1929 Book 4 - Drifter

by ML Gardner

  “I didn’t.” Sloan tossed a rib bone on the platter and began to wipe his hands. “Captain did. She was visiting me when the guys got back from New York. Captain walked in and says, ‘Okay, Sloan, your mistress checks out. Says you were at her place for two days straight. I guess that clears you.’

  Then he looks up and pretends to see Maggie. He says he didn’t know she was there but that’s a lie. He’s a real religious family man. He did it to teach me a lesson.” He dropped his eyes and reached for his cigarettes.

  “I’ll never forget the look on Maggie’s face. It was as if I’d shot her. She just got up slowly, put her head down and left.”

  “How did you get it straight with her? Or did you?”

  “I did. It wasn’t easy, but I did.”

  Aryl scooped noodle salad onto his plate. “I’m waiting.”

  “Nope. Your turn. I want to hear more about this ten times justice those people believed in.”

  “It’s pretty horrible.”

  “Actually, I think if the world worked like that, people might think twice before committing a crime.”

  Aryl leveled his head. “And I think if you knew the repercussions of that kind of justice, you’d think twice before admiring it.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Complications

  “John, run get Kinsey, would you?”

  Mickey seemed irritated and distracted after receiving a letter earlier that evening. I had become accustomed to sitting in the corner of his office every night for the last week, waiting to be needed. I sat in a comfortable chair and read books. Or appeared to be reading them. Mostly I listened as Mickey conducted business. I quickly learned who the movers and shakers were. Who to avoid and who to befriend. As if friends existed in a place like this.

  I stood up and straightened my starched white shirt. Noticing a spot on my shoe, I leaned to wipe it. They weren’t as shiny as I liked, but that could wait. I straightened the band on my trousers, adjusting them back into place, high on my waist.

  “Now, John. It’s urgent.” Mickey struggled for patience. He sat bouncing one leg, wiping his face repeatedly with one hand, tapping the fingers of the other on his desk.

  I picked up my pace. I found Kinsey in the card room and kept a safe distance from him on the walk back to Mickey’s office.

  “Here he is, boss.” Habits can form quickly and this was one of the more benign ones. The first day Mickey had called me to sit in his office to be his personal little gopher, I had called him ‘boss’. Mickey seemed to like it, so I kept it up. I resumed my position in the corner, putting my feet up on an ottoman and raised my book.

  “We got a problem,” Mickey said. “You know the guy that got ten times for roughing up Birdy? Yurik’s man?”

  Kinsey nodded, folding his arms tightly over his chest. “He not learn his lesson?”

  “Worse. He died.”

  I watched them over the top of my book, not needing it explained to me why this was such a bad thing.

  “Yurik sent the message this morning.”

  “What’s he want?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “What does he want by way of compensation?”

  Mickey laughed and it sounded low and sick. “Everything.”

  “We can’t just send over a guy?”

  He stopped, contemplating while chewing on his scarred lip. “I doubt he’ll take it. And even if he did, who would we send? Who should die? That’s not an easy choice, Kinsey.”

  My blood ran cold and I struggled to look as if I were absorbed in the words in front of me. Following the conversation, I had thought they meant to send someone over to work for Yurik. I realized Kinsey meant sending someone over to sacrifice to Yurik.

  “What’s he demanding for now?”

  “My inventory. He’s trying to put me out of business and I’ll be damned if he’s gonna do it.”

  “He’s been trying to get control of this area for a long time, Mickey.”

  “Well, he’s not going to get it.” Mickey slammed his fist on his desk and reached for a decanter.

  “You want me to end it?” Kinsey offered darkly.

  “You’d never get through. He has layers of protection.”

  “You could give him your string of girls. They don’t make you that much money anyway.”

  “He has plenty of girls. He knows where the money is and that’s why he’s demanding my inventory.”

  “And if you say no?”

  “It means war.”

  “Well, we can’t have that,” Kinsey said with a smile. “We’ll have to give him someone.”

  My heart was beating in my ears, slamming so hard I could barely hear. My stomach roiled and it had nothing to do with the medicine. It was disgusting how these men sat here and discussed who to sacrifice and how, as if they weren’t people at all, but merchandise or meaningless objects. And I knew I was one of them.

  “Well, we gotta figure something out. Because I ain’t gonna give up my empire. To hell with him.”

  “Perhaps…” Kinsey narrowed his eyes with deep thought. “We could take advantage of their weaknesses. I know some things about Yurik and Dmitri.”

  “Explain.”

  Kinsey sat down and crossed his legs, a psychotic madman trying to pass off a gentlemanly look. He whispered his plan just low enough for me to miss anything of importance.

  Mickey nodded constantly, a few times more deeply than others and a slow smile crept across his face. He sat back, relaxing into his chair.

  “And that is why I keep you around, Kinsey.” He was still smiling when he called me over. “John, come here. You might can help with this.”

  ***

  Two nights later Gina paced my room as I dressed. Mickey had bought me a new suit for the occasion. Handed it to me with a solemn look and told me that his entire empire depended on my success tonight. He finished with a fatherly pat on the face before sending me to get dressed.

  “You shouldn’t be the one to go. I’m a better negotiator.”

  “Mickey wants me to go.”

  “It’s a bad idea,” Gina warned. “And it doesn’t make sense. You know nothing about the operation, John.”

  “I know what to say. I’ve rehearsed it with Mickey for the last three hours.”

  “Is he sending anyone with you? Or is he sending you to the wolves alone.”

  “They aren’t wolves, they’re Russians. And Trent will be watching me.”

  “Trent? Well, isn’t that poetic irony!”

  I turned to her, my shirt unbuttoned, my hair still wet from my bath. “Are you worried about me? Or are you mad because you’re not the one going?”

  “Both. You have to realize that in some way, you are a sacrifice. If anything goes wrong and they take you, Mickey won’t miss a wink of sleep. And since you honestly know nothing, they’ll torture you until you’re dead. I’ve seen the Russians work, John.” She swiped her bag from my bed and shot me a baleful glance. “You better hope nothing goes wrong.”

  ***

  I waited under the streetlamp. The narrow side road was deserted. Being this close to the King George dock made me think of Deek. I had no time for remorse. Instead I concentrated on the techniques to control the physical appearance of cravings. They were useful in masking the appearance of being on the verge of wetting oneself from fear. Whatever I was in a past life, I was certain I wasn’t a criminal.

  I heard someone clear his throat and turned slowly. No sudden moves. No need to make anyone anymore antsy than they already were. As practiced with Mickey, I took a sweeping glance of the street as I turned, paying attention to rooftops and parked cars. I was sure Dmitri had protection nearby. So long as they were out of earshot. Trent stayed just on the edge of a dark alley less than a half a block up, loaded gun at his side.

  “I’m here. What have you to say?” Dmitri asked, bending his head to light a cigarette. Yurik’s right hand man and most trusted advisor towered over me. His hard Russian accent rang out wi
th authority. This was potential suicide.

  “A proposition from Mickey.”

  He tilted his head in anticipation.

  “Word has it you might be tired of not being your own man. Mickey might be able to help you with that.”

  “I won’t work for him.”

  “No. Mickey doesn’t want you to work for him. What he wants to do is offer you a chance to work for yourself.”

  “How is this possible. I am loyal to Yurik.”

  “How loyal?” I asked with a leading tone. “Because we’ve heard you’ve gotten very frustrated with Yurik lately. And I have to admit,” I said, raising my hands as I repeated my rehearsed lines. “I think you could do a better job.”

  “What are you suggesting?” Dmitri asked, his eyes narrowing. “Overthrow him?”

  “Mickey wants you to know it’s an option he can help you with.”

  “Why would Mickey help me?” he asked.

  “You know what Yurik is demanding. Mickey doesn’t want to lose everything he has. If he were to arrange to eliminate Yurik, thereby raising your status, he would ask the courtesy of negating his debt.” I lowered my hands slowly. “It’s as simple as that.”

  “Who would do it?” Dmitri asked.

  “You would. It’s the only way the others will accept your authority. You demand it in front of as many of them as possible. Mickey will arrange the meeting. Yurik will think it’s to deliver inventory. You will step behind him and do what you have to do. Then you will step in front of him and run a better, more efficient organization.”

  Dmitri’s eyes flickered over my shoulder. The hair on the back of my neck went up and I clenched my fists, ready to fight.

  With a gruff laugh, Dmitri smiled. “I just wanted you to see what it was like.”

  “See what was like?”

  “To think, even for a split second, that you were going to die. Have you never felt that?” I couldn’t help the fine sweat that broke out across my forehead.

  “Yes, I have.”

  Dmitri regarded me with scrutiny, seeming to doubt my words.

  “It is a deal.” He stuck out his large paw of a hand. Another’s demise sealed with a handshake. “I will tell Yurik that Mickey will meet him here, two nights from now. And that he will bring what is owed to him. Both sides will bring as many witnesses as possible.”

  “One more thing,” I said before letting go of Dmitri’s hand. “Mickey wants a truce. Lifelong. Whatever happens in the future is settled over cards and a drink. He wants to avoid anything like this ever happening again.”

  “Well, that would be in my best interest, now wouldn’t it?” Dimitri laughed as he stubbed out his cigarette and walked into the shadows.

  ***

  Mickey was pacing when I came back. The large men at the door moved for me as they moved for Gina. I had to admit, I liked the respect.

  I sat down with a hard thump and shook a cigarette out while Mickey poured me a drink.

  As I reached for it, I looked up, eyes narrowed in the smoke swirling around my head. “It’s set.”

  Mickey struggled to contain his joy. “Give me the details.”

  “We’re meeting him two nights from now. We’re bringing everyone we can. Dmitri will do it and take claim to Yurik’s business and everyone in it.”

  “And my debt?” Mickey asked anxiously.

  I blew out a large billow of smoke.

  “Forgiven.”

  Mickey smiled, rocking his clasped hands in gratitude. “You did good, Johnny boy. So good.” I thought he might hug me, had we been standing.

  “Anything you need, you come to me and you got it, you hear? Mickey don’t forget when a man’s done right by him. Loyalty is everything in a world like ours.”

  I settled in the chair as I tilted the glass up, drained it and held it out for more. I realized that Mickey had no way of knowing what had really transpired. I could have arranged the exact same events to conspire against Mickey and the bastard would have never seen it coming.

  I thought of Dmitri going back to tell Yurik all was well, knowing he would kill him in two days time. How quickly loyalty would lend to lies, in a world like theirs.

  ***

  That night, after a hearty dose and a secret roll with Gina, I lay staring at the ceiling, smoking again. I thought about what I had done that night and again about who I really was. It was only recently those thoughts had consumed me. But tonight I realized I was morphing into someone even I didn’t recognize. Helpless to stop it, perhaps it was best to let lost men stay lost.

  In a swirling haze of opium and alcohol I realized that if a man is held under water he will slowly drown, unless he makes the willful decision to live and reverts back to the womb; the primal. He begins to breathe the foreign air, move about in the alien surroundings. Finally he begins to swim. And before long, he’s slinking through the water.

  A shark.

  Which is exactly what I’d become.

  ***

  The night of the execution I stood at the sink breathing heavily through my nose. I took my white shirt and slowly pushed it under the water. Ribbons of red began seeping from the fabric and I watched the tendrils swirl out, longer and wider until all the water was pink.

  The night had gone exactly how we’d planned. It was faster and less violent than ten times. And still, I felt sick.

  We’d gathered in the early hours of the morning when most business was conducted. Mickey and Yurik met, a troop of men behind each of them. I helped carry a crate that held no inventory and stood to Mickey’s left. Dmitri stood on Yurik’s right. After a moment of small talk, Dmitri took a step back. I tried to look away. The jerky movement caught Yurik’s eye and he moved his head, just as Dmitri fired. And in that split second, he saw it coming.

  A dozen guns were drawn on both sides as Dmitri raised his hands and announced that he was taking charge. Everyone looked nervous. No one objected.

  And that’s how organizations changed hands, in their world.

  At such close range it was impossible not to bring home evidence. While everyone else was in the other room celebrating, getting drunk while the old upright piano banged and clanged happiness from the corner, I stood in the loo trying to wash out the splatter.

  I was heading to my room and saw Gina waiting for me outside. She had a fair amount of drink on and held a sloppy grin. I tried to sidestep her.

  “I’m going to sleep.”

  “Aren’t you going to come celebrate wi’ us?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” she asked, still refusing to move.

  “There’s nothing to celebrate, Gina.”

  “What do you mean there’s nothing to celebrate! There’s everything to celebrate.”

  “A man died tonight. Where the hell is the cause to celebrate that?”

  “We’re not celebrating his death, John,” she said, sobering quickly.

  “We’re celebrating the fact that we’re safe now. Mickey can continue ‘is business and we can continue our life. With Dmitri there’s a life long truce and there’s not likely going to be any trouble for awhile. It’s a chance for us all to relax, John.”

  I tried to reach around her and still she didn’t budge.

  “Mickey’s going to want to see you there. Just for a little bit. Just have a drink and smile and pretend you’re happy. He’s happy, John, and let me tell you that doesn’t happen a lot.” She gripped the open flaps of my wet shirt, pleading.

  “He’s so pleased wi’ you, John. You were instrumental in making this happen. In saving his operation. He wants to toast you. Let ‘im.”

  ***

  The loud music and bellowing laughter hurt my head. I was late for a dose but had learned to function for up to an hour after the cravings hit hard. I sat at the makeshift bar and nodded to the little man, Digby. Once orphaned and taken in by Mickey, he always had a small, skittish look about him. But tonight he seemed downright disturbed.

  “Hey, John.”


  I nodded back. He took a long drag from his cigarette and glanced over at me, seemingly trying to decide if I was open to conversation.

  “You okay?” he asked me.

  “Yeah, fine. I have a headache.”

  “I ain’t never seen anythin’ like that,” he said quietly. “Course, I always stay at the warehouse ‘cept for deliveries, you know? I didn’t know that’s how it happened. How the bosses changed.” He took another nervous drag and managed a weak smile.

  I imagined it was only one of many ways someone could be dethroned, but still I said, “Me, either, Digby.”

  “Disturbin’, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know,” I said and slugged my whiskey.

  “Mickey’s like a father to me. I ain’t never really had one, see. Died when I was little. It ain’t so much that I’m busted up over Yurik. I know it’s for the best. Gina explained that to me. But I worry sometimes about Mickey.”

  My eyes floated over to him with question.

  “Well, you know, if it can happen to Yurik, it can happen to Mickey. Technically.” He looked like a child worried his dog would run away.

  “Mickey’ll be fine, Digby.”

  “You think that one incident is what changed you? Pushed you over the edge?” Sloan asked.

  “No. But it was the first time I wasn’t scared. Not after I got back to the warehouse anyway. I was scared waiting for Dmitri. But as soon as I got back it felt like…home.” He looked as if he hated to use that word in reference to the warehouse.

  “Only because you didn’t know any better, Aryl.”

  His eyes floated around and he shrugged, unsure.

  “When was the first time you actually met Mickey?”

  “After Deek introduced me to Gina. She took me back to the warehouse. Well,” he self corrected with a smile. “First she tried to kick my ass. Then she took me back.”

  “Why?”

  “I have no idea. She felt sorry for me? She thought they could use me? Who knows.”

  “No, why did she try to kick your ass?”