Brigends (The Final War Series Book 1) (10 page)

In his head, he saw his aptitudes as abnormal. There was no one else like him... except now her. She had given him a run to remember. She had been the only one who ever could.

Usually riding with no particular place to go helped him balance his anxieties, but the events of the lousy day were more than a joyride could fix. He tried calling Dinx, but the transmission went unanswered. He didn’t blame him. If given a choice, he wouldn’t have anything to do with himself either.

When he finally cared to notice, he saw where he was heading. He could have stopped and gone elsewhere, but he made a choice to keep going.

Maybe she would be happy to see him. It wasn’t like she could rat him out again to Cho.

He got to Flatbush just after midnight. Midline Heights had the worst tenements in all the Lo-5. Called Munk Sleights by its residents, there were more cockroaches per square block than the total human population of the city. Running water was available only to the slumlords and electrical allotments to the tenants went for top dollar. Angie was lucky; not many Lo-enders had it that good.

He didn’t see her working at the Lounge, which meant she was probably in her flat on the twenty-first floor of high-rise Number Five.

Angelita pulled the door and it almost fell off its hinges. Struggling with the metal slab, she grunted her disappointment at finding him standing on her doorstep. “Terrific.”

“Were you expecting someone else?”

“As a matter of fact, yes I was. I got company coming over.”

The girl was dolled up in a molten pink negligee, with black nets on her long legs, and spiked pink heels on her petite feet. The dermo-glyphs on her oiled body enhanced the seductive number, leaving nothing to the imagination. She was ready to
entertain
.

“Can I come in? I promise to get out before your guest shows up.”

“Muck no.”

“Oh, come on.”

“No, Max. What if your mother finds out you were here?”

He wanted to laugh at her displaced paranoia. If Patti ever found out Angie was moonlighting with clients from the club, she would sack the girl straight out of a job quick — never mind her affair with him. Luckily, for the young Latina, he knew how to keep a secret.

“Really? You pick now to start worrying about Patti?”

“It’s not like before and you know it.”

Her stance shifted to one leg, revealing a red crescent glyph along her inner thigh.

“When did you get the new dermo? You didn’t have it the last time we —”

“You shouldn’t be here, not with Cho after you.” She shifted back to hide the art.

“Well, don’t worry yourself none. Things got fixed. I had to make a deal.”

“Ha! What kinda deal?”

“Let’s just say I’m not stellar yet, but I’m getting there.”

“Does that mean you’re still pissed at me?” She puffed her bottom lip.

“No. You had to do what you did. I get it.” He believed what he was telling her.

Angelita hadn’t expected him to be okay with her so soon. If he had thrown her under the wheel to Cho, the way she did to him, she would have come after his manhood. Why he wasn’t upset, she didn’t care.

He could smell the opium-laced shisha wafting out of her flat. The flickering light of the hall illuminated the pinpoints of her pupils. He hated when she used.

“I guess that’s that, huh?”

“Yeah.”

She tried to shut the door. He would’ve been content with letting her, but he was never good at giving up easily. He held the heavy slab off-kilter. She knew she couldn’t overpower him, so she let him have his say.

“If I asked you to run away with me, would you?”

“Where’d we go?”

“Canada. We’d go to Canada.”

“How? You need money, lots of it to get a visa.”

“There might be a way. I got a job lined up. If it pays good, then I’ll have the money.”

She looked at him, trying to figure out if he was serious. He waited for her answer.

“Well, would you?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“You know why. You don’t want me.”

“That’s not true.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Max. I’m a big girl.”

He pushed the slab open wider.

“I’m being serious.”

“You’re just dreaming again.”

“Angie, haven’t you ever wanted a better life?” He pulled her to him and ran a hand under the loose silk. “Imagine you and me... free from all of this.”

She flinched, but didn’t resist. “Stop it.”

He traced the path of her oldest glyph diagonally across her waist, along the spiraling wave of raised flesh. He leaned in for a kiss, but she pulled against his grip.

“Stop... please.”

He ignored her resistance and brought her closer. She couldn’t help herself; she yielded and they kissed. His fingers danced up her belly, gently tickling the sweet spot under her right breast. He brushed the nipple, eliciting a rise. His electricity was too much for her to handle and she faltered to his will, as she was prone to do. She lusted for him.

But, her willpower prevailed. She would not allow him to persuade her in that way again. Twisting her body, she signaled for him to stop. He let go.

“No... I’m happy with my life... I like where I am.”

Her acceptance of this fate wasn’t surprising.

“I guess I already knew what you would say. I just had to ask to be sure.”

She wanted to cry. “Not fair. We were never going to be a thing.”

“You didn’t give us a try.”

“You was fun — nothing else.”

“I’m not happy with my life. I want something better.”

“I know. You always do. What chance did I have?”

He looked at her standing in the doorway of the roach infested flat. They were both war orphans. The one difference between them, he grew up in a home. She wasn’t as fortunate. That was why she didn’t carry a last name. War orphans weren’t thought of as people and didn’t deserve legacies.

Despite what she wanted to believe, he never thought of her as just a good-time. There was more to what he felt for her.

Or, was it?

Max reached and held her soft hand in his. She didn’t fight, not even when a cold sensation touched her palm. Holding the coin up to the light, her heart skipped. It was a parting gift; she didn’t want to think of it as anything else.

He left Angelita with the life she wanted.

As he walked away, a Hi-riser boy, decked out in silk and gold, entered the hallway. As the two passed each other, the rich kid sniggered behind his hand at the poor Lo-ender. Max turned to see the snob go straight to Angelita. She greeted her caller with a kiss. No words exchanged. The boy fondled her right breast with his desires foremost on his mind.

She locked eyes with Max as the Hi-riser touched her. In her hand, she fisted the coin as if to say, you’re right, this is what I am.

Max left, knowing he would never return.

Playing with the devil

Cho reclined his lower back on the support of his seat cushion and chewed on the last of the cigar. The night wasn’t developing as he had hoped. Patti, the ever nagging thorn in his side, had meddled again. If the boy couldn’t come up with the money, she would undoubtedly be there to protect him with more loopholes and technicalities. In spite of everything, she was the Charter’s architect and knew better than anyone on how to manipulate its subtext to suit her needs.

His rage fumed.

The iron gates of his foundry, Gotham Works, squealed as they opened to let his ground limousine pass through. The car stopped outside the operations building. Paco Vega tripped rushing from the cab to valet his boss’s door. Cho didn’t wait; he threw the hatch open, narrowly missing the brute’s crotch.

The gangster bounded the concrete steps and pushed apart the gold inlay doors. The brothers lagged behind, afraid to anger him more.

Faso, his top lieutenant, met him in the foyer. Unlike the dimwitted Vegas, this formidable hunter had a keen wit. Contrary to his usual shrewd demeanor, he seemed nervous. “How did it go, Boss?”

“Not well. The boy was given a reprieve,” he snarled. “Tell these morons to pack their things. Their contracts are revoked.”

Cho kept walking.

Faso planted his large mitts on the brothers. “You heard him. Get your shit and leave.”

Paz didn’t protest. Pulling Paco along with him, they tucked tails and scampered from the building.

Faso ran to catch up. “Hey, Boss, there’s someone waiting for you in your office.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t give his name.”

“Then why in hell did you let him in?”

“I — don’t think I could’ve stopped him.”

He had never seen Faso act scared before, which meant only one possibility. Smoothing over his exhausted appearance with a gloss of collected authority, he rehearsed calmness before strutting into his office.

It was as he dreaded.

“You are late,” Kroll said, perusing the various works of art situated around the extravagant yet tasteful room.

“Leave us,” Cho ordered. Once alone with the assassin, he lost his bluster. “What are you doing here?”

“I am in need of your best hunters for a special assignment.”

”You could’ve contacted me through the customary methods. By coming here, you risk exposing me.”

“Calm yourself. I had to forgo our arrangement, because time is of the essence... pardon the colloquialism”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t have you here. You must go.”

The transhuman stared through the man. The crystal dagger flared for emphasis.

The tiny articulation did the trick. Boss Cho, the lord of his fiefdom, felt dread overtake his pride. “I apologize. I forgot myself. Of course, I will give you my best men. How — how many do you want this time?”

“A contingency of three to four will do.”

“Right away. I’ll send Faso. And, the target?”

Kroll went to the ornate oak desk and placed his hand on the glass top. The surface came alive with multidimensional images. Emil Pavel’s mug-shot formed. “This man.”

Cho’s greed got the better of him and it showed in his mannerisms.

There was no need to probe the gangster’s mind to read his intended duplicity. “Remember your place. Double-cross me and you will regret it.”

“No, I would never do such a thing.”

He knew the human was lying, but understood how well fear could keep him loyal. “Yes, indeed.”

Cho opened a box on the edge of the desk and removed a fat cigar from it. As he used the cutter to snip the ends, he struggled to appear at ease. Striking the match and blazing the tobacco deceived his charade.

“Have the hunters assembled within the hour.” Kroll glided to the door.

“Should I be worried?”

The assassin didn’t stop. “No. The future is upon us. Soon you will be rewarded for your dedication.”

The Zolarian walked out.

The often mentioned
new order
was coming. Revolution meant anarchy and destruction. Neither was of importance to Cho. He only wanted to end up on the winning side once the dust settled.

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.

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.