You're Only Dead

by Jack Parker

  Victor's voice again funneled into their ears. "Georgie, head right. Ludkov, you go left. Give me eyes wherever you can and keep those guards away from our exit. I'm sure I don't have to tell you not to let Garner see you, but fuck it—do not fucking let Garner see you."

  The team began to split. Emery hesitated briefly as Kurt gripped his shoulder and leaned in close to his ear. "Be exceedingly careful."

  Emery looked back at him with all seriousness. "I will."

  Kurt sank back into his position against the door, hands folded in front of his waist, looking every bit the part of the door guard he'd just replaced.

  The path was as clear as Ludkov indicated. Emery and Loretta were able to navigate the winding corridor until they made it out the door nearest the commode and were at once surrounded by mingling, well-dressed socialites. Emery took it in with a casual scan. The Ivory Club was comprised of two levels. The first was a floor covered in perfectly symmetrical tables and resembled a restaurant on one half while the other half was lined with lounging furniture. A brick, blue-flame fireplace sat in the center of it. The second level above was fenced by panes of pristine glass, set up with more places to sit and a few billiard tables towards the back. The establishment as a whole was filled with a sea of perfectly oblivious bodies. Emery smiled at Loretta and leaned close as they moved through the first floor, pretending it was her he was speaking to.

  "Ludkov, did you see where Garner sat himself?"

  "He is sitting in the second level alone. The man in the center wearing a green tie," Ludkov relayed.

  Emery's eyes darted around until they found the fellow matching this description. He was sitting up above, tapping a foot, a menu propped up in front of him and eyes that continuously swept the front entrance below. He was about forty with meticulously slicked back hair and a face that looked like it had seen more than its fair share of vanity treatments. It seemed unnaturally smooth for his age. "Got him."

  "My men have texted me to say that his spies are on their way in. You have little time."

  "Don't worry about me," Emery said. He took Loretta's arm and strolled casually towards the spiral iron staircase leading to the upper portion.

  "I feel like we're being watched," Loretta noted, eyes darting about as she tucked a curl behind her ear.

  Emery patted her hand on his arm. "We're a handsome pair. Who wouldn't be looking? Anyhow, don't get paranoid. Keep your focus."

  "Sorry. I-I just never been in any sort of place like this before."

  He let out a short breath and amped up his smile for the surrounding crowd. "And after tonight I hope that neither of us ever is again. After you, my lady."

  * * *

  Victor rubbed his hands together between his knees, focused intently on the screens before him as he kept careful tabs on all of his players. This was fortunately something he excelled at. His brain was wired to multitask and playing puppet master was a nice boost to his ego anyhow. It was enough of an all-encompassing task that he was almost able to ignore Dave fidgeting beside him. Almost. He watched as Emery and Loretta took their place at a table next to Garner's, her back to the subject and Emery seating himself across from her once he'd sat her down with a perfect line of view towards the table. "That's good, Em," he said. "Don't look at him. Just keep your head turned in his direction." He could see Garner's gaze flickering up at them repeatedly.

  "It was so sweet of you to bring me here," Loretta cooed, setting her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her laced fingers. "It's lovely. Are you certain I'm worth all this fuss?"

  Emery replied with just the right amount of syrupy bullshit. "Of course you are, my sweet. In fact was just thinking to myself that this place is beneath you. A woman of your caliber deserves nothing less than a palace."

  Loretta laughed modestly and reached out to stroke his face.

  "Nice. Kurt'd be turning fifty shades of green right about now," Victor approved.

  "Sorry?" Kurt's voice came back smoothly. Victor looked over to see him still in position at the door.

  "Head in the game, Kurt. Shut up and act like a henchman," Victor ordered hypocritically.

  "So, them two blokes," Dave said out of the blue, insistent on being a nuisance. "Mr. M and that sour looking one. They're doin' the business?"

  Victor hunkered down over the monitor desk and tried to ignore him.

  " 'Cause I didn't know either one of 'em was like that. They don't look it."

  "Yeah? How do you 'look' it?" Victor harrumphed.

  Dave shrugged. "I dunno. Usually that sort wears bright colors and all that. Talk in sort of a nasally voice. Some of 'em even wear dresses—I always thought that was just sort of for a laugh, though."

  "Okay, you're gross misconception of sexuality aside, what the fuck does this have to do with anything?" Victor demanded, sparing him an irritable glance.

  Dave shrank back. "Just making conversation."

  "Well don't." Victor looked back to his monitors and took everything in. "Ludkov, don't stray too far. Where are you?"

  "The east end. I am avoiding someone."

  Victor tensed. "Shit. Who?"

  "A woman by the bar."

  "Why?"

  He could see Ludkov's arm lifting a martini glass up to his mouth. "We once had a fling. It ended poorly."

  All things considered, Victor was a little surprised anyone could survive a poorly ended fling with that guy. "Just don't turn to the hall. Keep my eyes on the crowd."

  "So, that girl that Mr. M is with…"

  Victor bit his inner cheek and eyed Dave beside him. "Emery, dude. His fucking name is Emery."

  Dave nodded. "Right. But, um, that girl that he's with. She seems nice. Who is she?"

  "A prostitute we hired to help us pull a job a while back," Victor replied, watching numbly as Georgie wove through the bodies around her. He could see through the camera on her carried handbag that she was hovering near the restrooms to protect the back kitchen entrance.

  "Oh," Dave acknowledged, leaning back. "She seems awfully pretty to be a prostitute."

  "Ugly hookers don't make much," Victor pointed out.

  "Guess not…still, she's awfully pretty."

  "Then goody for you she's a whore. Buy a date when this is over," Victor muttered, looking back towards his screens and locking onto Georgie's. "Faraday, you alright?"

  Georgie had paused, stopping in the middle of the crowd to look at some guy who was staring at her with a creepy half smile.

  Victor leaned forward. "Georgie? You recognize that guy?"

  "No," she replied quietly as she began to hurriedly march away, voice a soft growl. "The prick just had himself a feel is all."

  Victor made a face. "Why are all these high society mooks such fucking pervs? You gonna make it out of there without putting a bullet in his brainpan?"

  "I've had worse from better."

  "You're a champ."

  "Our men have entered the building," Ludkov informed.

  Victor looked over at Ludkov's feed where he could see three men filing through the door, nicely dressed but not quite up to snuff with surrounding company. The snooty maître d' sure noticed. The group headed straight for the staircase without so much as a look around and made their way towards Garner's table. "You're positive that's them?"

  "Most definitely."

  "Perfect. Hang tight, Em."

  Emery didn't reply, as he was in the middle of placing an order with the waiter for something that sounded expensive and French.

  Dave's chair creaked next to him as he leaned forward. "Have you ever been with a prostitute before?"

  "Jesus Christ," Victor turned to glare at him.

  "Well I just mean maybe it's better than being with a regular girl, you know? She might know how to do more things."

  "Dave," Victor said. "Can you not see that I'm fucking busy right now?"

  "Sure, but…well it's sort of boring, inn'it?"

  Victor made a fist, hearing some of his knuckles pop.
"I'm currently dictating whether or not my friends, and vicariously myself, and you for that matter, die. You really want me to lose focus here?"

  Dave sank back down, looking pouty. "Sorry Steve."

  "It's Victor, you dumb fucking shit-heap," he snapped. He stared hard at Dave's cowering figure before turning back around. "For the love of fuck, where did Ludkov find you? Do henchmen literally grow on trees now? Is that why you operate at the same intellectual capacity as wood? The next time you open your mouth it better be to say something goddamn useful or I'll shoot you myself. God help me, I will shoot you."

  A blessed silence followed and Victor leaned back over the monitors raptly.

  * * *

  Emery sipped casually at his brandy as he awaited the arrival of the Dutchman's spies, keeping up appearances by leaving his eyes firmly on Loretta's breasts across from him. "How's the wine, dear?" he muttered.

  "Just wonderful, thanks," Loretta replied. She was keeping her eyes on him as well, leery of giving any looks to the approaching trio.

  Emery gave her an assuring nod and watched the men begin taking their seats in his periphery. Garner was looking up at them.

  "You're late," he monotoned, his accent American.

  The man sitting across from him cleared his throat. "Five minutes."

  "Fun fact," Garner said, settling into his chair and looking back to his menu, "Anything past right on time is late."

  Emery took Loretta's hand and held it between them on the table, leaning down to create the illusion of whispered banter. "Is this good enough, do you think?" He asked Loretta, but the question was directed to Victor.

  "I don't know. Better safe than sorry I guess. Let's let 'em talk a little. It'd look kind of suspicious if you left before dinner got there, wouldn't it?"

  "I wouldn't want to spoil the evening by whisking us away too soon," he said with a smile.

  "What did you call us in for?" the same man asked of Garner, folding his arms. "You put us at risk every time you do this, you know."

  Garner closed his menu and picked up his wine glass. "We're in a risky business. So give me an update on this fat slob and let's call it a night."

  "There's no update to be had."

  "No?"

  "He's not making any moves. He's not doing anything he wouldn't ordinarily do. Just drinking himself stupid and whinging away like always. It's like I said before: he doesn't know anything. He's not prepared."

  Garner sighed and stared briefly at Emery's table where the waiter was refilling their drinks. Emery made a point to appear captivated with his date, but let himself notice the stare and give an indignant look in return. That successfully got him to look away. Garner turned back to the men at his table and shook his head. "I don't feel like you're living up to the best of your abilities, boys."

  "Don't be cryptic," said another. "Say what you want to say. If you think there's something we ought to be looking into you might just tell us as much."

  "There isn't anything," the first man replied. "We see all of his moves."

  Garner pursed his lips. "Then who was it that assaulted my accountant and stole a file with all my financial records?"

  Emery tensed slightly.

  "Because that's not just my problem," Garner continued. "It's yours."

  His spies threw glances at one another before the first shrugged. "Couldn't have been him. Don't you think we'd three be dead if it was?"

  "I don't know. What I do know is that no one else has any motive. Maybe he's just biding his time before he kills you." Garner narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. "Is this some kind of a hobby for you? I mean do you prefer getting chummy with this guy and his little fanatics—is what I'm paying you for an inconvenience or something? Someone's after me and you're doing—excuse me for borrowing one of your phrases—piss all to put a stop to it."

  "You didn't hire us to watch your back."

  "No, I hired you to watch his."

  "And it's watched," the man insisted. "At least it is from our end. It could've been the Russians looking in on you for all you know. Just making sure you're on the level. They do that sort of thing."

  Garner leaned back and snatched his wine glass again. "These guys weren't Russians. One Englishman and one American."

  "Wouldn't have been Hennessey then," another man refuted. "You know how he is about foreigners. He wouldn't take on a yank."

  "He has before. In fact if I remember correctly, and I do, his best pal is one of us so-called 'yanks'. …Oh, that's right. Ex best pal now, isn't it?" Garner snorted. "My point is: I know Hennessey had something to do with it. Find out why, or I'll scare up some spies who're worth their salt."

  Emery knocked back the rest of his drink and gave Loretta's wrist a squeeze. A job well done.

  * * *

  "Bingo. It's not gonna get any better than that," Victor said, clapping his hands together once. "Slip out when you can, Em. Take your time, eat your food, and don't draw attention."

  "We did it then?" Dave asked behind him.

  Victor quickly began to download the footage to his personal computer. "Yeah, looks like it."

  Dave nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Aces. That was easy. Can we go now?"

  "We're not out of the woods until all of our people are the fuck out of there. Here," Victor snatched a rag and tossed it at Dave. "Start wiping down the inside of the van. Get everything. The monitors, the walls, the floors. Make sure you get it all. We need to return this thing totally evidence-free."

  "Right. On it, boss." Dave took the rag and began vigorously scrubbing.

  Victor scanned the monitors and caught movement in Ludkov's feed. A man dressed all in black was moving steadily in a troubling direction. "Shit. Ludkov, you see that staff member?"

  "Yes."

  "Where's he going?"

  Ludkov's camera followed the man's movement. "Towards the restrooms."

  "Follow him."

  "Into the restroom?" Ludkov asked flatly.

  "No, make sure he isn't headed for the back door." Ludkov began to sift gradually through the sea of bodies, but didn't look to be gaining quickly enough. Victor looked over to Georgie's camera. "Georgie, do you see him?"

  There was a pause before she turned the camera in the right direction. The man was still moving with clear purpose and Victor waited with bated breath as he closed in. Then he passed the bathroom doors headed for the kitchens and Victor swore.

  "Kurt, keep on your guard. You might have company."

  "What?" Emery demanded.

  "Relax Em, don't move. We're on it."

  "How many?" Kurt asked.

  Victor watched as the man got closer. "Just one. He's headed your way now."

  "I'll intercept him," said Georgie.

  "Intercept him how? Hang on, don't do anything to—"

  "Meditate on that virtue you mentioned earlier, Mr. Scott. I've got a plan." Georgie began to move hurriedly. She came directly into the path of the staff guard just as he was about to enter the kitchens, blocking his route. "Excuse me, please. Please help me."

  "What seems to be the trouble?" the man asked immediately.

  "It was a man, just over there. He grabbed my backside in the crowd."

  The guard shifted. "Are you certain?"

  "Am I certain?" Georgie took on a tone of offended high society sensibilities and lowered her voice. "Yes, I'm quite certain. He bruised my skin. I want him removed."

  Clearly he was looking for an out, glancing around her towards the kitchens. This made Victor nervous. The guy was moving with purpose. "Apologies, Miss. I only meant that this is a crowded room and it's reasonable if not common to mistake a simple graze for something more insidious."

  Georgie successfully drew his full attention back by raising her voice. "Is that how your female clientele is treated here? Grab a handful, as you please? No need to kick up a fuss when one of us is assaulted? If that's the sort of reaction one is to expect when they are manhandled by a patron of your establishment, then perh
aps I'll simply phone the police and have the whole bloody—"

  The man held up his hands in slight panic, trying to quiet her down as his eyes darted around to a few curious onlookers exiting the bathroom. Victor couldn't help but grin. "Yes, of course, please," the guard said quickly. "The Ivory Club absolutely does not condone the mistreatment of its guests. I'll remove him myself. Straight away, if you'd just be so kind as to point him out."

  She happily pointed out the creep who'd grabbed her earlier and the guard swiftly made for him across the room while she sank back into the hallway.

  "Good save, Faraday," Victor commended. "That'll buy us some time, but that guy was on to something. We need to get the hell out of here before he gets back. You hear me, Em? Think up a way to get out fast."

  * * *

  Emery heard Victor's advice but chose not to respond, as he could feel Garner's eyes on him and had been able to for the past few minutes. Garner was alone again, his spies having slunk back into the night and nothing to distract him but the goings on at the closest table. Emery tried to pretend that he didn't notice. He occupied himself with cutting his filet of salmon into portions and smiled again as he whispered to his date. "We've got to move quick. He's watching us."

  Loretta downed a large drink and her confident expression wavered.

  "Excuse yourself to the powder room. I'll meet you down there when I can."

  "I can't leave you here," she protested.

  "Do as I say. I'll be fine."

  "Pardon me."

  Emery and Loretta both looked up to see Garner suddenly standing before their table, hands in his pockets. There was a moment of strained silence before the standing man smiled. He pointed at Emery.

  "Don't I know you?"

  Emery's fingers covertly wound around the steak knife nearby. "Afraid not."

  "Keep your cool, Em. Do whatever you have to do to end the conversation and get out of there," Victor advised calmly.

  Garner raised an eyebrow and turned his head slightly. "I'm sure I've seen you here before."

  "You might have, I suppose. Mr. ah…"

  Garner thrust out his hand and Emery shook it. "Garner. Do you have a second to chat?"