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Bzzt!
I pick up the phone. “Speak.”
“Hairtrigger, Ratchet, Alonzo Hammer, and Scraps all in place to proceed,” Ace reports.
That gives me comfort. Now the rest hinges on me.
One look over my shoulder shows a row of cars, with Ace waiting in one of them with his rifle. He’s got my back, but I’m worried they have their own snipers this time. Ace has been stationed there for two days, unmoved. This way, he’s got the jump on any of them setting up. So far, nothing. Just the men in the boats.
I take a deep breath, say a prayer that this night will yield fruit without bloodshed, grab my two duffel bags, and hop out of my car.
Patrovski is already waiting for me on the wooden bridge leading to his yacht. His curly hair clinging onto his bald head sways in the wind. He stands confidently – belly out, hands in his pockets – with a wry smirk. The yacht he parked today is immense. Worth thirty million, easy.
I wore black on purpose. Not my usual style, but in the unlikely event this is the night I get capped, I want to look sharp.
Kissed my girl goodbye. Hugged my friends before we parted three nights ago. Sent my mom flowers and set three bank accounts in her name.
I’m ready.
I put on my meanest mug set for hard negotiations, and head confidently toward the bridge. On the way, I notice a scope in the top level of the yacht peeking through the tinted window, as expected. Someone as experienced as Yuri probably picked out mine, too.
We stare at one another once I get to the foot of the bridge. He’s so unbothered, while I brought fire in my veins.
“If I take another step, does your man end me?” I ask, nodding at the yacht.
“No, no, no.” Patrovski waves his hand, laughing. “He only ends you if that man over there ends me.” He squints one eye and picks Ace out from his post in the car.
“Fair enough.”
“What’s in the bags, comrade? I hope for your sake it’s bars of gold for our big business venture together.” He hoots as if that moment will never come to fruition. His voice drips with sarcasm.
I don’t like it one bit.
“Gold? No, not yet. We have to make our first strides first, Yuri. It can’t be all blackjack and hookers.”
“It’s a shame. I love blackjack and hookers.” He pulls his hands out of his pockets with a cigar between his fingers and lights it.
I take my first step onto the bridge. “Now I give you a choice. You’re going to see what’s in both these bags. One you’re going to like, and one you’re… not.”
He clenches his jaw, the faux humor leaving his lips. “I don’t like games during business hours, Mr. Bullion.”
I shake my head. “No games. Just a choice.”
“Well, since I’m already getting high blood pressure from you, give me the bad bag.” He nods at me.
I toss the good bag in front instead.
“You’re going to make an old man bend down?” He snaps his tongue and crouches to unzip it. His smile grows wide. “Ah! I know that face.” He pinches the cheek and wriggles the icy skin like he’s greeting an old friend. Then he zips the bag shut in case someone walks by. “You’ve been busy, Bullion.” He gets up, hooting to himself while waving his finger at me. “You had me going for a minute. This is a sign of very good faith.”
I keep my eyes locked with his, careful not to give an inch.
“Now, c’mon. Hand over the bag of gold so we can get started on opening these channels, huh?”
I lift the bag effortlessly, holding it up by one finger. “It’s a little light for gold.”
His expression drops to concern. “What games do you play, Castor?”
He’s angry now if he’s using my real name. Good. This wasn’t meant to be a kumbaya, motherfucker. “You were never going to open your channels to me this evening, no matter what I presented to you.”
