Chapter 11 — Cleaning up Afterwards
Despite the lack of careful precognition, Morgan's plan turned out well enough in practice. The hardest part consisted of forcing the bleeding Will to huddle back over the parking lot of Tee'N'Ay and into the trunk of Morgan's car without anybody noticing the blood or the gun Morgan pressed into the Saint's back. He would have liked to think that he was somehow very discrete about it, that it was some sort of ploy or ruse he came up with that allowed them to pass unnoticed, but it would have been a steaming load of crap. He was noticed and he was doing a piss-poor job at concealing it. The only reason it worked was that nobody seemed to care.
There were not many people strolling around the waterfront to begin with. Strip clubs tended to see more action in the evening hours and it was not even 3 p.m. yet. What few people there had a hard time not looking at them. A bleeding Saint, a Vice King and a gun were quite difficult to ignore, but while people's eyes flared open in surprise, alarm and sometimes even excitement, few people dared to meet Morgan's gaze when his eyes moved to confront the spectators. In fact, after the first initial shock, most people eagerly went out of their way to get out of his. At first, it merely confused Morgan, but the feeling faded quickly when faced with the convenience of the phenomenon. It still took him a while until things fell into place and he fully understood what was going on.
People were scared of him.
It was an odd thought, alien and mildly disconcerting, but also increasingly thrilling. It made him feel powerful. Fear was the kind of respect you couldn't simply buy. It was a boon, in this case, one provided by the virtue of the color he was flying. People knew what the Vice Kings were capable of and they did not want to mess with one of them. Far easier to bury your head in the sand and pretend like you didn't see anything. Pitiful drones, that was what Morgan thought of them. He was glad to no longer be one of them.
Will went into the trunk without much of a fight and Morgan drove off, heading north and back to his apartment. On the way there, he gave a quick call to Doctor Gonzales, telling him that he had a friend who was in need of medical attention. Gonzales was exactly the kind of doctor that someone on the 'wrong' side of the law could appreciate. Highly qualified and respectable in the eyes of the public, whole-heartedly corrupt if you knew how to ask; exactly the kind of person to call upon when you or someone close to you was sporting gunshot wounds that you would be hard-pressed to explain in an ER. Fees for people like that were steep, but — at least as Morgan was concerned — totally worth it.
When he pulled up to his building, the doc was already waiting for him. It was a messy business, but he dug out the bullet Morgan had put into Will's shoulder, ruining several of Morgan's bed sheets in the process. Between watching out for the pimp not getting any ideas and half-expecting for an army of Saints to burst through his doors any second, Morgan wondered more than once whether Will was worth the trouble.
The Saint certainly offered very little of worth as he cursed, whined and wailed through the entire treatment, forsaking all dignity and stubbornly refusing to pass out and deliver his hosts from his annoying presence. Eventually, Morgan paid something extra just to shut Will up. Best money spent that day by far.
The doc left, leaving Morgan with a hefty bill. No Saints came knocking on his door, leaving him with a couple of hours of peace. It was about half-past ten when an unfamiliar ringtone began to sound in Will's discarded jacket. It was Vikki. As far as Morgan was able to tell, she had held up her end of the bargain. Now it was Morgan's turn.
An hour later, it was done. He had parked Will's still unconscious body on a park bench, then called Vikki to let her know where to pick her cousin up while he watched from a safe distance. She had driven up in a station wagon, packed to the brim with a wild assortment of personal effects. The last thing he saw of them was the car heading off, driving towards the freeway. That was it. Mission completed, at least as far as Morgan was concerned.
Over the following days, it became apparent that Vikki had not been playing. Her place was shut down, she herself gone for good alongside her cousin. Nobody was sure where the two had disappeared to, though Steelport was widely regarded as the most likely option. Morgan didn't really care. He had taken care of business, saving his own neck without breaking too many others in return. That was enough for him.
Unfortunately, it wasn't for Tanya. She called him the next morning. This time, Morgan checked the display in advance, hesitating and preparing himself before picking up. From her tone, he could tell right away that she was pissed. A smile spread over his face.
"I must say, I am disappointed," Tanya began with an indifference usually reserved for passive aggressive mothers on a crusade to instill guilt. "I thought I told ya to leave your petty morality at home when doin' the King's business. But you just couldn't help yourself, could you, honey? You just had to let them go, didn't you?"
To Morgan, it all sounded like music. But there wasn't any 'just' involved when he thought of the matter. Far from it. Anybody might have just done as he was bidden. Anybody could have just rolled over the place, simply killing each and every living soul with the rotten luck of being in the brothel during the unfortunate time of his visit. Bullets and death were always easy. Morgan was still pretty green behind his ears, but he had learned that much already. So Tanya might try as she wanted to make him feel bad about what he had done, but he wouldn't budge on the matter.
"Hello, Tanya," he replied gleefully. "So nice to hear from you, too. Yeah, I guess I did allow one or two of them to skip town. Why have there been any problems?"
Tanya hesitated briefly. "No, nothing so far, not yet at least, but you're takin' an unnecessary risk here and I mean risky for the both of us. What if Vikki and her inbred cousin decide to come back?"
"Isn't it obvious? You give me another call and I'll take care of it again."
Tanya tsked. "Look who is quite full of himself today — "
"Look Tanya, what do you want? You wanted the matter handled and I handled it. You said the competition needed to go, and I made it go. The hook-up with the Saints is history too. Sure sounds to me like you should be pleased. So why aren't you?"
Tanya sounded more upset than angry now. "Because I thought I could rely on you, but you let me down. You knew what I wanted you to do, but didn't have the balls to actually go through with it!"
"I'm heartbroken," Morgan said sarcastically. "Maybe you should have thought of that before getting me to do your dirty work for you. What was so important about the damn place anyway?"
There was the barest hint of hesitation. "What do you mean?"
"Oh please, Tanya, don't insult me. There are dozens of places like Vikki's around, and as far as I am aware you're not causing them any problems, the usual extortion of protection money left aside. So why that particular place?"
Inwardly, Morgan chided himself. He hadn't meant to have this kind of conversation with Tanya. In the long run, holding on to that kind of information probably would have availed him more, but his temper had gotten the better of him. The only silver lining was that he hadn't also spilled the beans about the abducted girls.
Tanya, meanwhile, decided to switch tactics. The bitchy undertone vanished from her voice as she turned her malicious charm on, warmth and sultriness seeping into her voice. Morgan could almost hear her battering his eyelashes at him.
"I don't know what you're takin' about, big boy," she all but swooned over him. "That bitch was resisting our efforts to take over the industry and needed to be made an example of. Plus, she joined up with the Saints. Of course I picked her as a target!"
Morgan had to hand it to Tanya. She was a damn good liar. Even when she was being quite obvious about her chance in tone, her claim itself sounded surprisingly sincere. If Morgan's guts had not screamed, hammering into his head to see Tanya's little narrative for the bullshit that it was, Morgan might have been tempted to actually believe her. But something more was going on and Morgan would be damned if he didn't manage to figure out what that was.