Installment 2 Continued
I struggled a bit to stand, since the child, obviously not wanting to fall out of character, had begun thrashing about wildly. I had a firm grip, but her flailing made it hard to get up. My injured hand screamed with pain, but I felt sure I could keep consciousness. Once I stood, I made it halfway to the carpet divider before I felt a strong tug and heard a small, strangled choke from inside the blanket. I stepped back and turned to see a thick steel chain pulled taunt across the room. She’d been chained by her neck to the wall.
“FUCK!” I growled. I hadn’t noticed the neck iron because it had been hidden in the hair.
Fong wasted no time and produced a key from a chain around his neck. He pushed the bundle up and exposed the back of her neck and head, pawed through her hair to find the lock that held both chain and neck iron together. Again, he smiled smugly, however this time he shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “What could I do?”
Then he did speak. “You got to pay for her, cowboy. This ain’t Toys for Tots. I need ten thousand American dollars. Now.” This time when he reached inside his robe, instead of producing a key or a sap, he came up with a wicked looking straight razor. As bad as the lighting was, I had no trouble seeing how brightly the sharp edge gleamed.
My face flushed purple. The child was still heaving mightily in my arms, the wound on my hand had reopened and was now soaking both the cotton bandage and the burlap blanket with bright red blood. And Johnny Fong was going to scalp me like this was some spaghetti western. I could probably kick his scrawny malnourished ass all over the shack, but I couldn’t risk setting the kid down, as I feared her more than I did Fong.
I bellowed at the top of my voice, “FERNANDO.”
I hadn’t counted on my helper stepping from behind the carpeted divider, but I had known he would be close enough to hear my voice and help bring this nasty situation to a close. I smiled thankfully in his direction, noting this useful bit of information should I need it in the future - Fernando had crept soundlessly into the shop at some point and had stayed hidden, motionless, without detection.
Fong took up a more defensive stance, holding the straight razor directly in front of him. He recognized Fernando as a street hustler and life long resident of the favelas, a dangerous adversary.
“I’ll give you a hundred dollars.” First I told Fong, then related the same thing in Portuguese to Fernando. I bade him to pay Fong the hundred I had given him earlier as I couldn’t, in my present state, get to my wallet. Fernando looked unhappy about the plan but did as I said. He balled up the hundred-dollar bill and threw it in Fong's face.
“A hundred isn’t going to cover it. I could easily get five thousand for that kid.” Fong angered.
“You’re going to pay, cowboy, one way or another.”
“Ooooohhh, scary man.” I sang out in falsetto. Cowboy, hardly. I considered spitting on him, but instead spat on his floor and walked out toting my load, Fernando trailing protectively behind.
