Boss Cho, the Crime Lord of New York had a distinctive ring to it. There would be no Charter of Five — no rivals — no Patti Luma. To acquire the lofty title and also be rid of the old woman was worth the pathetic groveling he showed this hellspawn.
Chapter 10
Max and Zoe
Max parked across the street from the shadiest bar imaginable. It was a classic dive, complete with a requisite crusty exterior and broken metal-sign over the entrance.
After leaving Angelita’s place, he’d spent the night deliberating what he should do. His indecisiveness almost prevented him from coming. The joint’s inhospitable appearance triggered apprehension, giving him reason to ride away before it was too late.
In defiance of reasoning, he dropped the kickstand and got off the bike. He was about to cross over when he felt the shape of a gun pressing against the base of his skull.
This is it, Cho was going to do him right here. He raised his hands. “Get it over with quick.”
“Relax, champ, it’s just me,” Zoe said, dropping her two-fingered weapon. “Rule number one; never ever let your guard down.”
“No shit... especially around you.”
“I’m glad you’re here. You made the right choice.”
“Well, what else could I do? You’re my only employment opportunity at the moment.”
“Lucky me, huh?”
“Never say I didn’t warn you.”
“Don’t worry. You’re about to do something good with your life.”
“Muck doing good. I got to pay Cho or he’ll have my balls.”
“How much do you owe?”
“One hundred thousand euro-marks.”
“Wow. That’s a lot. I didn’t know I was worth so much.”
“You’re not,” he enjoyed correcting her. “The rest of it is interest.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Do you think you can afford me, old woman?”
She thought it over. “Yeah. I think I can.”
“Plus thirty thousand,” he added. “I want some getting around money.”
“Hey, don’t you play me. It’s one hundred thousand. No more.”
He returned to the bike and straddled the seat. “Nice knowing ya.”
“Suit yourself. Good luck trying to get the money somewhere else. I hear it ain’t easy getting funds in this economy.”
He contorted his jaw, knowing she had him. He got off the bike again. “Why are you bothering with me? Don’t you have any friends to help you out?”
“Sometimes you got to follow your gut and take a chance. Get it? I’m taking a chance with you.”
“With me? Lady, I don’t even like you.”
“Does it matter why, just so long as you get paid?”
“No, I guess not. Okay, you win. I’ll do it.” He put his hand out.
Zoe studied his expression as they sealed the deal. “Good.”
“Alright, what’s the job?”
“We’re here to meet someone.”
“Who?”
“A dead man.”
She motioned for him to tag along. Confused by her cryptic response, Max regretted not riding off when he had the chance.
They opened the door to the squalid tomb, flooding the drunken patrons with stark daylight. A couple of finger gestures shot their way, ones Max hadn’t seen before. When the door closed, the drunks returned to their pints. The barkeep flared his nostrils at the strangers.
Zoe leaned in close to Max. “Show him the coin.”
The coin?
“Uh yeah, about that,” he winced. “I don’t have it.”
“What?”
“I lost it.”
The unpleasant man slowly inched his hand under the countertop.
Not seeking a confrontation, she relaxed her body. “One thing. You only had to do one thing, and you mucked it up?”
“Well, you get what you pay for,” he reminded her.
The barkeep’s fingers gripped the handle of a sawed-off shotgun. She responded by spreading the flap of her jacket to show her gun holstered under her arm. The tension grew. Twitchy muscles moved to —
“Opriti-va!” Adi Vasile yelled from the back of the room, diffusing the standoff.
The man backed away from the counter and indicated a truce. Zoe responded in kind by moving her hand away from the gun and closing the jacket.
Adi went to them, holding out the silver dollar Jawbone had given to Emil the day before. “You did not show him the coin?”
“We —” Zoe said, looking at her partner, “misplaced it.”
“Good thing I came up to see what was keeping you. He would have killed you both.” She pocketed the silver dollar.
“He would’ve tried,” the brigend was quick to comment.
“Come with me.” She headed to the rear door. They followed her down a steep flight of steps to a dirt floor tunnel. At the end of the passage was a metal door with a slit just around eye-level. She pushed it open and they entered another poorly lit space.
Through the incomplete shadows they could see cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and stacked crates lining the walls. In the back was a neglected wooden bar. Hunched over the counter, the Haiduc twirled a glass of some mysterious fluid.
“What took you?”
“They forgot the coin.”
He sat down the glass and looked their way. “That coin was an antique.”
“Was it worth something?” Max asked.
Zoe backhanded him in the belly. While he coddled his abdomen, Emil moved into the light. Upon recognizing the world’s most notorious war criminal, Max forgot about the pain.
“I know her, but who are you?”
“I’m Max. Max Zander.”
“Interesting,” he said, studying the kid’s face. “Captain Chacon, can we talk privately?”
“Sure. Max, wait outside.”
Emil handed Adi a fistful of coins. “You and Mr. Zander go upstairs. Have a drink on me. Remember, play nice.”
She grudgingly complied and politely motioned for Max to go with her. Zoe nodded her approval.
When they were alone, he returned to the drink. “Zander? John’s son?”
“Yes,” she answered, obviously uncomfortable saying it. “He doesn’t know.”
“You shouldn’t have come yourself. I only need a guide.”
“Don’t blame me. It was the Old Man’s idea.”
“The Old Man?”
“My father.”
“Does he run Agarha?”
“Yes.”
Emil gulped a few swigs. “I want someone else.”
She groaned. “Should I take this rejection personally?”
“No. It wouldn’t be right to risk either you or —“
“You asked for help — so here I am.” She stepped up to the bar and leaned on it with her elbows. “The Old Man sent me for a reason. That should be good enough for you.”
“You and your old man have been living in the basement for so long you’re both out-of-step with the world. That’s what happens when you bury your heads.”
“Say what you want, but we thought you were dead. Imagine our surprise when we learned you weren’t.”
“I don’t stay down long.”
“General, why are you here?”
“I’m on a mission.”
“Mission? We haven’t heard scuttlebutt about a Vanguard op. Under whose authority?”
“My own.”
“You’re not giving me much to go on here.”
He sensed this woman wouldn’t tolerate his sidestepping. “I can’t tell you specifics. Don’t worry, once I’m done, I’ll leave.”
“No dice. I’m supposed to keep an eye on you. He doesn’t want you making messes we’ll have to clean up.”
“And what if I decline his offer?”
“You don’t want to do that. This is our sandbox. If you want to play here, then you’ll have to play by our rules.”
He accepted the veiled threat for what it
was. “I’m surrounded by hard-headed women.”
“I’m only giving you the facts, sir.” She snatched the glass and downed the rest of the liquor.
He liked the attitude. “Do you know of Markus Nerees?
“Yeah, he’s that French Industrialist. Runs Jaures Industries.”
“Can you find him?
“Probably, but it won’t be easy. He lives in the Hi-8. We usually don’t go that far up.”
“But, you can find him?”
She thought about Max. “We can. What do you want with Nerees?”
“He has something of mine and I want it back?”
“You mean you want to steal it?”
“It’s not stealing if it already belongs to you.”
She scrutinized the vague remark. “What’s going on?”
“Zoe, please, trust me. You know I wouldn’t risk so much if it wasn’t important.”
Trust? Everyone was using that word. She was sick of hearing it.
Over the next few minutes, Emil told her only what he was willing to share. She listened to everything, from the minutiae to the ambiguous omissions with an open mind. Any sketchy detail he was reluctant to speak of, she gave him leeway and didn’t press the matter. The two of them went back a long way and she knew him as an astute man, incapable of foolhardy actions. Moreover, the Old Man had vouched for him. For once in her life, she ignored her gut instinct and did what was asked of her.
She would trust someone.
The barkeep shoved two large mugs of beer across the counter. Max picked up his, nodded thanks to Adi, and attempted to down the frothy brew in one big gulp. The drink’s bitterness elicited a choke, lasting long enough to demolish his masculinity before her. Feeling self-conscious, he wiped his chin on a sleeve.
She cracked a half-smile at his swaggering gaffe. To one-up him, she chugged the contents of her mug with no unpleasant after-effects. This kind of treatment would emasculate most guys, but not Max. He liked women with zest, and Adi could tell that about him.
She took the cigarette pack out of her jacket pocket. Tapping the pouch, she pulled out one and placed it between her lips. With the flick of the lighter, she tried to light it, but no luck. A few more tries ended with the same unfulfilled results. He offered a light. She accepted the courtesy.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
Watching her smoke, he was reminded of Angelita. Like his lost friend, Adi was an attractive woman with sadness visible beneath a guarded surface. Both women also indulged in self-destructive behaviors.
The unwanted interest made her feel insecure. “What?”
“Oh, nothing,” he said, applying his charm. “I like your accent. What is it?”
“What do you think it is?”
“I don’t know, but it sounds exotic.”
She shook her head, fully aware of his unabashed attention. “It does, huh? I’m Romanian.”
“Romanian, really? I’ve never heard it before.”
“That’s not a surprise. There’s not many of us left.”
“How come?”
She gave him a puzzled look. Was he serious? If so, then his obvious ignorance was indicative of many clueless Americans his age. “No reason.”
“Hey, what about the old guy you’re with? Is he your boyfriend?”
She snorted. “No.”
“Granddad?”
“No,” she repeated the chuckle as she returned the cigarette to her mouth and inhaled. She liked this cocky American. Who knew, maybe if they had time later...
“Let’s go,” Emil said as he marched past her.
“Okay.” Inhaling one last drag, she snuffed the butt out on the bar top. “I have to go. Thanks for the light.”
“Anytime.”
The Romanians left in a rush. Zoe walked over to Max, flailing her hands around to thin the lingering foul smoke from the air.
“How did it go?”
Mulling over what Emil had told her, she mumbled, “Good.”
“We got time for me to finish my beer?”
“No.” She patted him on the back. “I’m going to owe you a lot more before this is done.”
He slid the lighter back to the drunk he swiped it from and chased after her. “Why?”
Daylight slapped their faces as they stepped outside.
He wanted an answer. “No seriously, what’s going on?”
She told him. Once he knew everything, she expected him to bolt. His body language remained expressionless, but his brain was active.
“Well?”
“When do we do this?”
“Tonight after sunset. Is this going to be a problem?”
“No.” He went for the bike.
“Hey. You good?”
He didn’t stop. “Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Trust me.” He got on the seat, cranked the engine, and sped off with not even a see you later.
There was that word again — trust. It was an easy word to say, but until someone proved otherwise, it remained only a word.
Chapter 11
A walk in the sky
Zoe, Emil, and Adi arrived at the rendezvous behind schedule. They hadn’t spoken a word since leaving the 84th one-hour earlier, and the trek was tedious because of it. A couple of near run-ins with some wayward hunters forced her to plot a less direct path getting to their destination. The travel companions were growing edgy.
While she went in search of something only she knew what, the General stood in reverence to the monument towering before him. The Empire State Building, once a grand symbol of a powerful nation’s ingenuity, had become a decaying edifice of neglected exceptionalism.
Every access and window of the unused skyscraper, for the first thirty floors, was welded shut with thick metal plates. The obvious purpose for sealing off the building was to keep out undesirables.
Zoe loosened a chunk of granite marked with a painted red diamond on its surface, exposing a narrow black gap. Emil knelt next to her and beamed a light into the hole.
“Private door, Captain?”
“After you,” she offered.
He and Adi crawled inside. Zoe waited until they were through before squeezing into the outlet and cautiously replacing the broken piece. After a short crawl, they came out into the pitch black lobby. Using torches, they waved beams around to inspect the interior. Decades of dust adorned the fixtures, masking any trace of majestic beauty the landmark may have once possessed.
“It’s a quarter to nine. Your boy is late.”
“Relax. He’ll be here.”
The elevator chimed. They drew their weapons, ready to face the threat. The door slid to the side and Max came out carrying a large duffle bag over his shoulder. Zoe flashed her beam, causing him to jump.
“Whoa,” he shouted. “It’s just me.”
They holstered their weapons. She ran the light on him to get a better look at his attire. He wasn’t wearing the slept-in clothes from earlier. His current ensemble of cut slacks and a form hugging blouse had him resembling a Hi-riser kid coming down to slum in the ghetto. The disguise would have been foolproof if not for two things: he didn’t ditch his snytho-boots or his riding jacket. Despite these conflicting themes, he somehow succeeded in creating a chic to call his own.
“You’re late.”
“No, I’m on time. You need to wind your chrono, old man.”
“Did you bring the stuff?” Zoe cut in.
“Yep, and some other goodies. Here put these on.” He opened the bag and handed out bundles to everyone.
She unwrapped hers to find clothes similar to his in price and taste. “What are these for?”
“You can’t look incognito dressed — well, like that.”
He was right. The urban commando style would be a dead giveaway.
“Where did you get these?”
“Lost and found,” he cheekily answered.
His lack of guilt with stealing what he wanted disturbed her.
She forgot he had lived his whole life in the Lo-5, where the rules of morality were warped by a brutal culture. Her empathy wanted to reach out and nurture him, but he was not an innocent boy. He was a drifter — a hustler — an opportunist — bred by his environment. She doubted what he must think of the parents he never knew. Did he believe they abandoned him to live out this life? Did he hate them for it?
While she lost herself in what-ifs, the other two stripped out of their rags. The General donned a stylish ensemble of grey, complete with a retro smoke-colored tailcoat. What he lacked was a hat to sit atop his head.
Baffled by the finer fabric, Adi stood unadorned as she wrestled with the mechanics of a slinky dress. Zoe looked to her partner and saw he was preoccupied with something in the bag. She was going to give him credit for being a gentleman, but realized he was stealing peeks of the girl’s curves when he thought no one was noticing. She moved to help Adi get dressed, intentionally blocking his view at the same time.
Uncomfortable with undressing in front of the others, especially Max, Zoe changed off to the side. To her relief, he didn’t steal looks until she was done, and only then to check on her appearance.
Once everyone was ready, Max ushered them inside the lift-car. The grinding of the doors indicated an unsettling ride ahead. As the car traveled up the shaft, the old cables moaned. The three older passengers held their collective breaths, fearing the frayed cables would snap at any moment and drop them to a crushing death.
Max eyed his wrist chronograph. He turned and did a quick inspection. He hadn’t expected miracles with these three, but he did the best he could on such short notice. Old man Pavel cleaned up nicely. Chacon looked alright. But, Adi was a stunner in her strapless number. It may have been a little conservative for the Hi-8, but it still showed off enough of her best parts as not to attract the wrong attention. In comparison, Chacon’s baggy black slacks and two-piece business formal made her look like a man.
The difference was not lost on her. “Did you pick this stuff out yourself?”
“Yep.”
“Good job. I love mine.” She lied. “In fact, I think I’ll keep it.”
He believed her, much to his disappointment. He had hoped for a different reaction. “Good. You owe me for it, by the way. I had to dip into my own pocket to buy this crap.”
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