American Savage

by Matt Whyman

  The little girl’s mouth quivered indignantly. She glanced at Ivan, but he had returned to his breakfast bowl as if the situation really wasn’t a big deal. When Titus closed down his call, he looked helplessly at his youngest daughter.

  ‘I have to go out, honey pie, but we can deal with this later.’

  ‘Mommy!’

  Angelica was hammering out a reply with her thumbs as Kat focused on her. She hurried to press send as Titus collected the keys for the pickup, before waving away his apology for skipping breakfast.

  ‘Everything OK?’ Angelica asked him, and assembled a smile when she met his gaze.

  ‘Business,’ he told her. ‘An emergency call-out.’

  As he made his way to the lobby, Amanda appeared in her dressing gown. She took one step in, crinkled her nose at the smell of the cooking and backed right out again as if she might wretch. Katya paid her no attention, but continued to appeal to her mother to intervene. Instead, Angelica waited for the sound of the front door to open and close before pocketing her phone.

  ‘Something has come up for me, too,’ she said, twisting around to switch off the hob. ‘Help yourselves, kids. Any problems, Amanda is in charge.’

  Angelica hurried past her youngest daughter, who seemed several seconds behind what was going on. Katya had fully expected her parents to share her outrage at the missing gerbil. Instead, they had vanished in a matter of moments. Ivan pushed his empty bowl to one side just then, drawing her attention.

  ‘So, do you want bacon?’ he asked.

  ‘I want Tinky Dinks!’ Katya told him, on the verge of tears again.

  Ivan considered her for a moment.

  ‘If you like, I can help you look for him.’

  Katya stared at him with an expression that hovered between disbelief and disgust.

  ‘How can you be so cruel?’ she demanded to know. ‘Just admit that it was you!’

  Without waiting for Ivan to respond, Katya stormed for the stairs. She didn’t slam the kitchen door behind her, but wished that she had on hearing her brother’s parting words.

  ‘Well, I guess that means all the more bacon for me.’

  Joaquín Mendez was a young man in turmoil. Ever since Angelica Savage had left him on the beach path following that fateful attempt at a kiss, he had thought of nothing but her. In making that move on a married woman, the Argentinian fitness trainer had gone against his religious convictions and called his professional conduct into question. His mother back home would be thoroughly ashamed of him. He knew that. He could barely believe that he had been so bold, and yet his instinct had left him no option.

  ‘I am wild about you,’ he had breathed back then on the path, having pressed his lips to hers. ‘I think about you day and night.’

  In response, Angelica had simply stared at him for several seconds. As ever, it had proved impossible for Joaquín to fathom what she was thinking. He just could not see into her soul, despite being so close to her. It was as if she had assembled some invisible force field to protect her every thought and feeling.

  ‘Joaquín,’ she had said finally, and for a moment he thought she might fall into his arms. ‘I think perhaps we have come far enough.’

  It had taken him a moment to realise that Angelica was referring not to their relationship, but to the run. This was made apparent to him when she resumed the stretching exercises she had been undertaking before he had made the advance. Joaquín swallowed uncomfortably, took a step away to give her some space, and then embarked upon the most excruciating jog back to the gym with a client that he had ever experienced in his career.

  Following the incident, Joaquín hadn’t intended to bombard Angelica with text messages. The trouble was her silence. Not knowing how she felt was unbearable, and so he had continued to give into temptation in the hope that she would reply. It was only when he had reviewed his one-way correspondence the previous evening and found himself scrolling the screen that he realised he might be coming across as a little intense. That night, Angelica had weighed so heavily on his mind that Joaquín hardly slept. If anything, his feelings just fed upon themselves. Yes, she was considerably older, but he sensed a connection across the decades even if she had made no attempt to express the same thing. All those signs he believed she had given him? In hindsight, Joaquín accepted that he might’ve read a little too much into them, but until she told him directly, he just couldn’t give up. When the young man finally received a response to the text he’d dispatched on waking that morning, his spirits had soared. Angelica’s offer to meet him was all he could’ve asked for. As soon as her car swept into the parking lot outside the gym, he jogged over with bare feet to meet her.

  ‘I’m so glad you came,’ he beamed.

  ‘Get in,’ said Angelica, looking around warily. ‘Before someone sees us.’

  Joaquín was dressed in a fresh vest and black jogging bottoms, with a pair of sunglasses propped up on his head. As soon as he slid into the car beside her, he dropped the shades over his eyes as if that would help to soften her mood. Instead, Angelica gunned the engine and headed off at speed towards the freeway. Immediately, Joaquín sensed his heart pick up the pace. She drove with a purpose, he realised, noting how her knuckles had turned white where she gripped the wheel. Despite being such a difficult individual to read, it revealed something about her that surprised him. Angelica, it seemed to him just then, was a woman capable of extremes. In this case, he figured in his smitten, sleep-deprived mind, what she was doing here was leaving everything behind. Giving it all up, for him.

  ‘This feels so right,’ he told her after several blocks. ‘Just me and you, going places at last!’

  Angelica responded by squeezing the gas pedal by another degree. Joaquín felt the wind in his locks and made sure the seat belt was clipped in properly. This was turning out far better than expected, he thought, as they followed the signs for the main route out of town. Only an hour ago he had appealed to Angelica out of desperation in one last text, and now, all of a sudden, here she was, apparently taking him on the ride of his life. Joaquín felt no sense of doubt about what was happening here, though he wished he’d had time to pack a travel bag. He looked across at Angelica, facing her side-on. She glanced at him, just long enough for the young man to feel a hint of discomfort about the sudden lack of attention she was paying to her driving.

  ‘You’re a nice boy,’ she said eventually, and promptly flipped the nearside indicator. ‘But this is the end of the road.’

  ‘What?’

  He faced the front once more, unsure what this meant. The ramp onto the freeway was in sight, after all. With a straight run, they could be in Orlando by lunchtime. As if to spell it out for him, however, Angelica pulled off beside a stretch of wasteland. Judging by the rubble and the weeds, an industrial plant had been demolished here some time ago. A large hoarding had been set up in the middle, advertising the impending construction of luxury homes. It bore a picture montage featuring a family in a range of happy domestic situations.

  ‘See that?’ said Angelica, before killing the engine. ‘What they’re selling here is a fantasy. Nobody looks that content unless there’s a cheque in it or they’re on tranquillisers, but it doesn’t stop people buying into it. They want to believe that’s how life can be.’

  ‘Right.’ Joaquín nodded, unsure where this was heading.

  Angelica turned to face him.

  ‘I’m one of those people,’ she told him, and paused there for a moment. ‘My family mean everything to me, but we’re not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. There are things that go on behind our front door that you’ll never see on a billboard, just as there are in every household across the country. For all our faults, however, despite all the bad stuff, I still buy into that dream for the sake of my sanity, and I’m not prepared to throw it away for anyone. Now, I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea about me, Joaquín, but I’m not the one for you. Under the circumstances, for your sake as much as mine, it’s only right tha
t we go our separate ways from here. If you want to move on then you don’t call, you don’t text, you don’t even think about me. Above all, if my husband found out about your intentions … well, let’s just say he’s a very protective man.’

  As Angelica spelled out her position, the young trainer sensed his spirit deflate like a punctured medicine ball.

  ‘Please,’ he said, appealing to her to reconsider. ‘I’ve never felt like this before.’

  ‘You’re young enough to be my son.’

  ‘It could still work. Just let me prove it.’

  ‘Trust me,’ said Angelica calmly. ‘I’d eat you alive.’

  15

  Titus Savage found Kiril and Lev at their usual table inside the golf clubhouse. The pair had ordered coffee, but nothing to eat. The second unusual thing that Titus noted was the air of tension and anxiety that greeted him when he took a seat. For two men in sunny tropical shirts, their mood was surprisingly gloomy. Despite his paunchy frame, Kiril seemed drawn, while his friend and business partner looked pallid, which wasn’t helped by a head of freshly dyed black hair.

  ‘So, where’s the fire?’ Titus asked Lev, who appeared puzzled by the question. Titus reached for the laminated menu. ‘Your tone of voice when you called,’ he explained. ‘It sounded like you were set to lose everything in a blaze.’

  ‘There is no fire,’ said Kiril, whose hatchet face seemed deeper set than usual. ‘But there’s gonna be an inferno unless we do something fast.’

  Titus frowned, ordered an espresso when the waitress approached and then returned his attention to the two men who had forced him to abandon his breakfast in such a hurry. He waited for them to speak, making a circling gesture with one finger as if to draw out an explanation.

  ‘The Crankbait Sports Saloon,’ said Lev, and cleared his throat. ‘You shut it down.’

  Titus shrugged. This wasn’t news to him. Nor was he sorry for his actions. He had personally stayed to usher everyone out, and towered over Rolan as he shut off the power, padlocked the door and handed over the key.

  ‘The place had no right to be there,’ he said, ‘taking advantage of the girls like that.’

  ‘It was a service,’ Kiril grumbled. ‘Now it’s history.’

  Titus sat back for a moment, sizing up the two men.

  ‘Are you telling me this as customers? You guys really should know better.’

  Lev and Kiril glanced at one another.

  ‘The bar was a business interest for us,’ said Lev.

  ‘We managed it for a … let’s call him a client.’

  The hesitation in Kiril’s voice prompted Titus to lean forward once more. With his hands folded on the table, he furrowed his brow and considered his next question.

  ‘No doubt your client is unhappy,’ he said finally.

  ‘That’s an understatement.’ Kiril gave a hollow laugh. ‘He wants blood.’

  ‘So who is he?’ Titus remained quite composed, despite the fact that his two friends looked so haunted. ‘Do I know him?’

  ‘He’s from the home country,’ said Lev. ‘An associate of ours, before times got tough.’

  ‘You mean before the crooks moved in,’ said Titus.

  Kiril cringed and glanced over his shoulder.

  ‘Will you keep your voice down, Titus? Anyone could hear us!’

  ‘This crook,’ Titus pressed on. ‘Would I have heard of him?’

  ‘If you keep an eye on Russian affairs,’ said Kiril, whose voice had dropped close to a whisper.

  Although Titus had never visited his father’s place of birth, he wore his heritage with pride. Nowadays, this extended to lingering on the English-speaking news channel from Moscow whenever he was flicking through the TV schedules. It was Lev who beckoned Titus closer, having first looked one way and then the other.

  ‘Nikolai Zolotov,’ he said, nodding as he sat back, as if the name needed no other explanation.

  Titus switched his attention between the two men.

  ‘A politician?’ he asked. ‘A football club owner?’

  ‘A cannibal,’ said Kiril, with a note of disgust in his voice.

  Titus caught his breath at the mention of the word. Not only did it secretly define his family, he realised with a start that he’d misunderstood the barman that night. Titus wasn’t just another aggrieved customer, as he had thought. The man was referring to another human flesh eater. He’d never heard of the individual that the pair spoke about in such hushed and fearful tones, but already it felt too close to home. It meant that his next response was to dismiss the claim outright.

  ‘Sounds like you guys have spooked yourselves,’ he said with a chuckle.

  Lev and Kiril showed no hint of amusement, which only left Titus more uncomfortable.

  ‘Zolotov made his fortune smuggling goods into the country following the fall of communism,’ said Lev.

  ‘So did many people,’ Titus pointed out. ‘You guys weren’t exactly angels when the motherland was on her knees.’

  Lev stretched out his fingers, signalling that he hadn’t finished.

  ‘The man served twenty-five years in a Siberian prison for the killing, dismemberment and consumption of a rival smuggler,’ he continued. ‘Nikolai Zolotov is believed to have slain two further cellmates during his sentence, and paid off the wardens who found him eating their body parts raw.’

  This time Titus made a face, but only because there were very few cuts that tasted good uncooked.

  ‘The man sounds like a beast,’ he said.

  ‘He’s infamous in the underworld,’ Lev continued. ‘Ever since Zolotov’s release, he’s been ruthless in rebuilding his empire.’

  ‘Anyone who gets in his way –’ said Kiril, taking over. He then finished by making a cutting gesture across his neck. ‘Killed and eaten as a warning to others.’

  ‘He’s easy to recognise on account of his teeth,’ said Lev. ‘Zolotov’s molars were ruined by years on a poor prison diet. Nowadays, he wears metal implants and a diamond-studded grill to reinforce what’s left.’

  ‘They say it also helps him to chew more efficiently,’ Kiril added solemnly. ‘Bites through meat like butter.’

  Titus listened to all this without a word.

  ‘Can I ask a question?’ he said eventually. ‘You guys got out of the country decades ago. This is your life now, growing old, tanned and bald on the golf course. What are you doing mixing with a lunatic like this?’

  ‘You can take the businessman out of Russia,’ said Lev with a shrug, ‘but he’ll never turn his back on an opportunity.’

  ‘Even if the paperwork isn’t all there to back it up,’ Kiril added, as if that was all that needed to be said.

  ‘Zolotov deals in dollars,’ Lev continued, ‘but he needs to clean the cash so it can’t be tracked back to him, and that’s where we come in.’

  ‘Money laundering,’ said Titus, who didn’t need to have it spelled out for him. ‘You put the dirty dough behind the till at the saloon, and rinse it out into the wild, right?’

  Lev spread his hands. ‘It was easy work. Where’s the harm? Nobody died.’

  ‘Not yet.’ Kiril continued to look hounded. ‘Zolotov ships out monthly cash bundles on a freight ship. We pick up ours at the Port of Miami, but what are we gonna send back now you’ve shut down his bar and paid off the girls to find other work?’

  Titus lifted the last of his coffee to his lips, checking the wall clock at the same time.

  ‘You’ll work something out. Now, I really have to be getting home … ’

  He moved to get up, but Kiril reached forward and grasped his wrist.

  ‘That barman you chased out of town. It was Zolotov’s nephew.’

  Titus closed his eyes for a moment. All of this was keeping him from his breakfast.

  ‘When Nikolai finds out, he won’t let this go,’ warned Lev. ‘He goes in hard every time. In the past, when an associate let him down, they say the man hunted down every member of his family, killing them o
ne by one, until the poor soul had nothing left in his life but an urge to suck on the muzzle of a gun.’

  ‘But he won’t just come after us.’ Kiril flattened his lips. ‘Titus, you’ll be at the top of his hit list.’

  ‘After your wife and children,’ Lev said to correct his friend.

  Titus switched his attention between the two men. Both looked like they were just waiting for the guy to storm in and chew off their faces.

  ‘You worry too much,’ he told them, and dismissed their claim with a wave of his hand. ‘This Zolotov guy is way back home, thousands of miles away. He can threaten you as much as he likes, but you’re safe from harm here. This is Florida. Relax. Enjoy the sunshine.’

  ‘He’s going to get mad,’ said Lev.

  ‘As in crazy mad,’ Kiril stressed. ‘Crazy, brutal mad.’

  Titus toyed with the empty coffee cup, mulling over the dregs.

  ‘Listen, I’m sorry I messed up your business arrangements,’ he told them, ‘but no doubt it’s just one of many irons you guys have in the fire. In a way, you should thank me for shutting down something that could get you into trouble with the law.’

  ‘Right now,’ said Lev, as Titus rose from his seat to leave, ‘the law is the least of our worries.’

  Even before Oleg Savage knocked on the front door of his son’s villa, he could tell that some kind of search was underway inside.

  ‘So, what have you lost?’ he asked the lodger when she opened up.

  ‘Well, we could start with my job,’ Amanda told the old man, ‘but that’s yesterday’s news.’

  Amanda Dias was wearing denim shorts and a ‘Save the Manatee’ T-shirt. She looked a little harassed. From somewhere on the first floor, Oleg could hear his youngest granddaughter calling repeatedly for something.

  ‘So, what’s today’s headline?’ he asked.

  ‘Tinky Dinks is missing from his cage.’ Amanda stepped aside for him. ‘It’s Kat’s turn to take care of the school gerbil, which is a challenge seeing that he’s vanished.’

  Oleg had parked his scooter on the driveway and brought his walking stick with him. He eased himself into the lobby and peered up the stairs.