by Jay Cannon
The man grabbed Adar by his shirt and reached for the gun he wore in a holster in his jacket. Before the poser could say another word or extract his weapon, Adar picked him up and threw him down the corridor and out the six-foot-tall window beside the stairwell.
“How is it possible that you threw him that far?” the other man asked in wonder.
“Let me show you,” Adar said, before grabbing the back of the man’s neck and tossing him out the same window after his companion.
“Oh, my god, I can’t believe you did that,” cried a woman in a robe and slippers, who emerged just then from the apartment across the hall.
“You want to see if you can fly, too?” asked Adar, eyeing the woman.
“Oh mercy, no. Where are my manners? I’m Abigale, your neighbor,” she smiled at Adar, and shook his hand vigorously. “Those two have been terrorizing us for over two years now. I am so glad you got rid of them.”
Abigale had tufts of grey hair showing from under a scarf she had wrapped around her head. Her light brown eyes sparkled as she gazed at the alien. Her wide smile revealed yellowed teeth that she didn’t bother to brush much anymore.
“Whatever, lady,” said Adar, turning to walk back into his apartment.
“You know, I haven’t been in here since my good friend, Ethel, passed away,” said Abigale, pushing her way past Adar, her unbound breasts swaying under her clothing. “I like what you’ve done with the place. I guess it wasn’t you, though, since you just got here.” She covered her mouth and chuckled as if she were hiding a secret.
“Look, lady—” Adar started.
“Abigale, please call me Abigale.”
“Abigale, please leave. I want to get some rest.” Adar’s request fell on deaf ears.
“Did they repaint the bedroom? There used to be an awful stain on the wall that she tried to cover with a mirror instead of just painting over it. Oh look. This is just lovely,” said Abigale, ignoring Adar and moving into the bedroom.
“Abigale—”
“You never did tell me your name,” she said, lowering her voice and pressing her hand against Adar’s chest.
“It’s Adar.” Her hand felt warm through his shirt. The scents of her hair conditioner, deodorant, mouthwash and perfume filled his nostrils in a miasma of odors.
“Adar? Is that Persian? I never had a Persian before. A man who can throw a man out a window the way you did could probably have his way with me.” Abigale fell back onto Adar’s bed, opened her robe and started to rub her thin body through her sheer, pink nightie. She kicked her big fluffy blue slippers past him onto the floor.
“Abigale, what are you doing?” Adar asked, perplexed by her actions.
“I can barely breathe. Could you massage my chest?” she asked, panting as she cupped her breasts with her hands.
What the hell is wrong with this woman? I don’t know if I should kill her or have sex with her. “I’m going to close the shades. If you’re still here after that, I’m going to close the door and do sexy things to you.”
“Don’t you dare rip my clothes off and thrust yourself deep into me! Do you have lube?” Abigale asked, looking around at Adar.
“What’s lube?”
“Never mind, we’ll figure something out. Now get over here and spank me hard. That’ll make me wet for you.”
How is it these people built a modern civilization? Adar laughed silently. As much as I would just like to toss her out the window, I think I’m going to follow her suggestion to rip off her clothes and spank her hard.
***
Later that evening, after finally expelling the sex-starved Abigale and taking a nap, Adar received an urgent call from Wylyy.
“Adar, I need to patch the captain in to your UCD,” he said.
“Put him through,” said Adar, fearing it would not be good news.
“Adar, Captain Shisal here. What’s going on down there?” Shisal demanded.
“I had a crazy moment with a neighbor, but I’m okay now.” Adar was embarrassed to be caught off guard and wasn’t sure how to respond.
“I really want to know how your search for the Cheoili is going,” Shisal said impatiently.
“Oh, that. One dead, two to go. The twins escaped to another city, but I’m sure they are hiding out with local crime bosses.”
“I need you to find them, Adar. Try to keep at least one of them alive so we keep the government happy.”
“I’ll do what I can Captain,” Adar said, ending the transmission. What does he think I am doing down here, randomly killing people? It’s a planet with more than seven billion humans, and I am supposed to find two Cheoili that can change their appearance at will, he complained to himself.
Later, Adar walked down Lafayette Street and across Duane Street, headed to his rendezvous with Ahmed at Max’s. Along the way, he took note of the various eateries, attempting to match the look and smell of these food items with the ones he had learned about during his training. The variety of foodstuffs in this city appears to be so much broader than what I found in Chicago, he thought. Before long he arrived at Max’s.
Nestled between two parks on opposite corners from each other, the small restaurant was on the bottom floor of a narrow nine-story building. Adar took a moment to stroll through the parks. He was astonished by the smell of a woman, who wore a concentrated perfume, sitting on a bench next to a person who apparently had not bathed in days.
Adar arrived at Max’s just after 5 p.m. He walked into the dimly lit restaurant and looked around. With his acute eyesight, he quickly spotted Ahmed sitting in a booth just beyond the end of the bar. He surveyed the room for dangers, using his wide peripheral vision. Most of the tables and other booths were empty. Red and white checked plastic tablecloths covered eating surfaces, and the aroma of pasta, garlic and tomato sauce filled the air. Though he was unable to match the aromas to the words he had learned, Adar did not find the fragrances repulsive. Still, he longed for the smell of raw meat.
“Can I help you?” asked a short, round, dark-haired man, walking up to Adar.
“I’m here to see Ahmed,” Adar replied, pointing towards the booth where Ahmed was seated.
“You may go ahead and seat yourself. Here is a menu,” the man said, offering him a plastic-bound volume.
Adar waved away the menu and walked towards Ahmed, who was sitting in a booth across from a balding, dark-haired man with a large gut that prevented him from buttoning his coat. As the alien approached, Ahmed eyed him and gave him a quick head nod before standing up.
“Adar, I’m glad you could make it,” Ahmed said, waving a hand toward his dinner companion. “This is Luigi. He runs things here.”
“Hello, Luigi. I’m Adar.” He held out his hand to Luigi, though the gesture felt awkward.
Luigi, looked at Adar above shiny, half-rim glasses as he devoured a plate of lasagna. Sauce from the pasta had dribbled down his chin and the front of his starched white shirt. Luigi grimaced, displeased by Adar’s unusual looks.
“You some kind of hippy freak or skinhead? I don’t want to deal with your kind. I don’t care how badass you are,” Luigi said, waving Adar away angrily.
“I’m none of that. I’m someone who knows how to kill people.” Why would this stupid human call me that before even talking to me? Considering this small bar is his office, this is probably the wrong person for me to be meeting. The smell of dirt and mold in here tells me this is an old, poorly kept establishment, which is probably indicative of how he runs his business.
“Either way, I don’t trust you. Skinheads have been trying to make inroads on my territory for years. You think I’m going to bring one of them into the fold? Not going to happen.” Luigi returned to eating his food and ignored Adar.
“Maybe I should join them and see if they could use my services to get rid of you and your people,” said Adar, flipping on his personal, protective shield, expecting an outbreak of violence at any moment, violence that he would initiate.
“Ma
ybe we should fill you full of lead and throw you in the East River. Boys, take out this trash,” Luigi snarled, without even looking up from his plate.
Someone punched Adar in the back. Shaking off the blow, he turned and stabbed the attacker in the chest with his spear. Two other men drew their guns and began shooting at Adar, who responded by leaping toward them and slicing off the arm of one and the head of the other.
“What kind of demon are you?” screamed Luigi, jumping to his feet and knocking the food to the floor.
“The kind who does not like to be threatened,” Adar replied, stabbing Luigi in the chest.
This action precipitated more gunfire from the other end of the bar. Adar pulled out his photon rifle and quickly took out the shooters who had scattered across the restaurant to find cover. When it was all over, seven men lay dead on the floor, and one man stood shaking in the middle of the bar, his pants wet with urine. Tossing his gun to the floor, he made a show of raising his hands before the attacking alien.
“Please don’t kill me, I’m unarmed,” the man pleaded, falling to his knees.
The attack by Luigi angered Adar. This group of people tried to kill him. But his personal code wouldn’t let him kill an unarmed man who wasn’t threatening him. It wasn’t enough to be stuck on this backward, low-tech planet full of weaklings. He also had to hide his identity. Out of the billions of galaxies in space these people think they are the only intelligent life that exists. And I use that term loosely. Maybe I should just go to other gang areas and take turns fighting for different sides. I’d have some fun and help clean up the gene pool in this place while waiting for the Cheoili to show up again.
“You can go, but keep this incident to yourself,” said Adar, wiping his spear on the pants leg of one of the men he had just slain. “I’m not interested in a discussion with the authorities.”
Bang! A shot rang out coming from the gun Ahmed held, killing the man on his knees.
“We can’t leave witnesses that might seek retribution or call the cops. Let’s get out of here,” Ahmed said, before he beckoned for Adar to follow him out a rear door. The pair then walked quickly down the alley away from Max’s.
“If what you said back there is true, why should I let you live?” Adar stopped as they neared the end of the alley to confront Ahmed.
“Because I’m on your side,” said Ahmed, grinning.
“Since when? Since you led me into that ambush?” Adar asked, placing his hand on the spear under his coat.
“I got you the meeting with Luigi like you requested. Why did you pick a fight with him?” Ahmed felt cold fingers of dread climbing his spine as he stared at Adar’s strange face. Was death closing in on him, he wondered, as a wave of panic shook him. He knew he couldn’t stop this madman from killing him.
“He picked the fight with me!” Adar countered, bristling at the accusation.
“Same thing in the end. They’re all dead. Why didn’t those bullets hurt you, and where did you get your laser rifle?” Ahmed peppered the alien with questions, hoping to distract him and learn more about the odd person standing before him.
Adar stopped and scrutinized Ahmed. I really should kill this one. He knows too much.
“From your looks and behavior, you need someone to help you navigate the territory here,” Ahmed added quickly.
“I can get around just fine. I have a digital map.” Adar raised his UCD in the air as if Ahmed would understand it.
“That’s what I mean, your English is a bit rusty. You may know the physical landscape of New York, but you don’t know the political landscape.” Ahmed slapped the back of his hand into the palm of the other one as if the alien would understand the gesture.
Though he didn’t follow some of what this Ahmed said, Adar heard the man’s heartbeat speed up. He also saw beads of sweat emerge on the human’s brow and smelled fear emanating from the man when he panicked.
“Fine, but if you cross me, I will kill you,” he warned, moving his hand away from the shaft of his spear and resuming his march down the alley.
Heaving a deep sigh of relief, Ahmed hurried his steps to keep up. “I think we already covered that. By the way, I know another guy you should meet. He will be happy to hear you took out Luigi,” he suggested helpfully.
Placing a hand on Adar’s shoulder only to have it shrugged off, Ahmed turned right when they reached the sidewalk, leading Adar towards Chelsea.
“Since you know a lot of people around here, I’m trying to find two women. They are probably hanging out with mobsters.”
“I know Sharon and Sheila who are part of Charlie’s crew.”
“They would have arrived here a few days ago,” Adar advised.
“It’s not them, then. They’ve been around for a while. I don’t know anyone else like you described.” Ahmed relaxed, knowing he had dodged a bullet and maybe made a new friend.
“Okay, let’s go meet this other guy you know.” Adar scanned his surroundings for danger as he walked, checking whether anyone had followed them from the restaurant. He was still uncomfortable with Ahmed, but finding a new contact might take longer alone and increase his chances of being exposed.
“Wow, a contraction. Your English is improving.” Ahmed laughed, hoping to get Adar to relax.
Adar shook his head and moved down the street, not understanding Ahmed’s attempt at humor.
Chapter 9
One Woman in a Man’s World
At Harry Moran’s offices in Manhattan, crime bosses from across the borough sat around the long mahogany table, discussing how to split up the territory vacated by a newly deceased boss.
Harry puffed on a cigar after tapping ashes delicately into a bulky, crystal ashtray. Diamond cufflinks sparkled in the light as he adjusted the sleeves of his Armani suit. His short, round body filled the comfy leather armchair at the head of the table. Harry rubbed his chubby, red face in exasperation as he looked around the table at the other bosses, who came to the meeting dressed to the nines in their custom-tailored suits and wing-tip shoes. His gaze lingered on the person seated directly opposite him at the other end of the table, who was making demands of him.
All of the bosses who reported to Harry were men, except for this woman, who now rose from her chair and slapped both hands loudly on the table’s surface, yelling at Harry about the lack of equitable treatment from him and the other bosses.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THAT TERRITORY IS NOT MINE?” shouted Toni, her eyes fixed on Harry’s. “I ran the books, I handled the transfer of goods and I kept the bitches in line, most of them men.”
Toni Stapleton belonged to the mob family run by Harry Moran. For the most part, the family ran organized crime across Manhattan, its main rackets being drugs, prostitution, stolen goods, and identity theft. Recently the Moran family moved into hacking businesses and selling the intellectual property they stole on the Dark Web.
“I don’t mean to imply that you didn’t work hard,” said Harry, calmly. “But when a boss dies, his territory passes to one of his lieutenants. You’ll still be part of the family, though.” Harry added that last assurance, hoping to assuage Toni’s concerns.
“That boss was my husband!” she retorted, pounding her fist on the table.
“And he died screwing my wife!” Harry said, slapping his hand on the table and looking at Toni as if to place some of the blame on her.
“No one ever accused him of being a saint, but that territory should still pass to me.” Toni jabbed her finger in her chest to accentuate her point, then took her seat.
Toni had a brilliant business mind, along with strong ambitions. She thumbed her nose at the crumbs Harry offered her. Serving for years as her husband’s enforcer, she had struck fear into the lower ranks of the organization, all the way down to the people on the street. Toni had a slender body, long, well-groomed blond hair, perfectly manicured nails and disarming big blue eyes.
With her stylish wardrobe and fit body, Toni could easily be mistaken for a Cosmo cover
girl. However, anyone who treated her like one soon felt her wrath. She would eagerly punch a person in the face or cut up anyone who crossed her. She also used her looks to control men, not just to attract them.
“Look, I’m going to split your husband’s territory equally between Samuel, Lee, and Jackson, and that’s the end of it.” Harry abruptly waved his hands across the table, indicating that the discussion was over.
“Oh, the snakes-on-a-plane brothers. You know what happened to the snakes in the end, don’t you?” Toni tapped her perfectly manicured fingernails on the tabletop and showed her displeasure by contorting her face and narrowing her eyes.
“We’re not brothers, and that attitude is not going to get you any closer to what you want,” snarled Lee Jones, a robust, dapper man with dark hair and hazel eyes in his late 30s. Lee had long coveted Toni from afar. He always clocked Toni’s movements when they occupied the same room. “I’d be willing to share operation of my territory, if you’d be willing to give up something.”
“I’m no whore, Lee!” Toni protested, leaning forward to cross and re-cross her long legs.
“I never used that word. You’re not listening to me. Can’t we just have a discussion without all the acrimony?” Lee implored as he extended a meaty hand toward the woman, palm upward. He gazed at Toni with open admiration on his sweaty, florid face.
“Sure, but I hope you understand that I have a certain antipathy toward men that treat me like a piece of meat.” Her eyes flashed fire for a second, before a weary sigh escaped her. Holding Lee’s gaze, she added, “Come by the club tonight. We can talk after the show.”
Toni then grabbed her coat and stalked out of the conference room, her thoughts churning. I would love nothing more than to carve those three morons up and feed them to rats. This deal is far from over, fellas, far from over.
Lee watched Toni leave the room, lust in his eyes. He hoped he could mend things with Toni once they connected at her club. Gosh, I would love to have Toni as my woman, he thought.