I stiffened, fighting not to turn and stare at Black.
These people knew what he was? How was that possible?
I must have misheard. I had to have misheard... or misunderstood what I heard, maybe.
“His kind?” the American said, puffing on his cigar as he looked between the Englishman and Black. “What ‘kind’ would that be exactly? What are you again, Bouros? Greek? Lithuanian? I never can remember.”
I saw Black turn deliberately, giving the Englishman a harder stare. I couldn’t interpret the exact meaning of that stare, but I definitely got the sense he didn’t appreciate the Englishman’s comment much. The look there wasn’t surprise exactly, but more an acknowledgment of whatever subtext the Englishman had been aiming at him.
Black definitely seemed to read more than one meaning in the other’s words.
I was still looking between faces, feeling like a prop of some longer-running movie, when another white-uniformed waiter appeared out of a door behind us, holding a tray covered in glasses. He walked silently up to our table and placed one in front of me and another in front of Black––both rocks’ glasses splashed with an amber-colored liquid.
Just as silently, he put a martini glass down in front of the Indian man and another in front of the Englishman. He placed a beer in front of “Frank” and what might have been a soda in front of the one with the boyish smile. Then he replaced the ashtray with a fresh one, collected all of the used glasses, and disappeared back through the door in the wall behind us.
“So?” Black said, leaning an arm on the table at the door’s click. “You have something for me? Or are you just going to sit here and annoy me with your dick envy?”
The other three men looked at Frank, who looked at the Englishman.
The Englishman cleared his throat, tapping his cigar against the ashtray once more, even though little ash had accumulated since the last time he’d done it.
“Yes,” he said, clearing his throat again. “I’m afraid your request has been denied, Bouros.”
“Denied?” Black glanced around at all of them, giving the Englishman a particularly hard stare. “Why the fuck was it denied? By who?”
“That merchandise is...” The Englishman hesitated, his gray eyes pausing on me. “...Perhaps the details should wait for another time?”
“It’s fine,” Black said, dismissive. “You can talk in front of her.”
The Englishman glanced at Frank, an eyebrow cocked.
“Perhaps we don’t agree?” Frank said, before the Englishman could speak.
“Then you’re an idiot,” Black said. I flinched as he said it, even as it occurred to me again that he was deliberately disarming them by acting like a jackass. “Maybe you weren’t hearing me before. This one’s mine until she’s not anyone’s. So you can trust her, or else you can’t trust me.”
I kept my face carefully blank at that too, not sure I wanted to know what he meant.
“What if that question has arisen as well?” Frank said, his eyes still fixed on Black.
Black turned, staring back at him with his gold, flecked eyes. Then he looked back at the Englishman, his expression hard.
“Does it really matter what you think... Frank?” he said in a silky-soft voice, that European accent still audible. “Since Anders is here, and I never approached him about this, and he’s the one who just told me that my request is ‘denied,’ I’m thinking he’s the only one here I’m really talking to right now... am I right?”
Dead silence fell at his words.
At Frank’s murderous look, Black turned, focusing directly on the Englishman.
“And really, you’re just a stooge too... aren’t you, Anders?” Black leveled that predatory stare on him. “If you’re here, I’ve got to assume Mr. Lucky is involved. And if Mr. Lucky is involved, then really, all that matters is what Mr. Lucky thinks. Not what you think. Not what I think.” He motioned around the table at the other three. “...Certainly not what any of these morons think. And since I’m pretty sure I have things to offer him that you don’t... things worth a hell of a lot more than one missing kid... why don’t you just cut to the chase and just tell me what the fuck he wants from me?”
I felt my hands tighten into fists on my lap.
Black’s fingers closed over mine under the table, squeezing gently. I wasn’t sure if I should take it as reassurance or a warning. Either way, I smoothed my expression before I gripped his fingers with my own.
I pretended to look out over the view of the snaking, sunlight-kissed river below the hotel, keeping my expression as blank as possible. I wanted to look stupid––disinterested at least. Luckily, the view was stunning enough to genuinely hold some part of my attention. Giant barges ran down the river as I watched, sliding between high-rise hotels on either side and chased by small, ornate shuttle boats shaped like traditional Thai vessels. Other boats and ferries jetted along faster, darting among the bigger, commercial vessels like colorful fish.
My mind worked rapidly as I gazed over all of it, chewing through everything I’d heard.
Black told me once that another seer like him operated out of Russia.
He’d called him “Mr. Lucky.”
I’d thought it was a joke at the time... an obviously fake name at the very least.
Whoever that individual was, Black claimed he had access to “real” resources.
By that, he presumably meant resources that went beyond the ridiculous amounts of wealth Black accumulated for himself over the years. Manpower, money, connections to politics and industry––I don’t know what Black was alluding to exactly, but he’d seemed nervous of the other seer, if not out-and-out afraid of him. He told me “Mr. Lucky” was driven more by ideology than by material wealth or even power in the conventional sense.
Anti-human ideology, unless I’d misunderstood him.
Which was pretty much how Ian sounded, while he’d been attempting to choke the life out of me. Ian said something about being part of a larger “movement” as well, what sounded like a cult or a religion of some kind, with racial purity at its core. He’d mentioned having a boss, too... a boss who didn’t want me dead for some reason.
Of course, Ian decided to disobey that boss by killing me anyway.
Black’s gold eyes returned to the Englishman.
“Well?” he said, his voice dangerously soft. “Does Mr. Lucky have a proposal for me? Or is this merely a punishment of some kind? A way to slap my wrists and tell me I’ve been a very very naughty boy...?”
“A punishment?” The Englishman looked amused. “Quite the contrary. Mr. Lucky is looking to establish a more, ah... mutually-accommodating... relationship with you.” He paused deliberately. “...Mr. Bouros.”
The way he said the name made it clear he was aware it was fake.
The Englishman smiled, still studying Black’s face as he set down his cigar in the ashtray, clasping his fingers on the surface of the table as he leaned closer.
“...He thought he would take this opportunity to have a little talk with you about that. While he had reason and means by which to hold your undivided attention.”
The Englishman leveled his stare at me, his gaze sharp enough to make me wonder if he knew I wasn’t who Black pretended, either.
His eyes returned to Black before I finished the thought.
“I suggest you take a few days to think about the offer, Mr. Bouros,” he said politely, leaning back in his chair and giving me another penetrating stare. “In the meantime, I’m afraid that the specific merchandise that interests you is simply not available. We might be able to change that for you, of course, if you could find it in your heart to pursue a significantly more friendly relationship with Mr. Lucky in the future. In Asia and elsewhere.”
Black stiffened against me.
I felt another plume of... something... off him.
“You couldn’t have told me that on the fucking phone?” he said, glancing around at the other three seated at the table. “Wh
y do this here?”
I again got the sense that only the Englishman and Black really knew what they were talking about. In fact, the Englishman seemed to be taunting Black with that very fact, as well as subtly threatening to expose him to the other three. I could also tell that the American, “Frank,” didn’t like how much he’d been cut out of the conversation already.
If the Englishman noticed, he didn’t seem to care.
“I was told to convey this message in person,” he said, clearing his throat as he folded his hands on his chest.
“Why?” Black said.
“It’s really not relevant to your request,” he said, shrugging with indifference in his eyes. “Suffice it to say, if you’re... particular. About the identity of your requested acquisition... then you’ll have to wait for a second meeting with our sponsor.”
“Your boss, you mean,” Black said coldly.
“If you prefer,” the Englishman said, undaunted. “We all have masters, Mr. Bouros. You should understand that better than just about anyone... from what I’ve been told.”
I felt another cloud of anger off Black at that, but he didn’t respond to the comment specifically.
“How long?” he said, still looking only at the Englishman. “When will this second meeting take place?”
“It was suggested one week from today.”
“Why so fucking long?” Black growled.
“Two weeks then,” the Englishman said, his voice holding more steel.
Black’s fingers tightened over mine, but that time, he didn’t speak.
When the silence stretched, the Englishman smiled, his gray eyes cold as he glanced at me, smiling wider before he returned his gaze to Black.
“I am glad to see that you are a fast learner, Mr. Bouros. It bodes well for you and your friends... and I sincerely apologize if the conditions seem overly harsh to you. Mr. Lucky would very much like this situation to impress upon you, Mr. Bouros,” he explained gravely. “He would like it to impress upon you very deeply. In the meantime, while you await the return of your cherished merchandise, I would strongly advise you to enjoy your time in Thailand...”
The Englishman glanced at me, but not long enough for me to get a read on his expression.
He added, “I would also advise you, I hope entirely unnecessarily, to take a great deal of care in terms of any, well... extra-curricular activities you may otherwise have planned. In the interests of maintaining goodwill between you and our host, you understand. This is quite crucial. Really, establishing trust at the beginning of any new relationship is such a delicate and potentially breakable thing. Do you not agree?”
I fought with a harder knot forming in my chest.
I didn’t understand a lot of what they were talking about.
But I understood enough.
From the puzzled looks between the East Indian and the American, I could tell I wasn’t the only one trying to read meaning through the gaps.
“What is the purpose of this acquisition anyway, Bouros?” Frank asked, when the Englishman fell silent. “Is he a bastard child of yours or something?” Chuckling, the American grinned at me, glancing at the Indian man with a knowing smile. “Why so attached to this one, when there are so many like it in the world?”
When I turned, I found his watery blue eyes once more focused on my chest.
“...After all, you’ve made a point of parading your... friend... in front of us. Usually the intended uses for this type of merchandise are more straightforward.” He gave Black another reptilian smile. “Or does she like to watch? Is that it, Bouros?”
Black leveled a harder look at him. “It’s for a client.”
“A client?” Frank said. He glanced at the Englishman, as if figuring out for the first time that he might not have all the information on Black himself. “What kind of client? I thought you weren’t in that kind of import-export business.”
“He’s not,” the Englishman said.
Black looked back at the Englishman, ignoring Frank’s puzzled look.
“Is he hurt?” Black said, his voice lower. “Has he been damaged in any way?”
“Not so far.” The Englishman smiled wanly, his gray eyes measuring Black’s. “You know how easily accidents can happen in this part of the world though, Mr. Bouros. How... unexpected they can be. I would not test our mutual friend’s resolve in this. He is quite adamant that you reach an agreement at the end of these two weeks, whatever the cost. In his words expressed to me, ‘enough is enough,’ as it were.”
Black fell silent. That time, I had to restrain the urge to touch him.
Whatever feeling expanded off him in those few seconds was gone by the time he leaned back in his chair, resting his weight deliberately against me.
“That is... unfortunate,” Black said. “My client will be displeased.”
The Englishman held up his hands, and that time, a flicker of distaste crossed his expression.
“It is unfortunate,” he agreed. “No one likes it when such things become necessary. But perhaps you should tell your client to do some soul-searching on this matter as well. Maybe he could retrace his steps. See if there’s something he might have done differently to prevent this terrible thing from happening.”
Black looked up at that, narrowing his gaze. He didn’t answer.
“Two weeks, Mr. Bouros. We will contact you.”
Frank let out a grunt, as if unable to restrain himself from inserting himself any longer. “In the meantime, might I suggest Phnom Penh, Mr. Bouros? You could also make a quick trip to Macau. Or Dubai. They have little boys in all those places.”
Frank held his hands out, giving me a harder smile when I turned.
I got the sense he could tell this whole conversation was making me sick and enjoyed watching my disgust. He also still seemed angry at Black’s “moron” comment before, and probably the crack about him liking little kids as well. More than anything, however, I got the sense that Frank absolutely hated the fact that he had no power here.
“There are other places,” Frank sneered to Black, even as I thought it. “...as a man of your tastes is surely aware. The Americas is becoming increasingly friendly to local variants of this service, as well. Perhaps you could take a trip there, Bouros, after you’ve grown tired of your pretty friend here?”
I gritted my teeth, but only a little, still trying to keep the disgust off my face.
Again, Black’s fingers closed over mine in my lap.
He didn’t look at me though, but leaned against me in the chair, gazing around at the four men who sat around us at the table.
“Well,” he said then.
Without warning, he rose smoothly to his feet. He did it so fast and let go of me so quickly I had to restrain myself from reaching for him.
“...I suppose there’s nothing more for us to talk about then,” he said.
“I suppose there is not,” the Englishman said. He looked up at Black, a clear warning in his eyes. “Despite Frank’s teasing, don’t try to leave town, Mr. Bouros. It would not be advisable. Not if you wish to receive your merchandise in its current pristine form.”
Black didn’t answer, but his fingers closed around mine. He stepped slightly in front of me, and again I got the clear impression of being shielded.
“I’ll be here,” he said, his voice equally cold.
“Excellent,” the Englishman said, smiling. “I look forward to it.” He gave me a very deliberate look then, his gray eyes holding a denser meaning as he looked around Black’s body to meet my gaze. “It was so very lovely to meet you finally, Miriam...”
I flinched as Black’s fingers crushed mine.
“...I’ve heard so many fascinating things about you, my dear. Your beauty, however, was very sorely underreported, I must say.”
Black stood there, breathing harder, staring down at the Englishman.
That time, the intense plume of emotion that came off him alarmed me.
Impulsively, I caught hold of his a
rm, doing it without thinking even as I stepped up in front of him, smiling around at the table.
“He’s just tired,” I told them, my voice light as I smiled around at the other three men, avoiding the Englishman’s stare. “The client he mentioned is rather difficult to please, I’m afraid. He knows he’ll hear the worst of this tonight, and no one likes to be the deliverer of bad news, as I’m sure you all know...”
I saw the faces of the American and the East Indian grow slightly less tense.
I chanced a glance at the Englishman when I felt him staring at me again. He wore an openly curious look now as he looked me over. I had no idea why he was playing this particular game with Black, but I could feel the taunt there. I had to assume that Black’s real identity being exposed to the other three posed some danger to Black as well, or the Englishman wouldn’t bother toying with the knowledge in front of them.
I brightened my smile still more, tugging on Black’s arm as I stepped back.
“And now if you boys will excuse us,” I said, still smiling. “This one promised me a night on the town, and I don’t have a thing to wear.”
That time, when I glanced at Frank, he smiled at me indulgently. That more lecherous look had returned to his eyes, right before they drifted down to my legs.
“I think you look just fine, ma’am,” he said, glancing up at my chest for a long beat before meeting my gaze. “Better than fine, if you’ll permit me.”
I waved him off, pretending embarrassment, even as I tugged at Black’s arm to get him away from the table.
“We still have business of our own to discuss, Bouros,” Frank added, his voice holding a warning again. “Even beyond this bullshit you’ve got going with the kid.”
Black slung an arm around my shoulder, staring pointedly down at my chest himself before he grinned at the others and gave them a knowing wink.
“Well, complain to Anders for monopolizing me,” he said. “That’ll have to wait for another time. Since it looks like I’m stuck in this piss-hole for two more weeks at Lucky’s pleasure, you know where to find me, boys.” He spoke almost cheerfully, that denser threat gone from his voice. “For now I’ve got to keep the missus happy. You know how it is...”
Black As Night: A Quentin Black Paranormal Mystery (Quentin Black Mystery Book 2) Page 8
