41. Chapter Forty-One
Chapter forty-one
The crusher continued to whir as the big hydraulic press pushed the large steel slab lower and lower.
The sound echoed around the scrapyard. Xanders was handcuffed to one of the support girders.
He’d stopped screaming and now yanked furiously at the cuffs in a desperate bid to break free.
The smashed sedan remained where it had been when Noble escaped.
It had proved too heavy to move. Not that Noble really tried. Why bother?
He let the crusher sink a few more inches then elbowed the red button on the control panel. The steel plate immediately stopped. The machine gave a loud clank.
Xanders went on pulling at the cuffs a few seconds longer, yanking and twisting, his eyes shut tight.
The silence finally impressed itself upon him.
He stopped jerking at the restraint attached to his right wrist. One eye peeled open a fraction.
He looked up at the metal plate, just inches from his head, then at Noble.
“Please,” he whimpered. “Please don’t kill me.”
Noble had an itch on his palm that he scratched as he stepped over to the machine. “Relax, idiot. I’m not going to kill you.”
Xanders, sweating freely and still looking half feral, simply stared, slack jawed. He let out a small wheezing breath that might have been relief, or maybe just hyperventilation.
Noble ducked onto the platform. The plate was so low, he had to crouch. He knelt down in front of Xanders, took the broken speedometer needle from his pocket and went to work opening the cuffs. “How much did captain Zeqiri pay you?”
“T-two hundred thousand dinars.” Xanders mopped sweat from his face. His lips twitched and his Adams apple bobbed up and down compulsively.
“That all my life is worth?” Noble shook his head. Two hundred thousand was two month’s salary for the average worker in Belgrade. Not exactly pocket change, but converted to US dollars, Xanders has sold him out for about two thousand bucks.
“I-I didn’t have a c-choice.”
“You’ve always got a choice,” Noble told him as he freed Xanders from the cuff. “Even if you don’t like the options.”
Noble backed out of the space and waved for Xanders to follow.
The young man scrambled out on hands and knees, huffing and puffing the whole way.
Soon as he was off the platform, Xanders popped up and he would have run, but Noble caught him by the lapels and slammed him against the steel frame.
Xanders’ head bounced against the metal support column.
“Two hundred grand, huh?”
“It’s yours,” Xanders offered, as he rubbed the back of his skull. “I’ll give it all to you.”
“Two hundred for me,” said Noble, “plus what you got for Bill and Milena. That makes four.”
“I said you could have it.”
“You’re going to take that money and use it to feed the homeless,” Noble told him and emphasized the command with a small shove that tapped Xanders’ head against the column again. “Give it to needy children. Or adopt a couple shelter dogs. You hear me?”
Xanders nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! Anything you say.”
“I’m going to check back in on you, Xanders,” Noble told him. “I find out you spent that money on yourself, you go back into the crusher.”
Xanders put both hands up, palms out. “I swear it on my mother’s grave.”
“Get the hell out of here.” Noble let him go.
Xander took off at a sprint, headed for the exit.
A warm summer breeze blew through the towering stacks of rusted out cars.
Noble put his hands on his hips and glanced around at the metal graveyard.
Captain Zeqiri and his bully boys would be there soon.
They were probably on their way already.
That didn’t give Noble much time. He needed to be ready.