141

Sal placed the receiver back in
Its cradle and he went over to
The cabinet behind the desk
And removed from it a sleek,
Steel barrel tommygun with a
Moulded mahogany stock and
He held it in the crook of his
Arm and left the room. Passing
Through the hallway he could
See that the shop was empty
But that behind the counter
Ahmad was crouched and he
Reached down and hauled him
Up and propped him on the
Counteredge and held his body
There with the barrel beneath
Ahmad's lower ribs. He did not
Speak. Ahmad was spluttering—
Wha-wha-, Sal comon comon,
D-d-d—You know what I am
Gonna do Ahmad if you don't
Shut the fuck up your fucking
Body and soul are going be
Pried apart by force. Going to
To open your ribcage and feed
You your own fucking heart,
You understand? He withdrew
The barrel and as Ahmad fell
Swung the stock up to crack at
His jaw. He gave him the heel
On the floor, a few times, and
Then leaned in and cradled his
Trembling face in one sallow
Hand. I am going to fuck you,
You little mamaluke. Fuck you.
Now tell me who your friend is.
C-c-cieco. Cieco. Sal comon—
Fuckin-A. You kick up to Reuben
From now on. If I see you again,
I'm not going to see you again—
Gabisci? He straightened, spat.
Ahmad waited until his footfall
Had ceased. He began gasping.