After he got off the phone, Pascal waited for Tiye and his crew to leave.

NEWYORKER: Ghosts

This was perhaps what Tiye had tried to teach him by turning him in and then rescuing him.

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Tiye filled his mouth with beer and swished it around loudly, as if he were gargling with mouthwash.

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This was perhaps how Tiye and his guys faced the inevitable, Pascal thought.

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In the yard, Tiye and his lieutenants were already settled at a table, with drinks provided for them by the girls.

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Pascal waited for her to return to the kitchen before raising his drink toward Tiye and clinking the top of his bottle with his.

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When Pascal got off the phone, one of the girls from the kitchen came up to say that Monsieur Tiye was downstairs and wanted to see him.

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Tiye was wearing his plastic-and-steel artificial arm under a long-sleeved white shirt and was expertly raising and lowering his beer with the shiny metal hooks of the prosthesis.

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Tiye had a few extra guys with him for protection.

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The police had arrested Tiye, the notorious head of Baz Benin, and he had named Pascal as the mastermind of the operation, the person who had sent him and his men to do the job.

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What could Tiye want now?

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