Ivy Taylor, had to accompany her father on a business trip as punishment. If she wanted to be independent, she would have to learn the ropes of what it meant to work for it even it meant to earn a minimum wage at her godfather's cafe.

Fortunately for Ruby, he had a business meeting with his old friend at the Chantel Hotel by the following day. It was a two hour drive to St. Louis, the business meeting would be held at the 4th floor starting at 7am. A small gathering consisting of approximately 24 entrepeneurs who were organizing a marketing campaign to boost their investments. Mr. Courier, the manager of the hotel, was delighted to partake in the event.

Ivy did not find the meeting engaging nor riveting, even Mishaal who was quite the persnickety type would've had the backbone to express his annoyance of the progression of the meeting if he were present. Even though Ivy originally intended to meet up with the bespectacled bookkeeper, he was preoccupied with running an errand before attending the meeting. At least Mishaal managed to dodge the bullet in attending the convention.

The information Mr. Keller had collected in a span of 48 hours was that Mr. Reynolds was acquainted with a middle man from the Mandrake Speakeasy who his name was confirmed to be Malcolm Moore aka. Munchkin. This middle man had connections with the Daffodill Gang and the Snapdragon Speakeasy.

Munchkin was a man of short stature of 5 feet and an inch tall who had a knack of acquiring information among other things, infamously known for his voracious appetite and libidinous streak. He was a selective connoiseur when it came to entrusting classified information. Upon being surprised by the visit of the two triggerman from the Dandelion Speakeasy, he was forcefully lifted by the collar of his dress shirt and decked in the face, rendering the short pervert unconscious. Ender slung Munchkin over his shoulder and carried him out of the pub as if it was an ordinary night at the bar during happy hour.

Munchkin had a rude awakening when he came to as he found himself bound, his mouth taped shut and his vision blurred and disoriented. As his vision had regained its autonomy, he could see clearly that he was inside a room that had a slew of tools: gardening tools, pliers, a hatchet, a hoe.

His mind was still numb and empty from independent thought until his ogling orbs caught side of a bloody corpse of a man that had a bullet wound on the right side of his head.

It was Howard Reynolds.

And he wasn't the only corpse, there was another one of a thin man with a skeletal frame that had shown signs that had been bound and tortured. It was Drake Simmons, a member of the Snapdragons, Munchkin recognized what was left of the tattoo on that guy's arm. Munchkin squirmed as he realized that there were other items that could be used for torture. Containers that had dangerous chemicals: acid, powders, radiator fluid, etc.

It dawned on him that he was going to get tortured, and he shook like a leaf when Mishaal had entered the room that was built out of brick, mortar and cement. Most likely an underground bunker.

Or a subterranean tunnel.

“You have two options; either you give me the name of the rat who has swapped the cargo with watered down spirits or you'll join your accomplices very shortly.” Mishaal warned as he put on the latex gloves while Munchkin squirmed.

The session lasted nearly an hour as the short man had been disfigured, his arms had rope burns and blisters, and three of his fingers have been chopped clean off. Munchkin cried like a baby before Mr. Keller stepped out of the room and let Ender pick Mr. Reynold's dead body.
The fingers that had been chopped off were inside a glass jar filled with alcohol. Mr. Keller had picked three of the watered down bottles. The bottle that had Munchkin's middle finger was sent to the Mandrake Speakeasy, the speakeasy which received the bottle that had Munchkin's ring finger was sent to the Carnation Speakeasy, and the speakeasy which received Munchkin's pinky was the Snapdragon Speakeasy. After the owners of their respective speakeasies received the souveneir, they became aware of the accusation.

The same owners were also present at the business meeting. Manelick Drake, current owner of the Mandrake Speakeasy and founder of a haberdashery. Carroll Nesbitt, founder of the Carnation Speakeasy and current CEO of the Carnation Dairy factory. Asher Simmons, current owner of the Snapdragon Speakeasy and manager of a tobbaco factory. They were seated two seats apart from each other while they had their attention towards Edgar Chapelle, an investor who had laid out the logistics of the campaign.

“It's plain to see that the numbers have dropped significantly compared to the previous years and the funds generated are not sufficient to cover the costs that is why--” As Mr. Chapelle had laid out a short presentation summarized in infographics, Ivy stood from her seat as she left the meeting to find the ladies' bathroom. Her father's countenance was neutral but noticed how his old friend gave a poignant glance. In a sense, they were both languishing in a mediocre meeting.

Even someone as chipper as Mr. Sable was slightly nodding his head from drowsiness. After Mr. Chapelle had given his presentation, Eros Courier tried to break the ice with a joke. Both Mr. Ray and Mr. Taylor sniggered but not from the joke the manager told. It was because the message Mr. Keller gave to the other speakeasies.

“Remember the guy that poked Ender's eyepatch?” Blaise whispered to Rowan's ear.

“The same guy that had tattoos all over?” Rowan asked, whispering back at him. Mr. Ray nodded. They were referring to a man from the Daffodill Gang that got way too drunk and got frisky with one of the dancers at the Dandelion speakeasy a few years ago. The dancer ran up to Mishaal for help and protection despite that Mishaal didn't like the physical contact he was receiving from the skittish dancer. The daft gangster had no reservations when it came to insulting Mishaal and the dancer. Fortunately, Ender noticed the inappropriate bahavior and stepped out of the bar to intervene while the heavily tattooed thug got aggressive and spat at Mishaal, slapping him across the face and knocking down the pince-nez clean off his nose.

The dancer scrambled to pick up the eyewear, when the thug was about to intercept, Ender grabbed the bastard by the wrist and warned him to stop. The thug looked condescendingly at the burly Turk and snapped back. Mishaal put his pince-nez back on and saw through one of the lenses that the bloke had the audacity to poke Ender straight to his eyepatch. Ender only punched the man and tossed him out of the speakeasy, but Mishaal Keller didn't take the offense lying down.

He tracked the thug down until he found him and shot the guy from a distance, then went to chop off one of his fingers with a hatchet. He picked the left index finger, the same one that poked Ender's eyepatch. and put it inside a zipper storage bag.

“The same guy.” Blaise recalled. Mishaal had showed the finger to Ender and gave it to him as if it was a gift. Whether the Turk decided to dispose of the decaying digit afterwards was no longer of his concern. Blaise found out about it and he couldn't help but laugh at something so sadistic.

The finger had a tattoo on the side; YOU'RE NEXT.

“You really know how to pick 'em.” Rowan stifled a laugh before the meeting resumed but it at least the monotonous aspect of the meeting had subsided and when Ivy returned, the entrepeneurs were nearly done with their convention.

Mishaal and Ender had disposed the body of Howard Reynolds around 3 in the morning by a riverbank at the outskirts of St. Louis. It would only take a few days for the corpse to resurface, and the cadaver would be unrecognizable by then. As long as there wasn't a trace of their DNA attached to the victim that could incriminate them then they wouldn't have anything to worry about.

Mishaal would've thought much more clearly on how to dispose of the corpse but he hadn't slept. He had to return to his apartment to take a shower and change his attire to attend to the meeting with the documents and the flashdrive in hand. By 4 in the morning, he was already sleep deprived with bloodshot eyes and a ghastly complexion.

He had slung his satchel over his shoulder before stepping out of his apartment and had left the door open. Ender had to wipe the sleep off his only eye to be able to drive his coworker to the Chantel Hotel. Mishaal opened the door of the Earl Sedan and sat on the passenger, as he pulled the tugged the seatbelt, it got stuck. He tugged again, but it wouldn't slide down. Mishaal leaned his head back on the headrest of the seat, letting out a low whine.

He didn't even have the strength to put on a seatbelt. Something so simple even a child could do and he couldn't even do that. Pathetic.

Mishall got angry enough to pull the door shut but still couldn't clasp the seatbelt. Ender rolled his eye and stepped on the gas pedal. The pince-nez on Mishaal's nose threatened to fall off at any given minute and he started to close his eyes.

Opened them, blinked, and closed his eyes again to hear the purring of the engine and wasn't aware that he had fallen asleep until a honk roused him.
There had been instances when Mishaal heard his surroundings and wasn't able to wake up fast enough. It was as if his brain tried to recalibrate on low capacity, he remembers where he slept but his body doesn't respond when he wanted to wake up.

He can see and hear his surroundings but his body was immobile, like trying to jumpstart a car without being able to run. Mishaal had to fight in his sleep in order for his body to react. When he finally woke up, he heard Ender swear in his native tongue.

Or at least that's what Mishaal could guess.

“What happened?” Mishaal asked.

“Bu aptal yolumuza çıktı!” Ender grumbled, Mishaal had already gotten used to whatever foul language that came out of Ender's mouth. Even if he didn't understand Turkish, he could guess that it was some jackass that got in the way.
[“This idiot got in the way!”]

“What time is it?” Mishaal asked as he wiped the saliva from the corner of his mouth before he picked his eyewear from his lap.

“Six thirty.” Ender replied, Mishaal's eyes widened his eyes like saucers.

“No! I'm late! I missed the meeting! Damn it, Ender! Why didn't you wake me sooner?” Mishaal yelled.

“There's a traffic jam! Aptal!” Ender yelled back. Mishaal groaned.

“My life is over. Blaise is going to kill me.” Mishaal put a hand over his forehead, lamenting. How was he going to face his employer?

“No he won't.” Ender stated.
“What makes you so sure?”
“If anything, he would have me kill you instead.”
“You're just saying that to make me feel better.”
“No, he could give the order and I'd have to kill you.”

“Am I that insignificant to him? Am I so meaningless to him that he won't bother killing me himself? Is that what you're implying?” Mishaal began to question him, his sadness transformed into indignation. “What? Aren't you going to say something? Are you going to give me the silent treatment now?” Ender just kept silent and elected to ignore him, he refused to fall for Mishaal's provocations. “Well guess what, Ender? I'm going to the meeting regardless.” Mishaal opened his stachel to check if he had everything he needed for the meeting. He had the folder, containing the documents, the flashdrive and--

He forgot his laptop.

Fortunately for Ender, the traffic jam subsided and he was close to the hotel. He finally dropped off Keller before he drove away; he couldn't wait to return home and get some shut eye.

Ivy had stepped out of the meeting with her dad and her godfather, annoyed with the way they were already negotiating on how she would spend her time working at the cafe during the summer.

“I'm right here.” Ivy enunciated, “I can't believe you two are still deciding on what I should do with my life. I'm not a girl anymore.”

“Oh, we know.” Mr. Ray replied.

“You're still grounded, young lady. I brought you here for you to see how men work around here since you like to flirt with boys so much,” Ivy's father motioned towards the businessmen that exited the meeting as emphasisis, a suitable punishment. “On top of that, you'll start your first day on the job at your godfather's cafe as a birthday present.”

“It's not fair!” Ivy whined.

Mishaal had reached the 4th floor and rushed to reach the meeting before Blaise had caught sight of his bookkeeper. “Don't worry, you'll have Mishaal to keep you company.” Mr. Ray mentioned, “He'll be in charge of supervising you personally. Isn't that right, Mr. Keller?” Mishaal froze under Blaise's glare.