The Free City

by Marius Pitigoi

  “But how do I know you’re telling the truth?”

  “Well… I’ll get you to him.”

  That was precisely what Dylan needed to hear.

  “Fine… five hundred dollars if you get me to his place.”

  Dylan checked his bracelet. He only had about $61 in his account. He had negotiated just for the sake of negotiating. He couldn’t believe how much he’d spent during his time in New Hope—getting his gun back, then on the basketball match. He didn’t have much, but now he was left with almost nothing.

  “Buddy, I don’t have the money. Have a look yourself. I completely forgot how much money I had left. You know I can’t lie to you. This is precisely what I have.”

  The guy looked at him in disbelief. He approached Dylan and looked at his bracelet, which indicated a balance of $61.40. He was noticeably disappointed. He had hoped for a huge gain.

  “Please. I really need to find Robert Gomez. You might appreciate that I want to find him to earn money.”

  They eventually sealed the deal. Dylan checked his watch. It was past three o’clock. He had to hurry. The guy led him to a building where he asked directions from someone who sent them in another direction. They finally arrived at their destination. Before he entered the studio, he was searched.

  “Don’t worry. I don’t have a gun on me.”

  Inside were Robert Gomez, another man, and a half-clothed woman.

  “What do you want?” asked Robert Gomez.

  Apparently he didn’t recall their discussion. That was good news.

  “Back at the market, they say you’ll pay ten thousand dollars to someone willing to play the bait. I am in some trouble and I need money. I thought I’d accept, if you still want to talk about it.”

  “Didn’t we meet before?”

  Damn, he remembered. If Dylan lied and was caught red-handed, Robert won’t trust him.

  “Yes… But I had no problems back then. I had no reason to say yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that then?”

  Dylan was on the verge of saying that it was due to fear. But that would ruin his image. They didn’t want cowards. He had to give the impression of a tough guy who can handle that type of work. But to tell him he didn’t care would be disrespectful.

  “I thought it was a good idea back then. But since I didn’t have such big problems, I decided to keep this option for when I’d need it. Like a joker card.”

  Robert Gomez lit a cigarette. It didn’t smell like tobacco. He stared at Dylan, measuring him from head to toe, as if he was scanning him. As if he was capable of seeing and understanding everything about him just with his stare. Then Robert looked at the woman in front of him, lying on a tent bed. The studio was fraught with a great number of drawings. They probably also made tattoos here.

  “So you have problems,” said Robert. “What kind of problems?”

  Dylan knew he had to sound convincing. Robert Gomez was a jaded type of man and Dylan needed to earn his trust. He didn’t have any story prepared. He wasn’t even sure that it would have been better that way.

  “I’m a murderer. I came here because I killed a man. I refused the confrontation. It seems someone is coming for me.”

  Brief and to the point. Only the major details—to show he knew what he needed. Robert Gomez had another smoke, then beckoned to the woman. She came near, also had a smoke, and then went back to the bed. It was a drug. But what kind of drug? Was it marijuana?

  “And given situation, you’re still the one who wants to negotiate?”

  “I don’t want money. In fact, I don’t want any money at all. I want to learn to do the same thing you do with me, playing the bait, to those who are looking for me.”

  A few seconds of silence followed. Robert Gomez looked like he was thinking, but it was probably just the drugs. He shared his cigarette with the man near him. Was there anything else to add? Dylan had to wait for his response, to see what he thought. But Robert seemed absent. He eventually said:

  “Have a smoke,” and offered him his cigarette.

  How could he refuse him? As bait, he’ll have to do whatever they ask of him. He was aware of that, yet he was also aware that this was a very risky game. Dylan took the cigarette and pulled in a smoke. Yes… it was a drug. He choked on the smoke and coughed. The drug found its way through his body. He gave the cigarette back. It seemed the walls were now red. And the woman on the bed looked to be Lydia. The drug had taken effect so quickly! He went near the woman and stroked her hair.

  “Don’t worry, my dear. Everything is going to be all right. I know how we can get rid of Gabriel Hall.”

  The woman didn’t resist. She let him caress her. The others watched, but didn’t laugh, even if the whole scene was funny. His thoughts were no longer rational. It seemed Lydia had somehow changed. Her hair was shorter and red. And she seemed to have lost weight. He looked at her again and realized the woman wasn’t Lydia. Nevertheless, he didn’t feel the need to apologize. He had almost forgotten what he told her. The drug took effect very quickly, but it lasted for only a very short time. He eventually understood he had been high. He remained on the bed, near the woman.

  “You’re not used to weed.”

  It was true. And he didn’t want to be, either.

  “If you’re going to be a bait, I can arrange that your bracelets are removed and you receive others. But I can’t hire murderers. It’s much more expensive.”

  Robert Gomez took another drag from his cigarette. There followed another few minutes during which he didn’t say a thing. Meanwhile, Dylan thought about how to negotiate at least some money from him. He didn’t want to do this for nothing. He hoped to eventually become close friends with Robert Gomez so that he would be willing to help Dylan afterward, too. For this to happen, however, he had to start somewhere. Dylan didn’t need making any mistakes in negotiating. It was too early. He considered the best scenario where Gabriel Hall would look for him while Dylan didn’t have his bracelets on, and he’d either walk into a trap, or he’d realize Dylan could remove the bracelets, and Gabriel Hall would just return home.

  “All right, then,” said Robert Gomez. “Let's go talk to the boss.”

  “There’s one more small detail. My girlfriend arrives today in New Hope, and I’d like to go and wait for her at subway station.”

  “Why?”

  “To make sure she gets here okay.”

  “It’s too late. She’ll be fine by herself.”

  Dylan didn’t say anything. It seemed that he would have worried for nothing. Courage should be his strong point now—that is what he has to count on.

  He stood up and left with Robert Gomez. He noticed that both the woman and the man in the room were coming along. When they left the block, he sent a message to Lydia. He recorded it in front of them in a loud voice so that they would be sure to hear it and wouldn’t find anything suspicious about it.

  “Honey, something came up and I can’t come. Come alone and get situated in your studio. I’ll tell you everything when we meet. Don’t worry, everything is fine. I love you!”

  No one was impressed by what he said to her, so the message wasn’t commented on. They traveled for a rather long time on the subway until they arrived at station 34J9. They arrived at a block that, of course, looked like all the others.

  They eventually entered a studio, which, although had a very grubby and mundane aspect, contained a lot of monitors, computers, and electronics.

  Chapter 9

  “Mr. Gabriel Hall, allow me to introduce you the team. Patrick Morris, expert in tracking and communications; Ben Turner, expert in weapons, including handmade weapons; and Austin Perry, Wayne Anthony and Sanders are agents. Hunters, they like to call themselves. Patrick Morris is responsible for this operation. He will coordinate everything.

  Alan Johnson introduced each of them. There followed handshakes and brief “Sirs” from their part. Everything was ready. In a short while, they would board a plane to New Hope. Alan Johns
on assured Gabriel once again that he had nothing to worry about since he chose the best team. Alan Johnson had added a provision in the contract where if Gabriel wanted Dylan killed but was unable to kill him himself, one of the five would do it on his behalf for a fee of $12,000.

  Alan’s job was that of a lawyer, but the company’s profit was most important. He was well aware that Gabriel Hall was blinded by hatred and would pay whatever the cost to avenge his son. He had gained a pretty sum of money from him. Although Alan had told Gabriel that if the job was completed in less than five days, any overage would be refunded to him, he still had convinced Gabriel to pay up front for five days. That way, their stay in New Hope would be prompted to be as short as possible. It was a good fix for everyone. On the one hand, the customer has achieved his purpose and spent as little time as possible in New Hope, and, on the other hand, the company would receive cash money up front, all while avoiding any rumors that a “simple” job like this could possibly take more than five days. They had rented a villa on the “Island of the Rich.” After Patrick Morris tracks Dylan down, they would map out a course of action on the spot, depending on the situation. Alan had been told that Patrick Morris was experienced, that he had been a part of more than twenty such operations, all carried out successfully.

  The Island of the Rich, where they eventually arrived, was an island in all respects. It was surrounded by an artificial lake, with only three access bridges, all guarded by the Promise Land Company. In order to gain access there, visitors had to be registered in the company’s database. The registration was valid for a specific number of days. In theory, they guaranteed that anyone could register, but only those who were not considered dangerous could enter. All bridges were guarded at all times, lest someone not in the database attempted to cross. On the isle were also surveillance points, each with a few bodyguards who kept guard.

  The perimeter of The Island was located on a piece of land that the state had leased to the Promise Land Company. This company managed it and paid an operating revenue of 50 percent to the state from the profits. It was a lot but, nevertheless, this is where the profits of New Hope came from. Since The Island was considered relatively safe, this was where those who could afford it and wanted to have fun without restraint went.

  The bars sold any kind of drug one could think of. The same stood for prostitutes. For women who were forced to live in New Hope, to “work” at The Island as a prostitute was a legitimate option. They would live in a much safer area than the rest of the residents in New Hope. Although incidents also occurred here, they were far less frequent than in the rest of New Hope. Of course, if the prostitutes weren’t profitable enough, they were sent back to New Hope. First the pimps had to cover all their expenses and only after that they would cash their errand. It was a rat race, and besides, there were women who came here for the sole purpose of going on the loose.

  Gabriel Hall was disgusted by everything he saw when he arrived on the island.

  “It's worse than Sodom in here,” he said to Patrick Morris after they entered the villa that had been booked for them.

  “Look at the bright side of things,” said Patrick. “The existence of this place makes the rest of our country almost devoid of prostitutes or drug dealers.”

  “How many silver spoons get here and then spend huge amounts of money on detox centers!”

  “It’s their choice, as it’s your choice to kill Dylan Smith.”

  “Don’t mix things up. I am looking for Dylan Smith because I want to take the law into my own hands. It’s not comparable. And that’s because the state doesn’t have any consideration for me.”

  “Society has evolved, the state is no longer interested in revenge. They only want the crimes to stop. And they do this by deporting all the criminals.”

  “What a revolution!”

  “And don’t forget the law was voted by the referendum that amended the constitution fifty years ago.”

  “I didn’t vote. I had no right to vote during that time.”

  The villa was large and had six rooms, each with its own bathroom, a large living room, and a fully equipped kitchen. Upstairs there were four bedrooms and another two bedrooms were downstairs, where there were also the living room and the kitchen. The furniture wasn’t new; one could see traces of wear left by former tenants. But the linen was clean and smelled nice. Patrick Morris installed all of his equipment in the living room. The others, having nothing to do for the time being, waited in either armchairs or sofas.

  “Do you know what I can’t understand?” asked Gabriel Hall. “If there’s no law here, how come those living across the river don’t unite and turn against those who live here?”

  Wayne Sanders was the one who was the most eager to talk.

  “There had been such cases in the past. Especially in the summer when one can swim across the lake. As you saw, the bridge has two filters, one on each end. If the first filter detects something suspicious, an alarm activates and reinforcements are sent. One summer night, more than forty fellows swam across the lake and came here with the sole purpose of robbing the visitors. There was much carnage. At least one hundred bodyguards and all the attackers died. After that, Promise Land Company built two rows of electrified fences.

  “In addition, you mustn’t forget that the state discourages the formation of gangs in new Hope. That’s why there are so many surveillance cameras. They have software that automatically analyzes in real time all the data gathered by these cameras. If a conflict occurs that involves more than five aggressors, they consider it to be a group of criminals. Then the state discusses the possibility to change the color of their bracelets to red. The aggressors would then become outcasts. It’ll be very hard for them to fend for themselves. They would be attacked by almost anyone. Moreover, they won’t be able to enter their ward until they openly declare they want to separate from the group. By doing so, each of them is moved to a different area.”

  “Is this move effective?”

  “Sometimes it is, since they otherwise couldn’t procure food. Or there must be someone wealthy enough to provide for them.”

  “Well, then, if you’re a millionaire, you can live a secure life in New Hope, even if you’ve committed murder.”

  Chapter 10

  Dylan was surprised by the swiftness with which Robert Gomez’s man had managed to remove his bracelets and secure another pair that looked exactly like his.

  They went on the subway train again and after a while, they arrived at a bridge over an artificial lake. They easily got by the guards at both ends of the bridge without any trouble. Maybe Dylan got accustomed to life in New Hope or maybe it was due to his mood, but the luxury on the island seemed out of this world to him. Villas instead of blocks, swimming pools instead of gyms, and clubs instead of markets. All of these in a city without laws!

  The villa they arrived at was guarded by two stone lions at its entrance. As expected, inside was carpeting on the floor, luxurious furniture, statues, and paintings. Art wasn’t exactly his strong point, so he couldn’t tell if the art pieces were worth anything or if they were fakes.

  The door was opened by a woman. Her name was Sarah Sanchez. She put a finger on her lips, to suggest they shouldn’t make any noise. Someone was lying on a couch with his eyes closed. Was he asleep? Was that supposed to be the boss? In front of the couch were a table and two chairs. Robert Gomez sat down in one of the chairs and beckoned Dylan to sit in the other.

  They all kept quiet. Was everybody high here? It seemed so, but this time it wasn’t about drugs. The boss had really fallen asleep. After half an hour, the wait became pressing. Dylan kept repeating to himself what he would say. He hoped to persuade him to let him be the bait. He had to. He simply had no other choice—no matter the risks.

  In order to negotiate, Dylan mustn’t look weak. Sarah Sanchez sat in a chair against the wall. If the boss wanted to sleep, why hadn’t he chosen something more comfortable? He surely had something else in another room.
Another half an hour passed before he opened his eyes. He didn’t seem surprised that Robert Gomez and Dylan were waiting for him. He turned on his back, stretched, and then sat up.

  “That’s him?” he said to Robert Gomez.

  “Yes.”

  He looked at Dylan straight in the eyes. Silence. Was he measuring him with his eyes? Or maybe he was still asleep? Weren’t they supposed to be introduced to one another?

  Dylan plucked up his courage. “I’m Dylan. I came here to negotiate…”

  “I know who you are. We’ve got nothing to negotiate. You either accept what I offer you, or you’re dead.”

  More silence. The boss was waiting to hear Dylan’s response, and Dylan was looking at him, not saying a word. The boss didn’t hurry. Dylan was disappointed with the way their talk had started. Maybe it was best to keep quiet. To wait for the proposal.

  “Sarah, give me a cigarette.”

  Sarah Sanchez brought him a cigarette, which he then lit. She sat back on her armchair. The boss took a drag and blew the smoke toward Dylan. It was regular tobacco.

  “Somebody is looking for you. You want to play the bait to get away from them.”

  “Yes.”

  That was the truth. So what? He had never hidden this. The boss took another drag.

  “I’m your only chance.”

  Another drag. The man was purposely speaking very slowly.

  “Do you know who I am?” the boss asked.

  Should Dylan answer? He would answer himself, anyway.

  “I’m Krugar. Have you heard of me?”

  Krugar…? No, Dylan never heard that name before.

  In the following days Dylan would discover that Krugar was the only one in New Hope who dealt in the bait business. And later, still, he would find out that the average price paid for being a bait was $100,000.

  This time, the pause seemed longer. They were all waiting to hear how he’d reply.

  “No, I haven’t heard of you.”

  Krugar grinned. His grin turned into laughter. Robert Gomez started to laugh as well. If the boss laughs, are you also supposed to laugh? If he could, he would have laughed, too. But he couldn’t. He was too tense.