Chapter 40
Bejo flicked the cigarette through the barred window. He exhaled forcefully before turning back to Ziad.
"We must act soon to finish Tama's hold on the prison. My time ends next week- when I return to the streets of Jakarta as a free man courtesy of the parole board, I must have my reputation or I will be dead within twenty-four hours."
Ziad leaned against the cement walls of the cell. Sweat dripped down the back of his shirt.
"There aren't many left," continued Bejo, "Thanks in large part to your... ministrations."
Ziad flexed his arm, tattoos rippling across his now very dark skin.
Forty seven tattoos. Forty seven personal, brutal, cold murders.
Anything to get out of here.
"But the last few remain, and the last few are the most dangerous. They are like-"
"I swear to God," interrupted Ziad, "If you use the tired cliché of the wounded, cornered wolf I will hurt you."
"Like a wounded, cornered jackal."
"Go fuck yourself."
"Soon my friend, soon."
"It's December, Bejo. December. Do you remember what December feels like?"
Ziad stood as Bejo frowned at this sudden, unexpected outburst.
"December is cold, December has snow, December has Christmas and December has happy laughing people. I'm tired of this shithole. I'm tired of sweating. I'm tired of killing for you. I want out. I want out now. You made your promise. I help you get your reputation and I get out of this prison as soon as possible."
Bejo sighed and glanced at Mad Dog, who was guarding the door.
"We start tomorrow. The plan is quite simple..."
"Bejo..."
"Bejo..."
"Bejo, you do realize you can't just fade out when you say 'the plan is quite simple,' right? You have to actually tell us the plan."
Bejo shook himself.
"Oh, right. Well, here, listen. The plan really is quite simple..."
Bejo walked towards the parole office. Two armed and very serious looking guards stood outside the heavy steel door.
Ziad watched. Bejo put one hand behind his back as if to scratch, and extended one finger.
The signal.
All go.
Ziad gave no reaction, but turned around and began walking back into the cell block.
One of the guards sat at a table flipping through the newspaper, his pistol on the table. Ziad approached him.
"It's on." he said to the guard, handing him a thick envelope. The guard yawned and put the newspaper on top of the gun, stood up, and walked away.
Ziad reached under the newspaper and felt the gun slide into his hands before covertly slipping it under his shirt. Mad Dog joined him and cracked his fist.
Ziad began approaching Cell Block 2, home of Tama and his hardcore inner circle, those Ziad had never been able to eliminate covertly. There were only a dozen of them but they weren't weak or unprepared men like most of Ziad's other targets. Two huge thugs stood at the entrance to the Block.
Ziad stopped in front of them.
"I want to talk to Tama."
The strongmen stared unblinkingly at Ziad.
"Or, we could do this the hard way. Fair enough."
Ziad pulled the gun from his shirt and shot the first guard in the head, swung the pistol around, and ended the second guard in the same way.
Blood sprayed across the filthy concrete, shockingly red in the otherwise dark gray décor.
"Well, that really brightens up the place," commented Ziad.
There was a second of silence as the booming echo of the gunshots faded.
Ziad stepped into the Block, followed by Mad Dog, gun raised casually.
"I want to talk to Tama."
A hugely fat man with a receding hairline emerged- Tama himself- from one of the cells, arms raised in appeasement.
"What do you wish to talk about, Jarrah? Please, put the gun down and let's talk it out like-"
Ziad shot Tama in his ample gut.
"Enough talk."
The remaining dozen or so thugs fell to Ziad's gunfire and Mad Dog's fists and flying feet.
Ziad walked back into the main area where several gallons of gasoline had miraculously appeared, along with a set of keys, a shotgun, and several more pistols.
The rest of Bejo's men began arming themselves. Ziad grabbed two cans of gasoline and walked back into Tama's cell, where Tama was writhing in pain as blood bubbled up out of his stomach.
Ziad overturned the mattress on top of Tama and poured one of the cans of gasoline on it. The other gallons were distributed evenly throughout the rest of Tama's Cell Block 2.
Ziad left the Block, closed and locked the door.
Mad Dog lit a cigarette and puffed on it.
He handed the cigarette to Ziad.
Ziad tossed it into the Block.
FWOOMF!
Ziad put on the one thing he had left- a pair of aviator sunglasses and looked away from the raging flames consuming the Block.
"I'm coming back you motherfuckers."
Author's Note:
Whew, okay, I gotta say, I much much prefer writing Ziad than Parvati. So I think I'm going to write a few more Ziad chapters before finishing Parvati's independent arc, then bringing them back together.
And here's my "I'm back!" chapter now that exams are over and done with. More will come.
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