Denial Of Service 3: The Ukrainian Connection

by Steve Jordan

  “Good man,” I said. “We’ll explain as we go…”

  The rest of the day progressed pretty well. As I said, I wasn’t sure about our timing, so we had to have Kyle make Martin up, then explain in detail how to maintain the makeup job and fix it on a moment’s notice. We didn’t know if he’d have to, but it was a possibility… and messing this up would be pretty bad for Martin, so we went the extra mile. Kyle also made himself up, and by the time he was finished, the two of them looked like they ’d need each other’s help just to stand up.

  Gail had watched all of this with fascination. Early on, she had asked me, “Are you just hoping to out-scare the horror queen?” That was when I explained my full plan to her. When I was done, she nodded. “I like it. If it works.”

  “There’s always that catch,” I admitted.

  “Still,” she said, “I think we’ve got a good shot at it.”

  “I certainly hope so,” I said. “I wouldn’t want a bunch of Ukrainian mobsters after me. Especially after my girl roped me into this mess in the first place.”

  Gail responded by slapping my butt and saying, “I have faith in you, lover.”

  At that moment, my cellphone rang. “Mr. Schitzeiss? This is Kinkos. Your documents are printed up and ready.”

  “Thanks. We’ll pick ‘em up within the half-hour.” I hung up, and looked at everyone. “Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines.”

  The four of us headed for the door, leaving Pete to watch us go. “Sure you don’t need me for anything?” he asked.

  “No,” I said, “but stay nearby. You never know when things might get weird.”

  Pete looked us over. “Too late.”

  8: The spider-woman cometh

  Kyle had come to Pete’s place in his own car, which was perfect for our plans. At my instruction, Gail and I headed for Martin’s place in her car, while Martin and Kyle waited about ten minutes, then set out after us in Kyle’s car.

  Gail drove directly into the townhouse parking lot. We both took a good look around the area, whilst trying not to look like we were looking about the area, for the trademarked loitering locals or parked cars that would suggest surveillance… but neither of us saw anything. On the other hand, neither of us were professionals at spotting tails, and for all I knew, we could have parked on a couple of them. So we got out casually, and I made sure the manila folder I pulled from the car was visible in my hand. We walked to the front door, and rang the bell. Naturally, no one answered, so we retreated to the corner of the house, where we could be seen from the parking lot, and spent time in small-talk.

  About five minutes later, Kyle’s car drove into the lot. As we watched, Kyle and Martin got out of the car, and started for the townhouse. We waited by the corner until they reached us, and Martin said, “Thanks for waiting, guys. Why don’t we go on inside?” He was a decent actor, at least, though he looked a bit nervous… and that was helped along by the makeup job Kyle had given him… but in this case, that was a good thing.

  We all returned to the front door, and Martin started to unlock it… when seemingly out of nowhere, we realized five guys had just appeared behind us. We all jumped in surprise, then cowered, because I’m telling you, these guys looked scary.

  “Why don’t we all go inside?” one of them said, in a Russian-accented voice (hey, I don’t know from Ukrainian). Martin had already unlocked the door, so we were summarily herded inside. Okay, I hadn’t expected things to happen this fast… but what the hey; might as well get it over with. We crowded into the living room, where another of the men said, “Sit.” We sat, Martin and Kyle next to each other on the sofa, Gail on the other end of the sofa, and me in a chair next to Gail’s side of the sofa.

  I was brave-slash-coy enough to ask, “What’s going on?” to no one in particular, and that earned me a nasty look and a “Shut up” from one of the thugs. So I shut up, and the four of us sat there silently while the five of them stared us down. Then we heard footsteps approaching the open front door. Presently, the owner of the footsteps reached the landing, and stepped casually inside. Yes, it was the infamous Veronica… and I had to suppress a shudder. Her ruffle-filled salmon-colored blouse, black pencil skirt and three-inch heels made her look like a walking bag of pale bones, something that would have looked right at home in a Tim Burton animated feature. In addition, she had that hungry look, like someone who hadn’t had sex in quite a long time (for some strange reason). She strode in slowly, head up as if her neck somehow didn’t bend anymore, and regarded us with piercing eyes staring down her long, thin nose. Just looking at her made me think, any man who had sex with her, even once, could probably make his junk rot off through sheer force of will…

  Then she opened her mouth… and of all things, it got worse. “Hello, Martin,” she said in a grating half-falsetto voice (don’t ask me to explain what “half-falsetto” means… all I know is, that’s what it was like). She looked carefully at Kyle, with an expression of clear distaste, then over at Gail and me. “Nice to see you again, Gail. Who’s your friend?”

  “Veronica,” Gail nodded, but didn’t reply beyond that, and it was easy for me to keep quiet. After a moment, Veronica turned back to Martin.

  “So… Martin,” she started, taking a step in his direction. Martin and Kyle actually managed to shrink into the sofa. They didn’t need to act much, either. “Word on the street is that you’re about to lose your precious film collection.”

  “How… how did you know that?” Martin asked.

  Gail knew, and her eyes narrowed angrily. “ Esmeralda.”

  Veronica smiled at Gail. “She was never one to keep news to herself. She knew how much I would want to know all about it.” She turned back to Martin. “And you know what I told you would happen if you did that.”

  Kyle looked her up and down, and intoned, “Oh, God.”

  That was my cue. I suddenly pointed at Veronica, looked at Gail, and said, “Wait a minute. Is this…? This is the girl you told me about, isn’t it?” Gail gave me a warning look, but I moved on as if too brave, or stupid, to notice (take your pick, I know which one I’m going with). “You’re the Veronica! The Ukrainian girl! Who was threatening to…”

  I let that drag off, and stared at Veronica. Then I looked at Martin. And then I chuckled. “Ma’am—”

  “I’m twenty-three.”

  “— uh… yeh. Listen, I heard all about what happened from these guys… and I am on your side, here. You deserve satisfaction.” Whereupon I turned to Martin. “Martin: She wants you to do her to make things square, right? Well, you’ve got no choice, dude. I suggest you just do her, and get it over with.”

  Martin stared back at me. “ Dude?!”

  “No, I’m serious,” I maintained. “You did her wrong, man, and you gotta keep your promise.” I looked back at Veronica, and smiled. “Go ahead. Do her.”

  Naturally, this had taken Veronica aback, and her thugs were looking pretty uncomfortable all of a sudden. I guessed they weren’t really prepared for unexpected bouts of thinking. Veronica abruptly demanded, “Who are you?” And before I could respond, she finally noticed the manila envelope still in my hand, which I had begun to impatiently bounce on my knee. “What’s that?”

  I looked down at the envelope and paused, as if I was trying to think of what to tell her… and that was all the opening she needed to lunge forward and snatch the envelope from my hand. She looked quickly at the label on the envelope, then ripped it open and removed the papers inside. “You were delivering this?” she demanded, and I gave her a look that suggested that I didn’t dare deny it.

  She stared at the documents, and in a moment, her eyes went wide. She dropped the documents on the floor, scattering them at our feet. Then she stared at Martin, again at Kyle, and I could tell that for the first time, their sallow and significantly unhealthy appearance was beginning to register on her.

  “Laptop!” she snapped, making us all jump. One of her boys dashed outside, while Veronica glared at me with e
nough intensity to drain a year out of my life. The thug came back with a laptop and handed it to her. Before he could step back, Veronica grabbed the collar of his shirt and made him bend over in front of her. Kyle gagged.

  While we watched, Veronica placed the laptop on the thug’s back, and started typing. She could only be checking out the website referenced in my dummy papers that I had so cleverly crafted, giving me a background as a medical intern doing charity work on the side, so I offered another silent prayer to the gods of Mercy.

  She continued to stare at Martin and Kyle, sizing up the situation. Then, I saw her eyes soften. At least, they got a lot less nasty. “Well, well,” she said presently, taking a step back from the sofa, “it seems that fate has already taken a hand. And it serves you right, Martin… it’s your punishment for engaging in such aberrant behavior.” Her minions all gave him disgusted looks. “In this case, I’d say you’re getting your just desserts. And I don’t even have to sully myself in the process.” This seemed to please her, for she moved away from Martin.

  And stopped in front of me. “I should have my boys kick your a** for trying to get me in bed with that fag,” she said. Simultaneously, her boys seemed to… I don’t know, sort of expand, and somehow suck some of the light itself from the room, and at that moment, I was sure I looked as pale as Martin and Kyle, without any makeup. “But you actually did me a favor by being here… so I’ll let it slide.” As I started to breathe again, she looked at Gail. “If this is your idea of a good time, sister, you’d better hurry up and wear him out. Your batting average isn’t getting any better.”

  Gail wisely didn’t respond, and after another moment of staring us all down, Veronica looked at her boys, and they all paraded out of the living room. The last one out looked back at us, grimaced, and backed out, leaving the door open.

  9: The spider-woman go-eth away

  None of us moved for about a minute. I was the first, bending over and retrieving the documents from the floor. Kyle was next, with the statement, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Martin was next, with, “Dude, did we just now , like, not die? Cool!”

  Then Gail stood up, walked to the door, and closed it. She then turned to me, and said, “Mike that was the most ballsy thing I think I’ve ever seen!” I didn’t notice Martin look at her and start to protest, but a quick glare from Gail kept him quiet.

  “Well, I’m just glad it worked,” I said, collecting the documents and slipping them back into the folder. I handed them to Martin. “I’d destroy those if I were you. It’ll help to sell the situation, if you’re too embarrassed to keep them.”

  “Not without looking at them, first,” he said, and pulled them out of the envelope. I have to say, I had done a pretty good job whipping up a set of bogus documents, contracts and blood test results, all of which did a pretty convincing job of de picting Martin as HIV-positive, with a less-than-positive outlook, as tested by my small private lab. The website work had further sold the illusion, and all the effort had been worth it to see Veronica’s expression when she thought Martin was already pretty much terminal. “ Dude, you do class work,” Martin said finally. He held them up for Kyle to see, but Kyle shrank back from them.

  “I never want to touch papers like that, even when I know they’re bogus! I agree, destroy them!”

  “No problem,” Martin said. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think I really had AIDS. But… what if she comes back in a year or something, and I’m still here?”

  “Just tell her it’s dormant,” I said. “She’s not a doctor, so she can’t question that… but it should still keep her off your—(I shuddered appropriately)— junk. And maybe in the meantime, you can think of some way to pay her off with part of whatever business you go into next. Preferably something legitimate?”

  Ironically, even after all this, Martin’s face actually fell. “Legit? Dude… where’s the profit in that?”

  I looked at Gail in amazement, before I said, “You have until Veronica comes back to figure that out.” I was pretty sure Martin would catch my drift.

  “I catch your drift,” he said. Good: Thoughts leaking. All must be right with the world.

  “And speaking of which,” Gail said, “I think it’s time we took off.” She walked over to Martin and gave him a hug. Then she took him by both shoulders, and said, “You, mister, are an idiot. Straighten up your act! Don’t make me have to do this again, or I’ll cut off your junk myself.”

  “Oh, don’t do that,” Kyle protested. “There’s such a shortage of good junk in this world.”

  “Tell it on the mountain,” Gail said, leaving Martin’s side to slip a hand into the crook of my arm. “Come on, lover. It’s been a long day… I’ll bet you’d like some rest.”

  “You know it.”

  “Too bad you’re not going to get any.”

  I sighed. “I know it…”

  It was six a.m. again, when we got back to Pete’s apartment. Gail had, as promised, kept me up most of the night in celebration, and I’d even gotten her to show me some of the yoga moves she had used when she worked for Martin. Needless to say, they were great for getting my attention, and they did a lot to make the night last even longer. But I was now tired to the bone, and needed some real sleep.

  Just like the day before, as we entered, we heard the toilet flush, and a moment later, Pete came out of the bathroom. He also had the same tired expression, and lack of clothing, as yesterday morning. He looked at us, and said, “It’s getting so a guy can’t walk naked through his own house anymore.”

  At that moment, his bedroom door opened. Riley, Pete’s main squeeze and my backup Starbucks connection, walked out of the bedroom, also unabashedly stark naked, and wrapped a hand around his arm. “Please, dear, no free shows for the guests. You’re not off the clock, yet.” She smiled sweetly to us, and led him back into the bedroom, and I heard Pete intoning, “Work, work, work…” as they closed the door behind them.

  Gail and I exchanged smiles, then wandered into the kitchen. As I pulled a carton of orange juice from the fridge, I asked matter-of-factly, “Veronica was talking about Pete when she mentioned batting averages, wasn’t she?”

  “Don’t believe everything you hear,” Gail replied. “Especially from her.”

  “You’re right,” I agreed. “I’d much rather believe it from you.”

  “Then why can’t you?” she asked plainly.

  “Maybe,” I said, “because you seem to want to avoid telling me anything about your past, or your life, outside of our sexual congress. Why can’t you?”

  Gail seemed to consider the question. “It’s… complicated.”

  “I’m not,” I said.

  “I know,” she nodded. “That’s the problem.”

  She handed me an empty glass.

  It must be noted that this story’s characters and nationalities do not represent actual persons or nationalities, living, dead, or from another planet. Any similarities to actual persons or nationalities, living, dead, or from another planet, is unintentional, and if you happen to know of any, please keep it to yourself. I just ate.

  Visit SteveJordanBooks.com for original e-books, in multiple formats, at a great low price, and No DRM.

  C’mon, hurry… I’m late for my yoga class…

  Table of Contents

  1: Living the good life

  2: Martin and me

  3: From vague to specific

  4: That’s it?

  5: Curse of the spider woman

  6: Desperate plans

  7: The set-up

  8: The spider-woman cometh

  9: The spider-woman go-eth away

 

 

 
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