It was 4PM on a Tuesday and so far Tuesday was no different from the Monday. There was plenty of work to do. Another burial to organise. Another body to dig up on the sly for Mr Vincent King. So Tuesday was a pretty ordinary day like no other, ordinary that is to a man with a silly name like Freddy Colden. And so that is how it was - nice and quiet and ordinary. Until 4PM kicked in that is because that was when masked men burst into Freddy's business and put a bag over his head.
Freddy was knocked out as well.
When Freddy woke up again the bag was off and he was lying in an empty room. It was a bad situation. His head hurt. He had not a single clue as to where he was. But on the bright side he suddenly remembered the name of the channel which showed repeat reruns of Catchphrase.
Two gruff looking men entered the room and picked Freddy up. Freddy offered no resistance. Even a dimwit would have realised there was no point in fighting back - Freddy was small and weak and his captives were big and tough and scary and dreadful. Had Freddy tried to step-up and fight back it would have easily been the end of him. And Freddy did not want that to happen, not just yet. Not when there was a wisp of a chance that he might find a way to escape the frightening situation he was in.
After all:
"If they wanted me dead then I would be dead right now, right?," Freddy thought. And then after that Freddy thought this:
"Or maybe they just want to torture me... Or even worse I might already be dead and this might purgatory! O no!"
He would have screamed for help, but Freddy was intelligent to realise that it would not have done him any good.
Freddy was dragged upstairs and eventually pulled into an office filled with cabinets, drinks, papers, and an expensive desk behind which was sat a large and grotesque man Freddy knew well from old: It was Corta Almoço and leader of the Brazilian Cartel in Fenwick! What did the madman want this time?
The two thugs threw Freddy onto the ground as though he was some kind of an old rug. When Freddy had been firmly stretched out over the floor the thugs kicked him a few times and then a few times more until Corta ordered them to stop.
Corta told Freddy to stand up.
'You are a lucky dog,' said the menacing cartel leader. 'I could have you killed. And kill you still I could! We still have that hole ready at the park to put you in! I could take you there now. Maybe we will, later. Depends on what you do next. Say what I want to hear, and I will let you live. But if I don't like what I hear, then our lovely little relationship ends this day this hour this second. You hear me, dog? You ready to whimper? I just ordered you to speak so SPEAK!'
'I don't know what you want from me?' Freddy replied in an extremely weak voice. 'You have taken everything from me! You have taken my wife my home and my gosh you have even taken my dignity! You have destroyed me! I don't understand why you are doing this to me, Corta! There is nothing more you can do to me other than take me to that hole in the park and cover me up forever!'
'There is a lot I can still do to you, dog,' Corta replied fiercely. 'When I took your wife and your home I was at war with the gangs and I was winning. Good times! I was having fun. But now I am losing the war and the fun is running out and now you are the big man in town all of a sudden. I don't like that. You are still just a dog to me. DOG! Tell me why do the Italians like you? They name you their brother, say you carry their blood and call you a New York made man.'
'None of that is true,' Freddy replied nervously. 'I am not Italian I swear. I was born in Brockworth. I don't know anything about Italy, I have never travelled except for the odd trip to Wales, and when I met Bolly in Thailand, and when I fled the country... SO... I guess I have travelled quite a lot... But I have never been to Italy once, and never ever not once to New York. Trust me when I say this but I cannot stand that LA Thinns guy who runs the Mafia. I hate him. Creepy pool playing creep... NO! He is most definitely NOT this Englishman's cup of tea no siree!'
'So you don't like the Italians? That's fine. But you like their friends the King's don't you, right? My people say you are in bed with them every day now?'
'Well no offence Mr Corta but your people must be drunk, that or quite imaginative to think up such utter nonsense about me and my relationship with the King's!'
'So you admit you are having a relationship with them?'
'No! Not that! Not ever!'
'My people say they saw you leaving the King's House?'
'Okay. Maybe that is true. But it does not mean that I am their friend not at all!'
'Then why were you inside their house?'
'I won't lie I am a very desperate man, so desperate in so many complicated ways. Look at me I am homeless for goodness sake! My accountancy business has failed, work has dried up. I have no money. The King's, well, I always got on well with Mr McGregor and he offered to put a roof over my head. What was I supposed to say? Was I supposed to say, "No thank you kindly, I prefer sleeping out in the rain? You would have taken their help just as eagerly if you were in my position!'
'I would never be in your position,' Corta replied bluntly.
'NO. Of course not. I was just speaking figuratively... Hypothetically... Or whatever the word is.'
'I know the word you are looking for. Traitor. Another word that is good for you is scum,' said Corta angrily slamming his fist on the desk. 'I know you are working the Kings!'
'No I am not I swear!'
'Prove it!'
'Okay. This is what I will do. I will grab my passport and I will go back to the UK. And then I will be out of your way forever!'
'But you have enemies in England?'
'No I don't!'
'You do. You owe a lot of people a lot of money back across the channel. You owe loansharks. These are men I know and they want to get you. They are after your blood!'
'Okay. You are right. I will tell you what I will do instead. I will go to France.'
'You forgetting Brexit, boy? There is no going to France not anymore not for Limeys like you!'
'I will stay there for a tiny but, like a holiday, and I will figure something out. I will go to Thailand! I have got relatives there. I am sure Bolly's sister will look after me. The last time I saw her, which would have been Bolly and I's wedding, she could me a Facker - I think that word translated into English means something like lovely man.'
'And you would go away and leave everything behind? Even that nice new funeral business you running these days? Business doing well? My boys tell me you have been burying a lot of my boys lately. You are making a lot of money out of my war it seems!'
'NO. That is not true in the slightest. We are not prejudice in the funeral business. We will bury anybody, young or old.'
'You have been burying my boys!' Corta continued angrily and he thumped the desk a second time.
'Okay. We have been burying a lot of Brazilians lately. But it's just a coincidence! We are not selective about who we put under the ground. My business is happy to bury people from all around the world. We buried a man last week from Boggy Bottom.'
'So if I let you go now you will go to Thailand, yes?'
'Yes!'
'What if I don't let you go?'
'Please, Mr Corta! What is this really about? What do you want from me? I am too tired and too old to keep on playing these crazy games. It is rotting my brain it really is! Just tell me what you want or just... well just do that other thing you keep on threatening to do but never do. Put me in that hole in the park...'
'30G,' said the warlord plainly.
'I beg your pardon?' Freddy was beyond confused.
'You give me 30G and I let you go!'
'I am sorry, Corta. But I don't understand? It was only a few days ago that I was completely homeless! I am the worst kind of man to ask money from.'
'I have looked into your affairs in the UK and I know everything that you did there and I know why you are here and that is why I want money out of you,' Corta explained. 'I know all about your failed printer business. You borrowed a lot of money from a lot of people. And then you borrowed more money from more people, and then you met the loansharks, and then you met me. I know your business, dog. You are up to your neck in debt! But what do you care? Sitting safe here in Fenwick away from the UK. But now your ghosts have come back to haunt you, dog. You see your old business partners found a way to get their money back. Me. We did a deal together. I bought their loans. And as your new borrower I am the one you need to pay back. And right now you owe me 30G. It's time to pay up dog!'
Freddy almost collapsed with horror.
The fierce Brazilian warmonger was right - Freddy's ghosts had followed him all the to Fenwick! Now he was fully in their grasp as they reaped their total vengeance on him!
'But I cannot pay you that kind of money, Mr Corta. I just don't have it. Maybe I can pay you with instalments...?'
'Or maybe you can just be my slave,' Corta returned suddenly.
So that was it!
O Corta was a menace! The frightening man had a plan cooking inside of his head and Freddy was only tasting the first course, a spoonful of sour cold soup before the main starter was served...
And now it was time for the main course!
Truly Freddy felt like he had been put on a spit ready for the roast!
'You work for me inside the King's business. You tell me everything you know about them. You tell me their secrets you tell me everything and I mean everything!' said Corta. 'I am going to bring that family down. I am going to destroy their distillery, their heart! The distillary is where they make their money. We take their money and then we take them. Without money the King's are nothing. And when the King's are nothing the Italians won't want to know them and they will go back to New York. And then Fenwick will be mine again. You know what I am saying? Do you understand?'
'But if the King's find out I am working for you they will kill me clean!'
'Of course they will. And I will kill you to. Maybe we can cut you up between us, like the sound of that hey? I am sure it can be arranged. But you know it is better to bow your head and be my slave, yes dog?'
'Okay. I will do it. I will help you.'
'Good doggie! Now first thing is first. I want to deal with the distillery. I want the gates unlocked and all the cameras watching the building turned off so the Kings do not know I am on my way. You will do that for me now. I am going to attack the place today! I am going to burn it down real good!'
Freddy as not the smartest man in Fenwick, if he had been smart he would never have ended up getting involved with a vicious and terrifying cartel warlord, but he was smart enough to know that resistance against such a force as Corta was utterly and totally futile. So he didn't bother to resist. Instead he just wagged his head and said yes and that was it, business done.
But the next thing Freddy did was quite unexpected.
As soon as he got home he got onto the phone and called - of all people - THE POLICE!
Hello, police? There is going to be a raid tonight outside of the King's Distillery!
And like that the trap was set...
(Remember! All spelling errors and grammatical mistakes are intentional - the author 😆)
Previous part here
There is a prequel to this story. Check the link below if you would like to read it: Jim's Subway part 1
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