THE TAKEOVER - Part 3: The Armenian Dick Head

Part 1 - The War Council
Part 2 - The Offer

I left Sandra half-naked in the SUV and told the Russian goons I'd call when I had some info. I knew Abdulian was in town, and not at his desert warehouse or overseas because he sat three rows in front of me at Cirque du Soleil last night, the dick head, but I needed an address.

I went back to my office and made a few calls. No one was in, so I spent time looking at porn while I waited. Eventually one of my regular snitches, a tweaker named Melvin, called me back. Melvin gave me the number a drug dealer in Henderson who used to play cards with Abdulian. After threatening to turn him into the police, and promising him a bribe, the drug dealer eventually gave me the address of the ridiculous, grandiose thirty-two room house that Abdulian calls home.

I took a ride out to his house and began planning my entrance. The dogs were going to be the biggest problem. I found a couple kids playing in a lot across the street from the house. I offered them $20 now and $20 after if they kept his dogs on the far end of the yard and not killing me. Once I heard the barking, I hopped his fence and found an open door through the laundry room.

His house was weird. I didn't like it. I searched for probably ten minutes before he and his shotgun found me.

"Who are you? Why have you come?" his shotgun seemed to say.

"I've come to ask you a few questions," I said, or something like that. We stared at each other awkwardly for a few seconds. He clearly had the advantage with his shotgun pointed at me. I began to wonder if I could draw my own gun, and even things out, before he shot me. I’d need a distraction.

I pointed behind Abdulian and said, “What’s that!?” Abdulian didn’t bite, he just shot me in the chest. Luckily, his gun was loaded with rock salt. I wasn’t dead, just in extreme pain from a hundred salt filled wounds… also, I landed on my keys when I hit the floor.

“I never kill an intruder with guns, Mr…. Monroe, isn’t it? I leave that to the dogs. But I do like to salt the meat for them.”

“You’re a cruel bastard,” I groaned, “saddling those poor dogs with high cholesterol.”

He chuckled and said, “The price of an enjoyable life, Mr. Monroe. The price of an enjoyable life.” Then he stomped on my face with his boot.

I woke up, hanging upside down from a tree, a pack of hungry rottweilers circling beneath me. It was night. I was just a few hours away from becoming dog shit when I heard a crash and shouting. A car had crashed the gate and was speeding towards me. The dogs scattered. I couldn’t see who was driving, just the blinding headlights.

Two large men stepped out of the front doors. One sprayed bullets in Abdulian's general direction. He and his crew ran, unprepared for the incursion. The other cut me down without saying a word. He dragged me to the car and tossed me in the backseat. Then we made our escape. Sandra was in the backseat with me, calling me an idiot. I tried to reach up and grab her titties, but my arms were sore and useless.

They took me back to the incognito hospital and put me in a bed next to Ivanov. That asshole was still unconscious. Then I passed out.

To Be Continued...

Part 4 - The New Boss