Livewire

Chapter 31

Who was this guy? He was a big man in plain clothes with a close shaved head. Was it the same man who broke him out of the police van? He'd been pumping with so much adrenaline at the time, his memory of things was foggy. From behind it was hard to tell. He concentrated hard and tried to picture the rescuer.

All he could remember was that guy was big and heavy set. The driver looked muscular too so there was a chance it was the same person. He had distinctive tattoos of a calavera skull on the back of each hand. But Kyle could not remember if the man earlier had the same tattoos.

He looked around the car for any signs that would give away who this was but there was nothing. Judging by the interior the car was a few years old, but clearly top of the range when it was new. The leather seats were looking a little worn from years of use. Perhaps it was a hired car. Was this man working for Uncle Joe?

If Uncle Joe had bust him out of his incarceration, he would owe him again. The last thing he wanted was to be in debt to Joe. In fact he didn't want to be in debt to anyone. No matter who it was that orchestrated his rescue.

The car pulled to a stop and he moved close to the tinted glass to peer to the outside world. They had stopped outside Club Flamencos.

The cartel.

Why would the cartel rescue him? To his knowledge, his arrest was a boon to the cartel. He was nicely disposed of after the train robbery.

His breathing grew laboured and his heartbeat echoed in his skull. The car door next to him opened and the hulking man loomed over him.

"Come with me."

He swallowed hard and obeyed, walking behind with heavy feet.

It was still only late afternoon so the club was still closed to the public. He stepped in through the double doors and darkness descended around him. The corridor was unlit, but for a single light at the far end. He followed the big man into the darkness, past the entrance dance floor and through a single door marked "Staff Only".

He swallowed hard when he stepped through. Beyond was a stairwell, with bare walls and a metal staircase leading upwards. His muscular guide led him up one flight of stairs and through the first door, into another corridor. He stopped, pushed open a door and held it open for Kyle.

"Wait in here." His wide body was blocking the corridor beyond. He had nowhere to go, so he obeyed and stepped into the room. It was some kind of conference room, a long mahogany table up the middle with leather chairs down each side and a larger, ostentatious chair at the head.

The door closed behind him and the lock clicked. He didn't know if this new fate was worse than what awaited him in prison. He paced the room, walking to the other side of the conference table. There was floor to ceiling glass down the whole length of the wall. When he approached he could tell it was a one way mirror overlooking the club. He could imagine Baldo standing there each night, surveilling his dominion.

He sighed. What was he waiting for and how long would it be? There was nothing else to do but sit and wait. He pulled out one of the leather chairs from the table and sat himself down. It was quite comfortable, like some kind of boardroom. He could imagine a bunch of men in suits and ties, sipping on coffee and drooling over profits, in a room just like it.

The lock clicked and the door opened. The big man had returned.

"Put these on." He placed a carefully folded pile of clothes onto the table.

"Why am I here?" the door clapped shut and the lock clicked again.

He picked up the clothes and examined them. A pair of suit trousers and a plain white shirt - good quality too. It was better than sitting around in his underwear, so he pulled on the trousers and buttoned them up, but didn't bother with the shirt. He was quite happy in the t-shirt and didn't want to look like all of the other cartel goons.