AR-15 with leather gloves on their hands. They each had a headlamp around their heads. They both looked around in confusion, raising their guns up to survey the premises.
"Boss?" The one with a balbo beard, nicknamed Deathrow, asked with confusion on his face. He feared that he was followed. "What's up?"
"Lock the gates!" Diggy furiously dropped the chain, leaving it on the ground for them to pick up, walking away towards the PEN.
The rain was falling heavily and Diggy was wet from it.
"Take care of the gate." Deathrow instructed his partner, Juke, leaving him to walk alongside Diggy. Diggy was pissed and he didn't know why.
The way to the main PEN was a long stroll, it went farther into the forest and the paths were lined with sycamore trees. There were wooden houses in the premises, all raised above ground level. At various corners In the compound were bobber bikes. The compound that indicated their premises was fenced round with iron rods with iron nets on them. They were as tall as a six point five feet fence.
At each corner of the fence were tall watch houses. Although one will expect to see everywhere pitch black in this type of forest, it was rather lighted—powered by Diesel generators. Around the gates were lights standing on a wooden stick, under a zinc used to protect it from the rain. In the compound was brighter and perfectly prevented people to easily catch the light.
The landmass surrounding their vicinity was a huge one and was densely populated by trees that varied from emergent layers to top canopies, under canopies and shrubs. In the darkness of the night, it was like a cursed forest...termed 'evil forest'. They were used to it. The place they stayed at was habitable and already cleared out to fit their agenda.
There were people outside of the PEN; all men dressed in blacks. Diggy walked into the PEN: it was a large room which compared to the environment it was in, had technological advancement. It had four different computers at the intersect. Diggy moved ahead and went to an empty wall by the corner, pressed a button and put in a password. The door opened, exposing a more homey room. It had a bed and a computer desk and that was where Diggy sat, inputting his password.
Deathrow followed him into the room and was behind him. The screen of his computer had a home screen of a mouse on it. He checked his computer, he didn't Receive any message. It couldn't be network issue because there was a cell cite not too far from where they were.
He checked his email again, there was none. It took him a couple of venting out and cursing before the message popped up.
He quickly clicked on it, there were several attachments to it. He clicked on the first one.
"Oh shit!" Deathrow said with his hand over his mouth. It was a picture of one of their men, young boys, who they sent to the warehouse to accompany some goods. "That's snipes!" He lamented.
Diggy didn't utter a word. He clicked on the next, and the next and the next...the more he clicked, the furious he became.
"What the fuck is that?" It was another guy standing at the door. He came in to stare closer at the screen. "Isn't that Pence?!" He looked at Deathrow and Diggy in confusion. "What's the meaning of this? Are they dead?!"
"Calm the fuck down, Shorty!" Deathrow yelled at him. "And close that door behind you, will ya?"
Shorty walked fully into the room, closing the door shut. No one would be able to come in from outside if it's sealed on the inside with an additional bolt, so he sealed the door with the bolt. He folded his hands. "What's going on?"
Deathrow and Shorty looked at Diggy, waiting for an explanation.
Diggy sat, staring at the screen. He clicked on the next picture, it was a picture of fragments of bullets covered with blood. "What do you see here, Shorty?"
Shorty walked farther into the room, standing by the right hand side of Diggy, Deathrow by his left. He narrowed his eyes at the screen, observing the cartridge. "This could either be a 30-06 Match or a 30-338 cartridge. It's used by snipers. 93.40 or 50 millimeter in length. It can travel at one thousand meter per seconds. Even more . "
"What can you access about the user?"
"This is used to kill big animals. Whoever used it was intent on killing someone. There is no escaping or recovering from this shot."
Diggy nodded, hands away from the computer and laying back in his chair. "And what do you think about the arm, is it legal or illegal?"
"It is a legal rifle."
"Can it be imported illegally?"
"Anything can be imported illegally."
"Do any of our men use this cartridge?"
Shorty shook his head. "No."
Diggy nodded, sitting up and clicking on the next shared pdf file. "And this? What do you see here?"
Shorty looked at the picture of the next bullet. "This is a point forty-five ACP bullet. It can be easily accessed at gun shops."
Diggy nodded again. He then went back to the first picture of Snipes that had a bullet to his head. He brought out all the pictures of Snipes and placed them side by side. "What do you observe in these pictures?"
"That's Snipes!" Shorty was shocked. He thought there was only a picture of Pence. "What the fuck happened?"
Deathrow bent and looked at the screen. "There are two gun wounds."
Shorty looked at it. "You are right, Row. Look at it closer." He collected the mouse from Diggy and zoomed the picture. "There is one on the belly and the other on the forehead." He gave them time to observe the picture before clicking on the others. "Two bullet point all right. No miss. This jerk has experience with guns."
Diggy frowned, he remembered when the boys told him the person they were chasing was an expert and he didn't believe them. Now they were dead, proving their points, using themselves as baits. But why was this person intent on finding him? He looked at the screen and at the picture of Snipes, he was bloated and his lips were bluish. His skin had turned pale white and his eyes were opened. They were washed in the rain because the picture of his clothes were wet, his gun laying in his pocket.
"What do you think happened?" Shorty asked again. "This weapon was probably an M ninety-nine spot."
"Who did this, boss?" Deathrow asked.
Diggy stood up, folding his hands and looking at them. "Could be the motherfucker they were sent after."
"The faceless guys?"
Diggy nodded.
"There are a lot of people after you, boss. Don't you think it could be anyone of them?" Shorty asked.
"There are gangs after me, yes. But they are all waiting for me to come out. This faceless is seeking me out. I wouldn't be surprised if he shows up here one day. I am sure they are the ones."
"The ones whose identities we do not know?!" Deathrow was now getting furious. "You sent out inexperienced boys after a crackhead who is out for blood and who possibly has years of experience in military trainings and whatnot...now covered in cold blood...Boss?"
"It is your turn to calm down, Row." Shorty said to him.
"Calm down?! Snipes and our other junior brothers are dead! And judging from the picture, they are decaying in broad day light!" Deathrow's eyes were red but no tears formed in them. "I told you to send us; Me, Shorty, Juke, Dice...all of us or one of us to track the maniac down, but you refused. You sent down young boys, all five of them dead in one night! What do you have to say for yourself boss?"
Diggy was speechless because he was more a boss to the younger boys than he was to his fellow colleagues who saw him as a comrade.
"So you've done some sketchy things in the past, a lot of them and have crossed many prestigious people and now you can't even guess who is after you. Just how many people are after you?" Deathrow asked him. "Can you even remember them all?! If you can name them one by one then we can decide where to begin from. But you are here, a boss of one of the biggest gangs and you can't even track down one maniac who should be like a fly to you."
"Row, you know we've tried tracing."
"It's been four months Shorty!!" Row yelled at him. "Four_Fucking_Months! What are you telling me?".
"If it is that easy, " Diggy looked up at him with anger on his face but calmness in his voice. "why don't you track him?"
Row looked at him. "What?"
Diggy came closer to him. "I said if it is that easy, why don't you track him? You have computers, you have guns, bikes, cars to boost your mobility. Why don't you do the job?"
Row sneered. They were standing, looking at themselves eye to eye, the headlight on his head making him much taller. "Are you trying to shift your obligation here? You can't admit you are wrong."
"No." Diggy shook his head. "I will admit I am wrong. I will take all fucking responsibility. In return, you will get me the head of the maniac who did this to my men. And even better, in two weeks. How does that sound?"
Row chuckled and looked away. "You think you are taking responsibility by shifting the same responsibility to someone else?"
"No, Row. I admit that the first time I received the call of their deaths early this evening, I was regretful. I took a walk in the woods, I even wailed, smoked more cigarettes than ever...the reason why I am here this late. I do not care if you believe me." Row looked at him dead in the eyes. "But you are blaming me for not being able to apprehend the faceless, making claims that any one of y'all old boys could do it. So I am giving you a go-ahead. I will provide you with all you need to get him, but you will do it in two weeks. Can you, or can you not?"
"You are still saying the same thing, Diggy."
"Hey! Row—" Shorty interrupted him but he stopped him.
"Don't stop me Shorty! It is his deeds! He committed the crimes! Why are we suffering for it with him?"
Diggy laughed. For the first time in the whole night, he bursted out laughing and it was irking him. The scar at his right face failed to wrinkle with his laughter. He dug into a drawer and brought out a wrap of cigars, the cigarettes were not doing it for him. It wasn't a wise thing to smoke in this small congested place. He took out another lighter from the drawer as the one in his pocket was useless. He lit the cigar, puffing smoke into the air. When he had accomplished the first two uneven smokes, he stood, back rested on the wall, one leg over the other and looked at Row and Shorty. Shorty was expressionless, watching him while Row seemed to be triggered by the fact that he could still smoke in such situation. "Row," He called to him. "My sins are your sins, as well as everyone's sins in this group. If they are after me, they are after everyone around me. If they are after you, they are after me also. We are tied like two criminals with one cuff. There is no escaping this. If one of us is killed, we go after the killer to make a statement that he cannot just get away with it. We've been doing it all this time, what changed?"
He waited for an answer but he got none. He smiled and took another draw of smoke, the paper tingling his fingers. "You cannot escape this, Row. We've been together since day one, if there is anyone shifting blame and responsibility here—it is you. And you asked me why I was hiding? If I come out today, Row, will you all survive? If you leave today from here, will you survive? I will tell you what, you won't. You know why? Because your face is mine and mine is yours. The same as Shorty, same as Juke, Dice... because we've been known to be associated with each other. If you go into town today, someone will recognize you, and words fly like rockets these days...you will be used to hunt the rest of your brothers down. You will bring us all down with you. For the rest of our brothers to survive, all five of us need to be dead. And you know it. And there is nobody who wants to die."
"Then let's leave!" Row yelled.
"Tsk tsk tsk." Diggy shook the ashes from the cigar away and took another draw. "Sometimes Row, I wonder where you use your reasonings." He stood from the wall and put his free hand into his pocket. "You can't leave the country through the air nor by sea. They are waiting for us to do just that. Wherever we show our faces, we will be apprehended. One of them has to get to us before the other does. Either way, they will be doing themselves a favour. We are better off where we are now." He walked closer to Row. "So relax. We have lots of debt to pay. Until then, this particular person intently seeking us down has to go."
Deathrow's anger had subsided a little. He couldn't disagree with Diggy that they had nowhere to go but here. At least at here, they were getting jobs from people they haven't crossed yet and by using faces of people who were new to the game. That way, they could control who they supplied to or chose to work for. The only good thing on their side was that the police were not after them.
Diggy sat in front of his computer and clicked the pictures. "What other thing do you guys notice here ?" He asked, drawing another round of smoke.
Shorty came around him at stood at his left hand side. He looked at the screen. "Is there anything else to see here? We already stated the obvious."
"Look at all the pictures again." Diggy told him.
While Shorty was clicking on the pictures one by one, Row turned to look at them with him. All these while, his gun was still in his hand.
"I still don't see anything, except the ground is wet, it's probably at our warehouse, they all have two gunshot wounds...all their guns are still in their pockets which means they didn't have time to prepare for the attack...whoever shot this probably shot them with a silencer added to it."
Diggy nodded. "But that's not all. What else do you not see?"
Shorty looked at him. "Do I 'not' see? Not?"
Diggy nodded.
Shorty looked at the screen, he couldn't see what Diggy was driving at.
"Just skim through the pictures."
"Or why don't you just tell us!" Shorty lamented.
"Wait.." Deathrow collected the mouse from Diggy and clicked the assembled pictures one by one. "This is Snipes...Pence...Nighter... Arrow... Where is Durin? Durin's pictures aren't here. Is he alive?"
Diggy took another draw. Now, they were at where he wanted them to be. "What we don't know is whether he is alive or not. I have ruled out all possibilities that he manhandled this scheme himself because none of our men use such cartridge nor bullets. The question now is, where is Durin?"
"Durin..." Shorty thought. "Shit man! Did Dice tell you he isn't there?"
Diggy nodded. He allowed them to think but they were not coming up with anything so he sighed. Why was he doing all the thinking? "I will tell you what...whoever killed the others took Durin with him. One person must live to speak. Out of all the boys there, Durin is the oldest. Whoever came for them, came for Durin. That's why he is missing."
"Then we need to find Durin. If we find Durin, we find killer."
"Hm." Diggy said and drew his last two smokes from the cigar, putting it off. "I need to speak with Matrix and you all know why."