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"You said'our kind.' What are you suggesting? What do you believe we are?" Tristan inquired.
When I saw the officer turn frantically from Tristan to me, I hid the smile that threatened my face. His gaze lingered on me, apologetic and terrified. Officer Carlos Maine struck me as a clever man. Despite sharing a table with Tristan, he knew I was the boss.
"I meant no offense or disrespect," the officer stated, but neither Tristan nor I responded. His hands fidgeted on the table before he hid themunder the table.
"Killing a police officer in this town is a terrible idea. It's a lot of noise, which I'm sure you don't want," he attempted to reason with us.
I leaned forward in my seat to address him. "You never answeredthe question. It is none of your business whether we value a cop's life or not. Who do you think we are?"
I didn't trust many people outside of my family, especially crooked cops. They were imposters, as opposed to the Mafia, who knew who they were. Some people referred to us as gentlemen because of our sincerity.
The officer's gaze shifted from me to Tristan before returning to me. There was no mercy in Tristan's eyes and even less in mine, but he knew I had the final say.
"Businessmen?" he replied. I tried not to reveal anything, but I was afraid that a smile would break out on my face anyway.
"You two are businessmen," he finally decided. "If I ever find myself in a situation where I have to answer questions about you two, that's what I'm going to say."
I slowly nodded. "You're a quick learner, indeed. We are businessmen. And as far as everyone's concerned, this meetingnever happened. Is that clear?"
"Yes, yes, very," he said emphatically.
I didn't trust the cop, but I knew he was scared enough to agree on cooperating with us.
"I'm thirsty," I said to Tristan, who stood up and walked to a corner of the room where a phone sat atop a small drawer.
"Hello, this isRoom Thirteen. Could yousend us one of your best bottles? Scotch? Alright, then,"Tristan placed his order over the phone.
"It's never a good idea to conduct business with dry tongues," I advised the tense man before he peed on his pants. Officer Carlos smiled timidly, and it appeared that most of his responses that evening would be just that:smiles.
Our transaction started before the bottle stood up.
"We're looking for a particular gentleman. I wantyou to assist me in locating him and then keep things quietfollowing my encounter with him," I informed the officer.
"May I ask as to what you intend to do to this man when you two do meet?" Officer Carlos questioned.
"He betrayed my family. So I plan to kill him," I casually informed him.
I waited for the officer's response. He didn't seem as bothered as I expected him to be.
"Do you have a photo?" the officer asked. I nodded to Tristan, who took a picture from his breast pocket and handed it to the officer.
"You realize I can't leave that with you, right?"
"Yes, yes," the officer stammered, his grey beady eyes memorizing the photograph. "I've never met this man before, but if he's in town, I'll find him."
"When should I expect an update?" I inquired.
"Within two days?" he asked, gauging my face which I was sure looked quite displeased,"Tomorrow. Ican get it for you tomorrow," he eventually said.
"Good," I said. I didn't intend to be away from Chicago for long. I'd only come to see Fred Westbrook because he was one of many people who had wronged my family—my uncle, to be exact. My dislike for the town grew stronger with each passing second, and the only thing that kept me seated and breathing itsthin air was the spectacular mental imageof Fred Westbrook's beaten face.
"I trust you'll keep your end of the bargain," I said just as Tristan placed a large sum of money on the table between him and the officer. Carlo's eyes shone brightly, giving me hope that the execution would go smoothly.
"Aside from assisting us in locating the man in the photo…" Tristantookthe pictureand slipped it back into his breast pocket as I continued speaking. "I want this done discreetly. You'll conduct a minor investigation before the case is dropped due to a lack of evidence. Do you understand what I'm saying?" I asked firmly, never breaking eye contact.
"Yes, yes, loud and clear," he said back. His gaze shifted from me to the wad of cash on the table.
Tristan took his hand off the bundle and let the police officer touch it with a single nod. Tome, this amount of money was insignificant,but to a police officer, it looked like a retirement plan.
