Rawpocalypse

18 - Negotiation

The dark interstate highway stretched ahead of the KareMore company cargo van. Sam Gordon checked the wide side mirrors for the thousandth time, certain the law was in hot pursuit.

The Atlanta skyline lit the horizon behind him, darkness and the meat production plant lay fifty miles ahead. He glanced to his wife of only six months. Her fingers stroked tangles from straight black hair. Her dark hood lay folded across her lap.

Between their bucket seats, a hard, round ball of frozen meat in a plastic bag rolled to and fro with each lane change like a bowling ball.

Sam huffed in agitation. "Can you do something with that thing?"

"Like what? It's freezing cold. I'm not holding it in my lap."

He thumbed to the solid wall that separated the cab from the cargo area. "Why didn't you leave it back there with your parents?"

"They had their hands full."

"Yeah, I saw that. I thought this was just a recovery operation?"

"That's right! And we recovered it."

"And what about that big sack they dragged from the house? You're telling me that wasn't a dead body?"

"Yes, honey. It was definitely not a dead body."

"Oh! I feel better now. I'm only an accessory to kidnapping. Not murder."

"You wanted to fit into the family so much, there you go. Happy now?"

He pinched his temples. "So, is this what your family does for entertainment? Oh, there's nothing on TV tonight, let's go bag someone."

"That's so not fair. I told you we've never had to do this before."

"Yeah, that's right. Your family's entire future is at stake."

"Our family!"

"Excuse me, our family. We'll have a gay old time together in prison."

"Nobody's going to prison. Father will take care of everything. He just needs time to renegotiate a deal with our guest in the back."

"Whew! Renegotiating, is that all it is? Remind me not to ask the man for a raise."

"Don't act all innocent. We all know this is your fault to begin with."

"I didn't realize he's got you believing that, too."

She eyed him condescendingly. "It's a simple task. Just push the green button. Why can't you just do what you're told? Push the green button . . . Drive the van."

A loud thud pounded the wall, interrupting the quarrel. A second later the van rocked to the side, swayed by the ruckus in the hidden cargo hold.

Sam rolled his eyes, steadying the wheel. "Sounds like they're negotiating pretty hard."

* * *

Inside the cargo hold, Yoshi Ko fretfully watched his captive stumble blindly, draped all the way to his socked feet in a black vinyl pouch wrapped tightly by multiple strands of high strength parachute cording. Yoshi pressed himself firmly against the steel wall of the cargo van, quietly making himself as thin and invisible as possible. His wife stood in the shadows, a thin silhouette in black tights, her exposed face the only features evident.

Tyrone bounded haphazardly forward, ramming the cargo shell, narrowly missing Kimi in the corner. He turned abruptly in a seemingly random direction. "I know you're in here," he said, exasperated. "I hear you breathing."

Yoshi slipped to one side as the blind ox lunged toward him to thump against the wall.

Yoshi broke his silence, reluctantly giving away his position. "Calm down and we'll talk."

Tyrone whirled toward Yoshi's voice and rushed at full speed, slamming headfirst into the low-hanging shelves next to Ko. Small boxes burst open, spilling nuts and bolts onto the hard metal floor.

Yoshi cringed, knowing the blow must have hurt.

The big guy staggered backward, showing the first signs of relenting in his blind assault.

Yoshi spun away with the dexterity of a ballerina and shouted toward his captive's back. "If it's money you want, I'll get you money. Lots of it."

The bull in a bag, didn't respond immediately. After a lengthy pause, he slowly circled toward the words.

"I'll double our offer," Ko said, inching sideward to counter a sudden charge.

Sure enough, Tyrone dove at him, intuitively compensating for the defensive move, striking a glancing blow against Yoshi's shoulder and spinning him full circle. Tyrone stumbled, unable to right himself before striking the rear doors, nearly bashing them open.

Changing tactics, Tyrone repeatedly rammed the cargo doors, bowing the door slightly outward with each heavy trust.

Kimi went on the offensive. "Twenty million dollars!"

Yoshi's jaw dropped. "What?"

Tyrone seemed just as stunned. He paused from pounding against the exit, and stood motionless inside his black covering.

"You heard me," said Kimi. "Twenty million."

"Nah," said Tyrone, his voice muffled. "You're just tryin' to shut me up so you can bump me off quietly."

"No!" she insisted. "We don't want to hurt you. If we wanted you dead, we'd have let those goons have you."

Tyrone's head swayed back and forth beneath the black pouch. Obviously unconvinced, he dropped his shoulder and charged the exit with the force of a full-back. A rush of wind and the blare of road noise ripped through the cargo hold as he burst through the opening and disappeared into the darkness. The double doors swung back together, slamming themselves closed behind him.

Yoshi breathed a heavy dose of aggravation through flared nostrils. He stepped to the cabin and slapped the wall between him and the driver, signaling for a stop.

He turned to Kimi. "Twenty million?"

She shrugged. "We had to do something."

"We don't have twenty million dollars."

"Then we'll get it."

As the van began to slow, Yoshi folded his arms. "You should pray he didn't survive the fall to the road. Because now we have no choice."

"What are you trying to say?"

"You know exactly what I'm trying to say."