Chapter Two
In which we meet the tall and forbidding Mob Boss Alastair Taylor. A man who can do business anywhere. Including a slave auction.
Alastair…
There’s a stink in places like this.
It doesn’t matter how high-end the venue is, how elaborate the decor, how expensive the drinks. It’s the stench of despair, mixed with acute terror and a haze of testosterone and alcohol.
Tonight, I’m walking into a meat processing plant, flanked by giant, filthy warehouses on either side. The entire area is industrial, so the streets are relatively deserted this late at night. I look down in distaste at the mud soiling my Prada loafers as I enter.
You either know what this place is and how to get in, or you’ll never be aware of its existence. There’s an elevated space being used as a stage, well-lit, with meat hooks swinging in the back, adding macabre decor.
The scum that put on this auction went to some trouble to create an area that looks like a gentleman’s club, with rows of comfortable leather chairs and side tables with lamps that create little pools of light. There are oriental rugs laid over the concrete floor and even a substantial bar placed opposite the stage.
But the slavering hounds that come to this place are in no way gentlemen.
Behind the stage, there are two cold doors- long strips of thick plastic covering a doorway that holds most of the chill in the freezer where the slabs of meat are stored. Tonight, something else is stored there, a different kind of meat.
I can do business anywhere. I prefer one of my offices in Glasgow, London, or New York, but this meeting with US Senator Martin Beagly is long overdue. He owes me a weapons contract and I’m not inclined to let it slide. This weaselly prick was expected to push this through his committee last week and he’s been dodging my calls. Just the fact that he’s in this shitehole is more blackmail material.
It’s always useful to have a little something extra when you’re putting the screws to a stubborn bastard.
“Hello,Marty,”I say, settling into a leather club chair across from him. The color drains from the senator’s face, leaving him sheet-white. He’s short and thin, his jowls drooping like a bulldog’s.
“How- what are you doing here?” Martin gives a weak chuckle, draining half his glass. “I didn’t know your tastes ran in this direction, Alastair.” He winks at me, an optimistic “We’re all here for the same thing,” implication that makes me want to flatten his face with my fists.
“They don’t,” I say coldly, “so we’ll move this along so you can return to your evening.”
“Are you sure?” He’s still trying to pretend that I, too, might be a dickless piece of shite who enjoys buying terrified girls to rape. “Setting the auction in a meat processing plant? It’s genius.”
“Your personal tastes are no concern of mine,” I cut him off, “I’m more interested in your political skills,” I say this part a bit louder and watch him glance around anxiously.
“Heh,” he gurgles nervously, “not so loud, eh?”
“Not to worry,” I settle in my chair, smiling pleasantly as I accept a glass of vodka from the topless waitress, who leans forward to make sure her tits nearly brush my face.
Times like these make me miss the old days, when I was building my empire and could just shoot anyone who crossed me. But this spoiled, petulant prick has to be handled carefully.
The girl hovers like she’s waiting for me to push my face between her breasts. Giving her a look that makes her back up a couple of steps, I say, “That will be all.”
When Beagly - the horny old bastard - grabs her arse on her way back to the bar, she doesn’t even blink.
“I’m certain the reason we haven’t spoken is due to your tireless efforts to get this defense contract put through the right channels,” I still sound pleasant as I eye him over my glass. He’s getting some color back in his face, along with his customary bluster.
“You have to understand, this is a very complicated process, and-”
“I’m well aware of what it takes to put a contract like this before the committee,” I interrupt him again, because I don’t want to spend another second longer here than I have to, and because the pompous fool hates being interrupted. His senatorial arse has been kissed for so long that it must be jarring to meet someone who won’t. “And I also know we have jumped through every hoop and met every requirement. So, imagine my surprise when I discover the contract has not yet been signed by thecommittee members, as per your ardent assurance that it would be done.”
“Look, Alastair, I know it’s easy to become impatient but-”
“Let me be clear.” I lean forward, into his space, enjoying watching him cringe back. “I’ve been happy to subsidize the lifestyle you cannot enjoy on a US Senator’s salary. But with the carrot, there’s also the stick. Purchasing girls for your particular brand of fun won’t look good for your re-election. You will get this contract approved within the next two weeks or you will learn what the stick feels like.”
“Are you threatening me?” he blusters.
“Not at all, Marty,” I smile reassuringly. He doesn’t seem to take it that way, because he’s sweating profusely. “I think you’re a smart man who will do the right thing. For me. For your career.”
He’s clearly terrified, but his gaze still creeps from me to the stage, too eager for the evening’s event to start. His lack of self-control would be lamentable, aside from the fact that I’ve often catered to that character flaw to get him under my thumb. And he’s going to stay there until I crush him.
