“How is your hand?”
“It hurts. I couldn't sleep. Did I keep you up?”
“No.”
“Lie.” Toby kissed his head and came to the other side of the sofa to sit down. “Do you think Rodrigo really burned his throat shut? Would that even work?”
Miko had never given it much thought. He accepted Hector's words as truth, but now that Toby brought it up he had his doubts. He took Toby's hand, carefully unwrapping it to look at the wound. All he saw was blood. “Guns do get hot. If the wound was not very deep, perhaps. I have seen the scar and it is ugly, but not so bad as Hector said.”
“You were an impressionable little boy.” Toby laughed. “You're still an impressionable little boy.”
That made Miko laugh too. “This is true.”
Toby curled his fingers around Miko's. “When are you leaving?”
“I told Simon few days. He said okay, so I think this is maybe a short job.”
“I won't forget the date again. I promise.”
“And I will not scare you again. Promise.”
Nasir was already at Simon's when Miko got there. Miko started to reach for Nasir's envelope, but Simon stopped him. “I need you both this time. Sorry.” He gave Miko his own envelope: photo of a smiling young man, cash and a flyer. “It's an art exhibition. That's where you'll shoot him. The timing is important on this one. The client has a witness scheduled to be there. Be there precisely at three o'clock on Sunday when it ends. All right?”
Miko glanced at Nasir and nodded. He could only imagine what Nasir's job was about if Miko got the one where timing was important.
They exchanged pleasantries with Simon while Nasir finished his tea, then they left together. “Where are you headed?” Nasir asked.
“Paris.”
“Hmm.” Nasir smiled. “I am going home.”
“Home? Liberia home?”
“Yes. To look for someone who may be hiding out there. And lose him again if I find him.”
Miko ate an entire handful of candy. Nasir shouldn't be working at all, much less going back to that place. Miko understood why Simon would assign it to him, but he didn't understand how he could do it to him. “How long has it been?”
“A very long time. I doubt I will recognize it.”
“You want me to come when I finish my job?”
“No. But call me when it is done. If you can. Cell phone reception may not be very good.”
Miko nodded and they parted ways at the tube station. He didn't bother sending Toby a postcard since he'd already mailed several from London and the novelty must've been wearing off by then. Plus it was just another needless reminder that they were apart. He'd send Toby one from Paris, and hopefully beat it back.
He took the channel tunnel and arrived just a few short hours later. He was on his own with weapons this time since there were only a few associates left, but he had guns and more importantly a Kevlar vest stored in a safe box from after Hector's funeral. He added the proceeds from this hit to the proceeds from numerable hits Hector completed throughout his career, and went to find a hotel.
Miko was tempted to call Frank once he settled in, but even if he'd brought Toby's red shirt he wouldn't be so bold. Besides, Frank might not even be in France at all. He could be working away from home. Just like Miko.
Slipping on his vest, Miko went to buy a postcard and then took himself out to dinner. He walked by the address just to make sure he could find it, then returned to his hotel to study the photograph. Three o'clock Sunday. He could be home on Monday if it all went as planned. “Straightforward shooting. Nothing to fuck up.”
At 2:52 the third text came through and Miko sighed, relenting to stop and check his phone. Miko had deleted Toby from his contacts along with both previous texts until he had time to call back, just as a precaution. Are you busy? from an hour ago when Miko was leaving the hotel. Fifteen minutes later while he was staring at his steak: Call me when you get this.
Then he read the third message: He responded.
Miko gasped and hopped up and down, looking down the street to see that the gallery was not far away. No more than a few minutes' walk. He had time.
He called Toby back, the phone answered immediately with just as much enthusiasm as Miko had. “He responded!” Toby exclaimed.
“What did he say?”
“'He who knows is now gone. It was ordered from on high.'”
Miko gripped the phone tighter so he wouldn't drop it, his hand shaking. “Say it again.”
“'He who knows is now gone. It was ordered from on high,'” Toby repeated breathlessly.
“Silva,” Miko whispered, daring to say his name. Silva knew who the client was. Claudius didn't. Claudius wasn't dead. Miko laughed, but it died in his throat as he saw the mark leaving the gallery. It was 3:01. “I have to go.” He hung up, hurriedly deleting the number as he walked swiftly down the street, only to pause again as he saw a little girl no older than Tola holding the mark's hand.
She was wearing Nasir's bunny ears.
Miko had to brace himself against a building, watching the mark adjust his grip on her hand while she bounced around playfully. His daughter. Bella's daughter. Then he saw Frank and turned around before he could be seen himself.
It suddenly all made sense. It was never Claudius in Rome. It was a hit and Miko was the target, but Miko had defended himself. Miko wouldn't defend himself against Frank. Against Bella. And if he'd done his job like he was supposed to, they would kill him.
“Oh no oh no.” He tried calling Nasir but there was no answer. He would probably still be on the plane. Then in a rare moment of clarity, he called Simon.
“Yes?” Simon answered.
“He was not there,” Miko lied, making his voice as steady as he could.
“You're sure?”
“He is not here. I am still close enough.”
“Stay in the area. I'll call you back with further instructions.”
“Okay.” He hung up and raised his phone a little so he could use the camera to see behind him without having to turn around and reveal himself. They were going the other direction. Miko took a deep breath and followed, suspiciously looking around for anyone who could possibly be the witness or the client, but he didn't know if it was a man or a woman and there were just too many people.
For a second he thought he lost them, then spotted Frank inside a cafe. Sitting by himself. “It is okay, you are friends,” Miko said, but as soon as he stepped inside and Frank's eyes fell on him, Miko knew they were enemies. Frank started to stand and that's when Miko saw that the little girl was there across from him at the table. Miko hadn't seen her because she was so small. But Miko couldn't back down, couldn't let Frank intimidate him because then Frank's friend would die and all Miko could think was that it could happen in front of the little girl. “We have problem.”
“I'd say so,” Frank coldly said in German. He looked like he was about to tear Miko into pieces.
Miko stepped closer, the little girl watching him now, Frank's fingers moving closer to where Miko imagined he was wearing a gun. Holding his hands away from his body where they could be seen, Miko shook his head.
The mark approached from the washroom in the back with another child, an infant that Miko hadn't even noticed before and a diaper bag, and Frank said something to him in French that Miko didn't understand but he knew Frank was telling him to take the kids and leave.
“Nein,” Miko said, speaking entirely in German because it was likely the girl spoke English and Miko didn't want to frighten her. “He is not safe.”
Frank's green eyes narrowed, but he spoke in French again and the mark reluctantly sat down beside his daughter, his back to Miko. “Come here,” Frank commanded. It was clear that Frank's friend didn't understand German either, but he was still afraid and doing his best not to show it in front of the children.
Miko came closer, following the tilt of Frank's head and other non-verbal cues to sit down in the booth be
side him and hand over his gun. “I think I am set up,” Miko said when he could finally summon speech. Frank said nothing so Miko continued, “I could not do in front of little girl and she had ears and then I saw you and knew he was your friend and I was set up.”
“Simon?” Frank asked.
Miko nodded, the memory of where he'd seen Lorenzo before finally coming into his mind: leaving Simon's flat. If that even was Lorenzo. “He wanted the book and I smacked him in his smug face and now he wants me killed.”
“Who is the client?”
“I do not know,” Miko said and Frank's jaw clenched. “They wanted a witness to be there when it happened so they were nearby.”
Frank started to stand again and Miko truly thought he was about to beat him to death when he saw the reason. Someone had come in, another young man, no older than the mark. He was aiming a gun. Some of the diners closest to the door slipped out in terror, others cowered to the ground. But Miko's first instinct was to protect the little girl and he stood too.
The mark started speaking French to the man, trying to calm him down while also calming his daughter, stroking her hair, keeping her face turned away from what was happening. This man could be the witness but Miko didn't think it was possible he was the client. His clothes were decent but worn, his shoes very scuffed. He did not seem wealthy, he seemed like an artist. Like the mark.
Miko noticed belatedly that he was blocking Frank from getting out of the booth, that Frank had been trying to surreptitiously get past him without alerting the gunman, and when Miko finally did move it was too sudden, too threatening, and the man raised his weapon. Before Miko even knew what happened Frank was holding his shoulders, gaping at him, and Miko looked backwards to see that the gunman had run away. Miko smiled, realizing now what he'd done, that he'd protected Frank from being shot because he was clever just like Mrs. Marlowe said and brave like Toby said, and most importantly he was bulletproof! “It is okay, I am wearing Kevlar!” Miko said proudly, following Frank's eyes to a lot of blood on his shirt.
“It missed,” Frank said plainly.
“Oh.”
A Reckoning
Nasir
The flight times were nearly identical so Nasir chose duty over sentiment, and flew to London to see Simon instead of Paris for Miko. He'd regretfully missed Miko's call but he got Joe Russell's message about what had happened.
He'd regretfully missed a lot of things.
Out of habit Nasir avoided the CCTV cameras as he traveled to Simon's flat, still undecided on what exactly he was feeling when he raised his hand to knock. Guilt? Grief? It was difficult for him even now to register emotions, when he'd been trained so early on not to notice them. Anger? Betrayal? Nothing.
Simon opened the door, not at all surprised to see him. But he pretended to be. Poorly. “What ever are you doing here?” he asked, turning to lead the way inside.
Nasir followed him, removing his shoes as it was customary. The candy dish was still on the coffee table. It was empty. “Miko has been shot.”
“Oh, dear. That is unfortunate news,” Simon said as if it were anything but. “What happened?”
There were hardly words for what had happened. “It seems his mark was a friend of Frank's. And Bella's.”
“Well, Miko has always been unlucky. I suppose they came after him for revenge?”
“No,” Nasir said plainly. “When he realized the identity of his mark, he approached Frank.”
Simon laughed and sat on the sofa. “How adorably naïve. So Frank's the one who killed him then?”
With the realization that Simon was this nonchalant while believing Miko had actually been killed, Nasir acknowledged that what he felt the most was sadness. He'd been as blind as Hector, and Miko paid the consequences. “Miko isn't dead. He took a bullet for Frank, from someone who I'm guessing was connected to the client. A young man. Artist.”
Pursing his lips in clear disappointment, Simon muttered, “Interesting.”
“Who's the client, Simon?”
“And how is that any of your business? You think because you're lovers that I should give a fuck about that fool?”
Nasir sighed. “You've always doubted him. But it seems I was the foolish one. When Miko messed up his first job with you, Silva asked for my advice because I could be impartial. Apparently I could not with you. I overlooked things I should not have and Miko suffered for it. Now I want the truth.”
“What, Bond-villain time? Shall I stroke the cat and confess my plans?” Simon scratched at the sofa to get the cat's attention, pulling it up onto his lap and petting its ears. “How's this? Sinister enough for you?” Nasir deadpanned and Simon rolled his eyes, tossing the cat off his lap. “You never did have a sense of humor.”
“Who is the client?” he asked again. Joe Russell hadn't explicitly stated that he needed the information, but Nasir understood the severity of the situation.
“Which client? That's what you really want to know. Except I think you've already figured that one out.”
“Yes, I have. But I think you're dying to tell someone how clever your plan was.”
Simon smiled. “You know me so well.”
Nasir calmly sat down beside him. “We have known each other for a long time.”
“Silva made it look so easy. Playing all the moving parts. Like chess. It's not easy.”
“And how many moving parts have you played?”
“All of them,” he said smugly. “The fact of the matter is that I need capable men to carry on Silva's legacy. Smart men. You are part of that. You always have been. Miko is not.”
“So you tried to have him killed? Because Miko is of no use to you.”
“No, he isn't. Not anymore. He could've been, but I'm sure you've noticed by now that he fucks everything up.”
“Like getting you Silva's book.”
“Precisely.” Simon turned to the whistle of the kettle in the kitchen. “Tea?”
“No thank you.”
He got up, casually preparing a cup for himself with little regard to the conversation. Nasir was not a threat to him, and it was nice to finally have his plan known so it could be appreciated. “I gave Miko the chance to get that book weeks before,” Simon stated as he walked back into the room holding his cup and saucer. “He let someone walk right up to Stephen Lewis and shoot him in the face.”
“And Ophelia?”
“That was just back up in case no one showed up at Lewis's. Good thing, too.”
“Who did you send?”
“Rodrigo. And you know, that little lamb of Miko's said Rodrigo's name while she was dying. I spent months trying to convince him he'd imagined it, trying to keep him from having a nervous fucking breakdown, and then the bitch's mother goes public with this Hamlet revenge bullshit and it sends him into a spiral all over again. He's quite terrified. The Mako Shark is after him.” Simon laughed and sat back on the sofa. “If only he knew that the Mako Shark couldn't kill him if he tried. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“Who was the man in Rome?”
“Lorenzo. We've already established that.”
“He worked for you?”
“Yes, but I never did like Pellucci. I figured if I sicced Miko on him it might actually turn out to be worth my while. Lorenzo was quite skilled. It's unfortunate. But not as skilled as Frank. I thought for certain he would get the job done.”
“And the client?”
“The client's name is Antoinette Bergeton. Apparently her lover, that artist, felt thwarted by Mr. Evans and asked to have him killed. I figured I would send Miko to do it, and kill two birds with one stone so to speak.”
“What else?”
Simon slumped against the cushions, sipping his tea like this was all so taxing. “Hector called me to complain about Miko usurping Frank's hit. Naturally I couldn't let him try to convince Miko to back off.”
The shock of Simon's words nearly showed on Nasir's face. “You killed Hector?”
“The man was
practically dead already. When they get to be that age a pillow over the face is all it takes.”
Nasir closed his eyes and shook his head. “I'd like to take Miko's things. I do not think you and I shall ever meet again.”
Clicking his tongue, Simon heaved a sigh. “Are you really going to be this way? Over Miko? We have an empire to build, you and I. This is only the beginning.”
Nasir ignored him. “Do you still have his things?”
Setting down his tea, Simon got up and pulled a few bags down from the closet. Nasir briefly rifled through, mostly clothes, a pair of worn red sneakers, gloves, several wrapped Christmas presents. The machete Simon had brought Nasir to kill Leonard Kingsman with was there in the closet as well, propped up against the wall like a vacuum or a mop. Seeing that, remembering how Simon had believed him and helped him enact his vengeance cut Nasir to the core. “Do you have a carrier for the cat?”
“You're taking the cat too? Oh I am being punished.” Simon brought it out and handed it over. “So now what? You go back to your boyfriend, try to track down Rodrigo, which you won't by the way, and the two of you ride off into the sunset together? Don't be absurd. We're on the same side, Nasir. We always have been.”
They had. They were no longer. “Miko is not my lover.” Nasir slipped his hand over the hilt of the machete, his sadness simmering and boiling over into quiet fury. And duty. “He is my brother. And you have seen what I do when someone hurts my family.”
Concern flashed in Simon's eyes for the first time, but by then it was too late.
Nasir stood there long enough for the blood that had reached the walls and ceiling to dry. The carpet beneath his feet was still saturated. It squelched under his step as he walked around the mess that remained. At first he was uncertain where he was, disoriented by the amount of blood and the ringing in his ears. Simon's unfinished tea on the table brought him back to the present and Nasir carried the cup to the kitchen sink, cleaning his hands and running his entire head under the faucet to wash away the gore that had splattered him. He'd left his own belongings in baggage storage at Heathrow but Simon kept a change of clothes for him, and for most of his men. There would be nothing for Miko.
The Mercy of the Mako Shark Page 14
