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“That is not going to happen.”
“Whatever. I’m going to go call Sergei’s driver and make sure they’re not on their way in tonight. I’d hate for them to make the fucking trip for nothing.” Marek rolled his eyes and headed for his office.
Before I could call after him, Anton returned, his expression grim. “It’s not blocked. There are crates nearby but nothing in front of the door.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Why would the cops lie?”
“Why do cops always lie? Someone told them to.” Maybe Marek was right. Maybe it was Ken exercising his bullshit aldermanic privileges, although I hoped for his sake he wasn’t that stupid. I would most certainly have Eduard look into it, though.
* * *
Marek made all of the “required”changes immediately and Delirium reopened the very next night without issue. Sergei was irritated but understanding. Life resumed as normal.
An entire week passed without incident.
As far as Eduard could discern, there weren’t any emails or phone calls from Ken’s office to any of the police or fire departments. That didn’t mean hedidn’tdo it but since I had no proof that hedid, I remained unable to act on Marek’s assertion that Ken was responsible. Attacking him while Sergei was in the middle of building a new club in Ken’s ward would delay Sergei’s plans, or destroy them altogether, which was the last thing I needed while I was still hunting down the Nirvana source.
Delirium’s one-night closure had almost faded from memory when another thorn in my side appeared—this time in the guise of the health inspector.
When he showed up, Marek didn’t call me. Valery did.
“You better get here quick,” Valery said. “Another city official is here.”
“Did they shut us down?”
“Not yet.”
When I came in through the back, the kitchen was at a complete standstill. At least a dozen cooks scrubbed the pristine stainless steel surfaces as hard and as fast as they could while Enrique barked orders in Spanish.
Valery stood at the edge of the barroom, arms crossed, glaring at a buttoned-up little man wandering around the bar with a clipboard. Marek followed behind the man, the look on his face alternating between fury and nausea.
“I take it that’s him?” I nodded toward the one wielding a pen and checking off boxes.
“He’s been writing a lot.”
“Fuck.”
As soon as Marek caught sight of me, he did a double take. They were still an hour away from opening, so I’m sure he wasn’t counting on seeing me until later. Once I was within earshot of him, he seethed, “I told you.”
Cocking my head, I glanced between him and the health inspector. “What is going on?”
“You the owner?”
I ignored his question. “Would you care to explain what you’re doing? We just had an inspection two months ago.”
“Consider this a surprise. And you failed. Doors aren’t opening until this is fixed.” He continued jotting things down on the clipboard.
“Impossible. We’ve never failed an inspection.”
The man chuckled and scribbled his signature across the bottom of the page before shoving it at me. “Sure, pal. That’s what they all say.”
“The ice scoop?” I furrowed my brows at the citation and looked at Marek before turning my attention back to the inspector. “You’re fining us over an ice scoop?”
“The handle is touching the ice.”
“Who is to say you didn’t push it over? And”—I consulted the list again—“a cook wearing a bracelet? It’s a medical ID! No hot water in the bathroom? This is fucking absurd!”
