Ares and I sit on the couch with him sitting on the opposite side of the table. His guy stands with his back to the wall like a security guard. “The rules and laws are so much looser. It’s so far away from the stiff, backward puritan society that America has become. You might get a little too used to if you stay too long.”
I’ve got drinks already set up on the table. He leans over his large belly to get to one of the drinks.
“So,” he says after taking a sip, “let’s talk turkey. Your brother says you’ve got some quality assault rifles.”
“That we do,” I say. “And he tells me you need some quality assault rifles for a little problem on your side of town.”
“Little,” he scoffs. “I’ll tell you something, Orlov. That thing you took care of all those years ago with the Durovs? That’s the wayto go. I would have done the same thing if I could have, believe me. Would have saved me the headaches I got now.”
“Never too late,” I say.
“Ah,” he waves me off. “Works differently for us Italians. We got protocols and shit. You gotta talk to a council of bosses and they all gotta find good reason for you to wipe every single one of them out. Getting something like that approved is more trouble than it’s worth.” He pauses, glancing over at his right-hand man. “So, I believe we’re talking about seven crates for ten bands each?”
“Fifteen.”
He blinks, his smile faltering. “Fifteen?”
“I’m not really a fan of doing business out of this club. See, it’s doing a little too well. Too much potential for witnesses and… others. I don’t know if you noticed, but the club is packed tonight. I’d say several dozen people could potentially place you here if something should jump off, so, call the extra five my hazard pay.”
He narrows his eyes, then his smile returns. “You Russians are shrewd sonsabitches. I’ll give you that much.” He takes a moment to silently debate it, but I know he’s not going to object. We’ve been working together for too long for that. “All right,” he says finally. “You got a deal. Extra five will be included in a separate payment. Say, one week?”
“That’s fine.”
“Good. Let’s see the merch.”
We get up and file out of the room through the back door. The alley is almost entirely deserted except for the truck sitting just afew feet from the door. Ares steps forward and opens the hatch, revealing the stacks of wooden crates. He gets a crowbar from the side and opens one of them.
Abate steps over to the case and gazes at the guns under the moonlight. He nods approvingly. “Looks good. Real good. M-4s and M-6s are hard to come by around these parts.”
Ares takes one out and hands it to his right hand. “It’s got a gas piston system,” he says, “which cuts down on the need for frequent cleanings. As your guy can see, it’s lighter than your average AR, but it packs a punch.”
His guy points the gun into the darkness to check the sight, then nods to Abate. Abate says, “Good deal. Get the money.”
His guy puts the gun back in the crate and steps away, pulling his phone out of his pocket and stepping away. I hear him tell someone, “Bring the car around…”
“I gotta tell you,” Abate says. “It’s always nice doing business with professionals. Lately, I’ve been having problems with these new guys that just popped up on the South side. Youngsters that just sprung up with a booster racket…”
Headlights on the other end of the alley get our attention. The car comes cruising toward us slowly, then stops a few feet away. The car doors open and two of Abate’s men get out, one of them with a suitcase. He stands before me and opens it, showing me the money. Then he and Ares set it on the hood of the car for Ares to count it.
“You know, when your predecessor was still around,” Abate says, pulling a cigar out of his pocket. He sticks it in the side of his mouth, then pulls out a lighter. “He used to hate actually coming to these things.”
“I am aware,” I say casually, though the air suddenly feels thicker and heavy around my head. If we were in the woods, the birds would have stopped singing. It feels like danger all of a sudden.
“That’s right,” he says with a bigger smile. “You and your brother used to be the ones?—”
His words are cut off by the sound of a rifle cock. Then somewhere in the darkness behind the car someone shouts, “Hands in the air!”
Shit.Everyone freezes for a half second. Ares slowly stands up straight, but I’m watching his hands. They’re going down to their sides.
Out of the darkness, they walk around Abate’s car and into the headlights, their guns drawn. In full tactical gear withFBIpainted in yellow on their chests, they start to surround us. We’ve maybe got a second or two to react.
Ares grabs the gun of the closest guy and pushes it up. It goes off as he punches him in the face, knocking him back. It’s on.
I go for the closest guy to me and knock his gun to one side as I reach for my sidearm. I slap him across the face with it. He falls backward, blood flying from his mouth. I shoot him in the head before he can even gain his footing again.
The firefight starts after that. Abate’s men do their best against them, but all but Abate’s right hand are shot down in quick succession. Ares rushes past me with the suitcase in hand. “Let’s go!” he shouts as he shuts the trunk door.
We get into the car as the bullets start flying. I’ve got no idea where Abate or his right hand got to. All I know is that we’ve got to get the fuck out of here.
