take the story below as fiction
it is
indeed I specifically deny the lead character is me
however to some extent we all start our writing with what we know...
/////////////////////////////////////////////
Cue the record, call the dance
© Final Sword Productions LLC 2004
The walls and floor vibrated from the overamphed turbopop playing in the club up front. It was after midnight and I was unwinding from too much travel and a long day’s work. Too late for dinner, and besides my body was doing one of its too many time zones freak outs. You bounce back and forth over the Pond too often and you reach a fuge state we named MidAtlantic where all time zones feel wrong. Body can’t sleep or fully awake itself. Was nursing the traditional short term expedients, a pot of expresso at my private table flanked by a carafe of the local brandy. Just another night in paradise.
Catching up on my faxes while waiting for office hours at my bank’s branch in Singapore. Had a few transactions I didn’t want a paper trail from out of where I was sitting. Phone could be wired but the odds said this time of night with a relay on the call through Sofia no one would flag it.
Felt a change in the ambient and looked up. Igor. No shadow. Private room’s lighting was too good for shadows. But Igor was like a force of nature. Two meters of shave skulled hard boy. Igor never had to threaten anyone. Waste of effort. He could kill you with either hand. He could kill you with weapons. Nothing anyone could do would stop him. Very force of nature and all. When Igor appeared either you did what he told you or you discovered pain. He never had to ask twice.
This time he didn’t even ask. Caught my eye and motioned me up. OK. He pointed towards the big guy’s office in the back. Did my usual near death litany. Was my will up to date. Would the people I had left money for really take care of the felines. I had had a good life. Wasn’t sure which of a dozen things had merited the summons. Wasn’t sure I’d be told the charge before sentence was passed. A lot of people Igor ushered into the big guy’s office were never seen again. No one asked the why or wherefore. You were just glad it wasn’t you. Except this time it was me.
Not a very long walk down the ramp to the office. A room full of people avoiding noticing me making that possibly last walk. Avoiding attracting Igor’s attention even more so. If it was me sitting instead of walking I’d be avoiding noticing as hard as they were. As it was me walking I was mostly deciding if there was any human I wanted my last thoughts to be about. Nah. Was focused on two cats in my lap purring.
Igor’s knock brought the buzz to open the door. Big guy was behind his desk. Usual perfectly tailored Milanese suit with the perfect accessories. Dressed the businessman not the voice of death. We all had our personas.
Walked myself in, stopped a meter in front of the desk. Huge oak thing out of some 30’s period flick. Big guy was making eye contact. Unusual. Normally I barely registered on his screen. I was way too small time and our circles only partly overlapped. Safer that way.
Didn’t quite come to parade rest, but close enough. Attention, respect, clear submission to higher status without cringing. Didn’t say a word. It was his show.
He spent three minutes just looking me over while I studied the wall above his head. For the last thing I was going to see it was a fairly boring print of a bad landscape scene. Bucolic isn’t my thing but it beat the probable pain I was expecting. Was willing myself to at least die well.
Then I felt a slight tap behind my knees. Igor must have pushed a chair behind me. Big guy gave me permission to sit with a small motion of his all too intelligent grey eyes. Strange mental sensation when there is hope of life after a certainty of death.
Could have sat more gracefully but at least I didn’t quite flop down like a gaffed mackerel. Big guy pointed to my right rear and my attention followed his directions.
Oh. That was the trouble I was in. Seated very quietly was Anton. I’d seen him look better. The bruises would heal and he could afford a new suit as the remains of the one he had on was clearly beyond repair. Didn’t look like Igor’s work. Too sloppy. Igor was a craftsman at what he did. Beneath the bruises, poor Anton was trying for a poker face. He’d gotten in over his head and brauva was all he had left.
Standing slightly to his rear was what had goaded him and hustled me into the over the head and drowning situation, our dear little imp Marta. More bruises than her boyfriend but none of the air of quiet submission to fate. The smile wasn’t even hidden and the eyes were always in motion weighting the possibilities. When this one died she’s charm the horns off Satan and wind up as Queen of Hell. Or fail and laugh while they roasted her in the deepest pit. Lived on her rising sign that one. No fear but regrettably no wisdom, just animal street cunning. She made sure she had my eye and then blew me a kiss. Just Marta being Marta.
Big guy didn’t like having his scene stolen. Igor backhanded her to the floor which in turn brought my attention back to the guy in charge. He was apparently ready to talk.
“You have upset the established order of things here by your actions.”
No way I could claim ignorance but I could try to minimize things. Pleading to a lesser count is frequently wise. “ Sir. I introduced our mutual friend here to some people I was acquainted with. I do not meddle in your affairs and what I do here was supposedly with your knowledge and protection.” Every word I spoke was true. It was just shall we say skillfully edited. However, I said it in the proper subordinate tones which left no obvious cause for complaint.
“What he did with your acquaintances as you put it DOES meddle in MY affairs.” For a man speaking softly he managed to convey capital letters without raising his voice.
“And to the best of my knowledge Anton was subordinate to you. Did he not make the proper arrangements to not intrude on your interests?” I was dancing fairly close to the abyss but it was the only path I saw that had any chance of me walking out the door of life instead of dragged out the rear door of death.
“Why was this association offered to him? I was not aware that you had such business associates.” Thank you Jesus. He gave me the opening I wanted without my having to whine and plead.
“These associates have many interests. I do the type of business you are aware of with them or those under their protection. I was asked properly to make an introduction. I am not involved in what happened thereafter. Not an area I would meddle in as that would intrude on affairs I prefer to remain uninvolved in. I could ask my associates to break the contact but while I can ask I cannot compel.” This was the narrow point. If I were being asked the impossible better to just say no and think of the cats as the bullet removed the front of my skull. If I were being asked something else let someone clearly state it. I had a better chance of bringing my death by guessing than letting the scene unfold.
The big guy just caught my eyes and held them second after second. Igor was behind me. One flick of the eyes and that would be the last thing I ever saw.
How long did this go on? To me it was an eternity. A clock would have counted some tens of seconds. Then he made a gesture to Igor and two breaths later I was still alive. From a brief intrusion of noise the door had opened and closed. Three sets of footsteps. Strange. Igor didn’t need help, least of all with the likes of me.
The heavy Igor steps went back to his guard position behind my chair. The other two sets went past me to stand beside the big guy. Into my field of vision came Ivan and Sonya. Huh? I thought I had understood the game but was now completely lost. Beyond to nod hello I barely knew these two. Our circles never crossed even using the same clubs and hotels. What did they have to do with my life?
The big guy solved the riddle, “Why was Anton given what should be Ivan’s?”
Over this I was facing death. “Marta asked me if I knew anyone. She bothered to have my passport ‘borrowed’ and actually looked at the stamps inside. I was asked. We worked out an arrangement.” The polite words masked nothing in this setting. The little head had done the thinking on something the big head knew was dumb and dangerous. Funny how it didn’t seem that way after a weekend of the lady’s persuasion…oh well, better reason to die than most. Quite an inventive lady when she chose to be…
And the volcano named Sonya blew like Fair Atlantis. No need to do a blow by blow. An idiot foreigner and a treacherous whore had elevated Anton the toad to connections and wealth that should never have been his. Anton belonged as Ivan’s foot stool, less than his dog…went on for the better part of twenty minutes. Ivan had the sense to shrink into himself and keep VERY still. Nominally his woman but she was the big guy’s cousin and an Ivan that liked breathing didn’t get into the line of fire on a ‘family’ matter.
I’d never seen the big guy anything but soft-spoken and composed. Never had to be. He was the big guy. He had Igor. After twenty minutes he had had enough. If Sonya was Fair Atlantis exploding to slip beneath the waves this was the dinosaur killer on final approach to Yucatan. Couldn’t follow the words. I don’t speak that dialect. Didn’t have to. No one can make you lose it like blood. The war of the worlds ended with her spitting in his face before getting backhanded to her knees. An ox would have been stunned by a blow that hard. Dear Sonya the fake blonde tigeress shook her head twice to clear it and was already rising back to full standing with the second shake. Ivan had the sense to smother her in his arms while he still had some chance at living till morning.
I didn’t mind dieing for my sins. I didn’t mind dieing for nothing. I quite totally minded dieing of Sonya having a hissy fit about Marta. Very little I could do at that precise moment but I started fantasizing what could be done elsewhere and elsewhen.
Big guy turned to me. A few deep breaths while he recovered his equilibrium. OK. Time to die. Wrong. “You did for Anton. You will do the same for Ivan.”
Now I should have just nodded and fled. I’d gotten my life back at a cheap price. I never leave bad enough alone. “ Sir. I was paid for my services last time. By people who had the courtesy and respect to ask politely. Ivan has done neither. Instead you were involved in something that never need have wasted a second of your busy night. Should Ivan not pay the fee?”
Big guy was surprised. He would have understood defiance. Not expected it but understood. Craven submission was what he expected. However by the customs I was within my rights. Barely. If I had any rights or any more seconds on this earth. He looked at me and with a little smile encouraged me to go on.
“Anton gave me Marta for a weekend on the island and Anton paid transport and the room bill. Marta was returned without visible scars or bruises. My associates contacted him shortly thereafter. So same suite, Sonya instead of Marta. If she’s as sweet as Marta was she’ll be returned in the same condition as Marta was and with the same results to follow. If she’s as sweet…no major bruising, no scars but no problems from her. Sweet.”
Sonya exploded. I was expecting that. Just clinched it for the big guy. “ Done. As sweet and same final results.” He then froze his cousin in a glare of such venom as only one relative can have for another – it takes a lifetime to have someone get that deeply in to push your buttons. Spoke a few minutes in dialect. Didn’t need a translator. Turned back to me, “ Sweet. Female. Submissive. If she isn’t in any way you will tell me.” The look on her face was downpayment for the night she’d put me through. Downpayment but not the end.
“Yes excellency. It shall be as you say.” I rose, gave a proper half bow and turned to Marta. Smiled. “Marta love, you look like you’ve had a hard day. How about a little vacation? We can play with the toy together. No bruises. Just harmless fun.” The smile on our little imp’s face was worth the near death experience. No bruises. No scars. On the outside. Where they show to the eye.
Little Marta never could leave it alone. With a musical laugh she walked up and snaked an arm around my waist. She turned to Sonya and met the defiant glare with a giggle, “Come bitch. Time to play.” Then Marta waltzed us all out of the room and on to our little payback play session.
posted by scott 6:48 AM