They came to a stop in front of the hotel lobby and Vanessa looked at him with concern. “I don’t know what tonight was all about but you look like you’ve seen a hundred ghosts, and I don’t mean the Casper kind. You sure everything’s alright?”
John strained against the lingering effects of the gas and wondered what he could say. The sting of the night had left him with little to hold onto, the man who hired him was nothing but a fucking snake, the woman he’d once loved had most likely changed the locks and thrown everything he owned out onto the streets and he had just agreed to join a cult that happened to have a massive, underground bunker. Oh, and there was the small matter of the world ending in just a few weeks.
“To be honest I’m not sure of anything. I’ll be a lot better company tomorrow though, I promise. Right now my head’s a bit swamped.”
“Get yourself to bed John, and if there’s anything I can do just let me know okay?”
“You can start with showing me how you punch like that,” he smiled.
“We’ll see.”
He stepped out into the still sticky air and watched as Vanessa rolled down the driveway and into the traffic, grateful that it had been her waiting for him at the airport when he first landed and nobody else. He didn’t believe in fate but, as far as luck went, he’d hit the jackpot. She was hands down one in a million.
Another car rolled to a stop in the parking bay but he didn’t take much notice. He turned and took a slow step towards the hotel entrance when a hand suddenly slammed onto his shoulder and spun him back around. It took a second or two to register what was happening, but when he stared into the electric blue eyes of the man whose paw was still clamped tight he realized he was looking at one of the men from the restaurant. Behind him with back door open was the late model Mercedes that Vanessa had outrun, and when he glanced down John saw the nuzzle of a gun pointed at his stomach. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.
“Don’t be a smart guy,” the man with the gun hissed in an accent John couldn’t place, “and get in the car. There’s someone who wants to speak with you.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he replied through clenched teeth.
“This is no kidding. Get in car, you’ll be fine.”
John quickly weighed up his options. It wasn’t exactly the first time he’d had a gun pointed at him, and he was pretty damn good at disarming someone before snapping their wrist to give them no second chance, but this guy looked solid as an ox and had his hip turned to protect his arm. Worse still John was without the peacemaker that was usually strapped somewhere on his body, and a quick scan from the corner of his eye confirmed that for the moment they were alone. There was nobody looking for tips. His options had all but dissolved away.
“Easy there big guy,” he said calmly, “I think you might be mistaken. I’m not from around here mate. I’m just a nobody on a holiday.”
The guy with electric blue eyes and a finger on the trigger flashed a half snarl, half grin. “Sure, sure. You are nobody, and we are holiday guides.” Eastern European, John thought, definitely Eastern European. “Please, it’s best you don’t make me ask again.”
John read the guy’s face as best he could and concluded that if push came to shove he’d probably not think twice about blasting a hole in his stomach, so edged his way to the car and slid onto the back seat. His new friend was quick to join him, and slammed the door closed as the car tore off. The gun remained pointed at him as the driver raced through the traffic, all but ignoring his new passenger.
He knew he was in big fucking trouble, but just didn’t know what sort of trouble. For the moment all he could do was steady his heart rate and study some of the buildings whizzing by as possible reference points.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what the hell’s going on?” he asked as fearlessly as he could.
Silence was the only answer he got, and so he kept one eye on the gun and the other on where they might be going. They had only been driving for a few minutes when they turned off into a series of side streets, eventually arriving at a vacant block nestled against the edge of the water. The area was barely lit by a single light pole, though the lights of the city and the several boats that bobbed close by left the cracked concrete awash with a kaleidoscope of colours. The engine disengaged and John was ushered out of his seat and directed to a stretch limousine parked by the edge of the water. Through the dark tinted windows he could see coloured lights bouncing around as though a silent disco was waiting for him inside the impressive vehicle.
“I shoot much better at the night,” the man with the gun promised in tainted English, “so no funny games huh?”
John was about to offer a grammar tip but quickly changed his mind. The smell of salt water was strong and the sounds of the city were close yet suddenly far away. With the muscles in his arms and chest beginning to swell he walked over to the limousine as the rear door was pushed open, letting spill the spinning lights of the silent disco.
Tentatively and very much on edge, he leaned forward and looked inside. In spite of the situation, he was definitely impressed. Long white leather seats ran the length of either side of the interior that also held long mirrored bars adorned with countless bottles and intricately etched crystal glasses. Laser lights and spinning globes were pulsing along the roof and thick, shaggy red carpet along the floor captured the ever changing light display.
John looked down to the end of the cabin and staring back at him was a silver haired man with a manicured three day growth quietly drumming his fingers against a champagne flute. He looked like he might’ve been somewhere in his fifties judging by the lines surrounding his hard eyes, but his bulky frame was clear evidence that a gym was probably his second home. He wore a dark silk shirt with the kind of cream pants that belonged on a yacht, and called him in with the wave of a hand dripping in thick gold rings. Cautiously, and against his better judgement, he squeezed through the doorway and found a seat on the cool leather.
For a moment there was only psychedelic infused silence, but eventually the silver haired man with concrete slabs for arms broke the tension.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked with a thick accent.
“Mate, I have no idea,” John answered carefully but honestly.
“My name is Nick Takhalov.”
Russian, John thought to himself, I knew it. “No disrespect or anything, but that doesn’t help much.”
Nick smacked his lips together and then finished what was left of his drink. “There is no disrespect taken. You are new to this country, to this city, and what is important is that I know who you are.” He leaned forward and gently patted the seat close by. “Please, sit closer. We’ll drink, yes?”
As John slid his way a little closer, Nick reached to the side bar and grabbed a skull shaped bottle of vodka and two small shot glasses. He handed one over and filled it with a steady hand that looked as if it could crush the bottle like it were nothing more than a paper cup.
“People make jokes that Russian’s like vodka,” Nick said while filling his own glass, “but it’s funny because it’s true. Salute!”
“Any port in a storm,” John replied and threw back the surprisingly smooth shot.
“There are many Russian people in Australia?” Nick asked with genuine curiosity as he refilled the glasses.
“A few I guess.”
“I think I will like your country. I’m told there is much opportunity to buy big land.” He tapped his glass against John’s and together they threw back another shot, and then leaned forward with elbows resting on his thighs. “I would be there now, looking for perfect land to buy, but I have… visa problem, and this problem is also your problem.”
The alcohol was quick to loosen his gears, and John was in no mood for any more riddles. “Listen, Nick, I don’t know why the hell I’m sitting here but I’ve had a crazy fucking night like you wouldn’t believe and not exactly feeling very social right now.” He waved a hand
around the cabin. “Don’t get me wrong, this is one mean setup and the vodka was perfect, but I think this is all some big mistake.”
“Mistake? No no no. You are John Richter, and you are going to fix my problem.”
John froze at the sound of his name. How the hell did some Russian bodybuilder in a city on the other side of the world know who he was?
“Don’t look so surprised,” Nick continued, “it is really not so complicated.”
“Then how about you pour another drink and fill in the blanks?” John snarled.
“Of course, of course,” Nick sang as he grabbed the skull and topped up the glasses. “I know who you are because the man you work for is becoming sloppy. Your boss, Sebastian, made the mistake of giving your name to the FBI, forgetting that I have people inside. He is sloppy, but also very slippery, and no longer takes my calls. This is not good, especially when he has money that is owed to me.”
As the lights twirled and vodka warmed his stomach John felt the rage beginning to rise, and there was little left to stop it. He’d had enough. The insanity of the night just wanted to keep on going, and here was another bolt of lightning with Sebastian’s name all over it. He didn’t want any of it, and he didn’t need any of it, and it was time to smash the emergency stop button with both hands.
“Are you seriously fucking kidding me right now?” he threw his head back and barked. “That’s it, I’m through with all this, you hear me? If Sebastian has fucked you over somehow then you’re shit outta luck because I’m in the same boat mate. The only reason I came to this lunatic asylum you call a city, and believe me it couldn’t be any crazier if it tried, was to find some woman, tell her that her husband misses her, and then fly back home. That’s it. That’s all the job was.” Without thinking he snatched the skull bottle from Nick’s hand and poured another shot, spilling vodka onto the carpet as he threw it down his throat. “I’ve got a soon to be ex wife having another man’s baby and it turns out our friend Sebastian is helping to kick me out of my home. I’ve watched a guy get blown away, I’m knee deep in some sort of cult that’s really freaking me out and now I’m being dragged at gunpoint to listen to more bullshit! Sorry buddy, but I’m not playing this game anymore.”
“Shh, calm down my friend,” Nick said quietly with amusement in his eyes. “There are always solutions to a problem.”
“This isn’t my problem.”
“Not your problem, not my problem, but our problem. Please, pour another drink, and let us talk.”
“I’m all ears,” John said sarcastically.
“I assure you, it’s very interesting story.” Nick leaned back on the cool white leather and nodded in agreement with himself. “I am head of very powerful organisation here in Miami, with many different business interests and investments. The people that work for me, these are very dangerous people. It is very bad luck to insult or lie to us.”
“Nick,” John stammered through loosening lips, “are you telling me you’re a Russian gangster?”
“Not gangster, organisation. There is difference.”
“Oh yeah? What’s the difference?”
Nick sighed as though he were being asked to state the obvious. “Gangster chases money all the time but doesn’t know why. They look only to the next move, never at all the pieces on the board. I, Nicholas Takhalov, run an organisation. I have reason to chase money and make sure I know where the pieces are. Tell me, what do you think I do with money?”
John thought for a moment as a number of options came to mind. “My guess is real estate buys to launder drug money, but then that’s just a stab in the dark.”
“Ha! Drugs make good money, yes this is true, but this is because people like drugs so much. Here is something you will not know. All across America I have helped to build schools for immigrant children, children like I once was, and have purchased many special machines for hospitals in poor areas. I know this surprises you. I do not look like man who helps children, this is true.”
“That’s admiral I’ll give you that,” John replied with doubt, “but I’m not sure what it has to do with me.”
“It is because my ability to do these things with money has been compromised by the man who hired you, and this must be rectified.”
“Then get on the phone and sort whatever it is out,” John suggested a little too forcefully. “I don’t know what you think I can do about anything.”
“We will get to that. First, I will explain what sort of man Sebastian is.” Nick poured them both another vodka. “When he was here in America he was recommended for assistance with some business trouble, and actually he did very good job. I like America, it has been my home for more than thirty five years, but for long time my dream was to one day move to Australia. I have not always been this nice though, and when I was younger I hurt a lot of people. Some of them died. Getting a visa for your country was not possible.”
“Maybe you should try hiring a...”
“Lawyer?” Nick interrupted. “Sebastian was already working for me, so I asked him about the visa and he came up with a great plan. A large block of abandoned warehouses was for sale here in Miami, very big, and plan was for me to purchase it. He has large corporation in Australia who will build huge shopping mall on the land, and he can invest my money in this company so that I have legitimate money and ties to your country. Then, he will use friends in government to get me visa. So what happens? I purchase land. I send many millions dollars to become legitimate investment. I wait for visa and dream of feeding kangaroos. But there is nothing to wait for.”
“There was no shopping mall was there?” John asked.
“No shopping mall, no visa, no money. And the land? This was worthless, and I find out I purchased from one of Sebastian’s hidden companies. Soil is toxic. Impossible to build. This is what it is to be bitten by a snake.”
“I hate to say it mate, but I think we have matching fang marks.”
“Yes maybe this is true, but the only thing to do with a snake is take its head off. First though, I want my money. I want my money, and then he will die. And with this you will help me.”
“I think you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“Not at all. It will be very easy. I’ll send man with you back to Australia, and you arrange to meet with your employer. From there, we will take care of things.”
John considered what had just been presented and realised things might not actually be as bad as they seemed. Well, kind of. If things were what they were, going home might not be on the cards, and Nick would have bigger concerns when the end of the world came and all things with it. For now, he just needed to get the hell away from the vodka session.
“Wait a minute, that’s all you want?” John asked just to be sure.
“Of course, this is real life not action movie. Better that you work for me than, let’s say, buried by me. Besides, I am not a stupid man. I know you are here only for job, and now you have another one. Salute!”
John could really feel the alcohol now but managed to pour another one down his throat. “I don’t get it,” he winced as the inside of his mouth began to burn, “why drag me away at gunpoint if you just wanted to talk?”
“Because I have reputation to uphold,” Nick revealed. “In a city like this you survive only with power and fear. If I just knock on your door they will ask, what is wrong with Nick? Is he scared to take what he wants? So I send for you with gun, and there are none of these questions. Much better this way.” He leaned forward and tapped his meaty hand on John’s thigh. “Besides, I have all of your details. I know you are talking with FBI. If you try to leave America without my associate, your troubles will become very very big. Much simpler my way.”
“Personally and professionally I’m done with Sebastian, but if all you want from me is a rendezvous when I get back then knock yourself out,” John lied with zero regret. “I’ll be ready to leave in a couple of days.”
“See? This is smart way, good way for business to be done. It
is settled. The snake will come to the bird, never the tiger. Then, when this mess is cleaned up, I’ll try new way to obtain visa to your country. Maybe we will be friends you and I, and have barbeque in outback. First thing I do,” he announced with a rise of his finger, “is build farm for kangaroo. Children love kangaroo!”
Not for the first time that night the absurdity of the moment sent John into a sudden fit of laughter, the kind that came from a place of borderline insanity. Nick looked confused at first, even a little offended, but soon joined in even though it was clear he wasn’t sure just what the joke was.
As Nick’s shirt stretched across his heaving chest, something caught John’s eye. He could just make out the top of a brightly coloured tattoo, and it seemed oddly familiar. Now that his head was sliding into a vodka swirl he composed himself just enough to satisfy his curiosity.
“Nick, is that a Star Wars tattoo you’ve got?”
Nick grinned as though John had just spotted the magic trick and unbuttoned his shirt. “I am number one fan since little boy,” he said proudly, revealing an image of Han Solo with pointed laser gun etched across his muscled torso. “I have biggest collection in Miami.”
John was speechless and completely unable to hold back the second wave of laughter as Han Solo came to life beneath the swirling disco lights. With reckless abandon he grabbed the skull and filled their glasses once again. A Russian mobster, a Star Wars tattoo and relentless rainbow lights. Another drink was the only possible reaction.
“You are Star Wars fan?” Nick asked with sincerity.
“Only the originals,” John answered as best he could between wincing from the vodka and laughing from the insanity.
“Yes,” Nick thundered with a sudden seriousness, “there is only three movies, you are correct, and I can see you are impressed.”
“Impressed? I am one hundred percent fucking speechless,” John slurred.
The mobster leaned back into the chair with a satisfied grin. “What can I say? I am passionate man. I know a little about you, and now you know a little about me. It’s always better this way.” The lines around his eyes drew tight and muscles in his chest expanded. “You will receive envelope at the hotel in forty eight hours that will have details of the flight you will book. Then we will talk again.” He reached out and slapped John’s thigh. “You seem like a smart man, so I don’t need to tell you that your employer is not worth risking big things. Do what is asked and perhaps, when the snake is fixed and I get visa, we drink beer and learn about your football.”
The Hallucigenia Project Page 36