Kingsman's Return

Counterattack

"Tony." Adam walked over.

Tony turned around, saw him, and glared: "Where the hell did you run off to? I'm docking you two days' pay! If you don't like it, get lost!"

Adam took a deep breath: "I'm just here to get my things. I'll leave after I get them."

"Get your things?" Tony sneered. "What could you possibly have in that janitor's room worth taking? A few rags? Oh, by the way—what's in that garbage bag? Did you steal something from my rickshaw stand?"

Adam ignored his provocation and walked straight toward the janitor's room.

"Hold on." Tony blocked him. "If you leave, who's going to take that group of clients?"

"That's your problem," Adam said calmly.

Tony's expression changed. He had been throwing his weight around on this street for years, and no one had ever dared talk to him like that.

"Adam—" A burly Black man strode over and grabbed Adam's arm.

Jerome Washington. Adam's only friend at the rickshaw stand.

"Don't fight with him," Jerome said in a low voice. "He's got his brother-in-law's connections. You can't win against him. Just get your things and go. We'll worry about the wages later."

Adam looked at Jerome and shook his head: "No. He still owes you five thousand dollars in wages. I can't let you work for nothing."

Jerome was stunned: "You—"

He hadn't expected Adam to stand up for him.

Tony pulled out a crumpled envelope and took out a few bills: "This is your wage for this month. Three hundred and twenty. Take it and get lost. As for Jerome's—we'll talk after the project payment comes through."

Adam looked at the envelope and didn't take it.

"Not enough," he said. "You still owe me the wages you deducted over the past three months, a total of one thousand four hundred dollars. And you owe Jerome five thousand dollars in withheld wages. Pay up today."

Tony narrowed his eyes and looked Adam up and down: "Have you lost your damn mind? You're demanding money from me?"

The two thugs behind him stepped forward, cracking their knuckles.

"Adam, forget it—" Jerome pulled at him.

Adam pulled out his phone, found Viola's contact, and dialed.

The phone rang twice and was answered.

"Mr. Walker?" Viola's voice came through. "Are you in trouble?"

"Old district, Moretti Rickshaw Stand," Adam said. "Does this rickshaw stand have any relationship with your bank?"

The sound of keyboard clicks came through the phone. A few seconds later, Viola replied: "I found it. Moretti Rickshaw Stand has contracts for transport services on several of our bank's projects. The owner of the rickshaw stand is Tony Moretti. His brother-in-law is a mid-level manager in our bank's credit department."

Adam glanced at Tony and said calmly: "This Tony Moretti withholds workers' wages and keeps thugs to bully his workers."

"Is that so?" Viola's tone turned cold. "How would you like this handled?"

"As severely as possible," Adam said. "Especially regarding his brother-in-law."

Viola was silent for a second, then said: "Alright. Give me a moment."

Adam hung up.

Tony watched him make the call and snorted: "Oh, making a call? Who are you going to summon?"

He looked at Jerome, then back at Adam, his face full of disdain: "Let me tell you something. My brother-in-law is in the credit department at New York Bank. Do you know what that means? I call the shots on half the transport projects in the old district. Who the hell do you think you are to challenge me?"

The two thugs behind him laughed too. "Don't pretend you're someone important, you daydreaming fool. Pretending your phone call will do anything. It's been five minutes now, and nothing's happened."

The group walked away, still laughing at Adam.

Jerome's expression was grim. He knew Tony was telling the truth. Tony's brother-in-law really was at New York Bank, and thanks to that connection, Tony had run roughshod over this street for years without anyone daring to touch him.

"Adam," Jerome said quietly, "maybe we should just let it go—"

"Don't worry," Adam said, patting his shoulder. "Tony is finished."

Jerome stared at Adam blankly, not understanding what he meant.