American Savage

by Matt Whyman

  Titus didn’t answer. He understood the threat, which was why they were heading upriver. If Zolotov refused to back down with his plans for the café expansion then the stretch was secluded enough to dispose of him without witnesses.

  At least, that was the plan until two unexpected passengers had joined them.

  ‘Everything will work out just fine.’ Lev was sitting upon the gunwale to his starboard. Like Titus, he wore a tropical shirt, only his was unbuttoned to the belly. He had already worked up quite a sweat under the sun, which left his face glistening.

  ‘Titus will see sense. Isn’t that right, skipper?’

  Kiril sat opposite, also dressed colourfully, and was in the process of applying sunscreen to his long, bony arms. He looked to Titus, who simply flared his nostrils in response. The pair had claimed they didn’t want to miss out on the fun. As soon as they had let themselves through the villa’s side gate, however, it was plain to Titus that they wanted to come aboard to be sure he would bow to Zolotov’s demands. He only had to see them glance nervously at the man to confirm that they were terrified of him.

  ‘I always do the right thing,’ he assured them, and looked over his shoulder. Zolotov had dipped one hand into the water, watching the disturbance it created. With a sigh, Titus steered the boat towards deeper channels.

  The Loxahatchee River was a branching ribbon of water flanked by cypress trees and thick, tropical vegetation. It was also home to a lot of alligators, as Titus warned Zolotov one mile into their journey.

  ‘You really should stop trailing your hand back there,’ he told him. ‘That’s if you want to keep it. They can get big and bad upstream, and I dare say their blood is colder.’

  ‘Nothing scares me.’ Zolotov flashed a grin at him. ‘I bite back, remember?’

  They had left the last villa behind some time ago. As the waterway began to narrow, Titus slowed the boat. Having taken the northwest fork, the river here was punctured by knuckles of tree roots and dotted with lily pads. Storks watched them pass from their outposts in the mangroves, an eagle circled in the thermals overhead and from time to time a sudden splash would remind Titus that there were predators in the water as well as in the boat.

  ‘Is it safe to fish here?’ asked Lev, as Titus coasted to a halt beside a small island in the waterway. He looked warily at his partner, who was busy applying anti-mosquito spray to his neck.

  ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’ Kiril observed, before holding out the spray to Titus and then Zolotov. Both men declined the offer.

  ‘There’s no going back now.’ Having removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves to reveal a display of crude prison tattoos, Zolotov crossed the gunwale with a fishing rod in hand. ‘This is going to separate the men from the boys.’

  Stepping out from under the canopy, Titus donned the fisherman’s cap that Angelica had insisted he bring with him to protect his dome. Next, he slipped the little anchor overboard.

  ‘Here is good for snapper and snook,’ he said, with one eye on Lev. ‘Also the bottom feeders.’

  ‘Are we cut out for that?’ It was Kiril who understood what this meant. ‘Those feeders can be big mothers, man. We don’t want to get out of our depth here.’

  In response, Titus collected his rod and stood alongside Nikolai Zolotov, who had already cast his line into the water.

  After so much careful planning and preparation, Ivan Savage arrived outside the changing room feeling calm and relaxed. He could hear members of the football team horsing around inside, and braced himself for the usual reception when he opened the door. On this occasion, it took the form of a warm jockstrap in the face.

  ‘How do you like that, new girl?’ crowed Bryce, as he locked his shoulder pads across his chest.

  ‘I’m guessing he likes it a lot.’ It was Ryan who had been responsible for throwing the undergarment.

  ‘Just don’t go using it as a comfort blanket,’ warned Chad. ‘That’s mine for the match.’

  Solemnly, with his bag in one hand, Ivan picked up the jockstrap and deposited it on the bench beside Chad. He glanced around, looking to check that the long foldaway table had been delivered by the janitor. Later, after half-time, he would join the small band of moms who had volunteered to prepare the refreshments and lay out a spread for the team’s return.

  ‘I just wanted to wish you guys good luck,’ he said, having laid eyes on the table, and then backed away towards the door. ‘I’ll be watching the game from the bleachers. Most of it, at any rate.’

  Chad glanced at his two friends. They seemed bemused by Ivan’s warm wishes.

  ‘We don’t need luck,’ he told the boy. ‘We’re invincible!’

  Ivan Savage smiled quietly and opened the door. As he did so, the jockstrap connected with the back of his head, which he continued to hold high as he made his way along the corridor. In a way, the boy could allow them this one last bid to humiliate him. It only served to strengthen his convictions.

  ‘The countdown has begun,’ he said, glancing down at his bag. As ever, he’d left a gap so that Tinky Dinks could peep out. Just then, the gerbil felt like his partner in crime. ‘Those boys are going to suffer, buddy. Mark my words!’

  ‘Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, but talking to a gerbil is kind of cute.’

  With a sigh, Ivan drew to a halt.

  ‘Crystal.’

  He turned to find the girl hurrying to catch up with him. When he met her eyes, she beamed at him. Ivan struggled to look pleased to see her. He had grown to quite like her company over recent weeks, but now was not the time to practise social skills.

  ‘Have you brought Tinky to watch the match?’ A little breathless from the run, Crystal covered the gap that had risen up between her T-shirt and jeans by clasping one arm by the wrist.

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Room for one more?’ she asked hopefully. ‘You can explain the rules.’

  ‘You’re asking me?’ Ivan laughed despite himself. ‘My understanding of the rules is part of the reason why those guys give me such grief. You’d be better off quizzing the gerbil.’

  With a giggle, Crystal reached out to take the bag from the boy. Ivan reacted as if she had just attempted to stab him.

  ‘Whoa!’ She pulled back with her arms raised as he snatched the bag away from her. ‘I’m not going to hurt him.’

  ‘Just … don’t!’ Ivan clutched the bag protectively, struggling to regain his composure.

  Crystal watched him take a step away.

  ‘What else you got in there?’

  ‘Nothing!’

  ‘Well, something’s about to fall out.’ She gestured at the bag. ‘Careful.’

  Ivan dropped his gaze to see the crinkled silver foil package peeping from the side pocket. Hurriedly, he stuffed it back in.

  ‘Team sandwiches,’ he said, regretting it immediately. ‘Not for now.’

  ‘What kind?’

  ‘Never mind what kind!’

  ‘Hey, go easy! What’s eating you today?’

  All of a sudden, Ivan felt under interrogation. The girl might have only been making friendly conversation, but he really needed it to stop. Outside, beyond the doors at the far end of the corridor, the cheerleaders could be heard going through their routine.

  ‘We’d better find a place to sit,’ he said quietly. ‘Are you coming?’

  37

  In the corridor outside Priscilla’s room, Oleg Savage sat upon a plastic chair with his hands on his knees and his gaze fixed upon the wall opposite. When the door beside him opened, he took a moment to raise himself with his stick and then faced the doctor who had been called to the nursing home in such a hurry.

  ‘Will she be OK?’ he asked. ‘What’s happening to her?’

  Judging by the identity badge around her neck, the doctor was at the tail end of her call-out shift from the hospital. The woman looked considerably less tired in her photo, and yet she had come promptly when the staff found Oleg’s com
panion struggling for breath in her bed.

  ‘Priscilla is comfortable,’ she told him, resting a hand on his shoulder. ‘And it’s important for her not to be worrying about you.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Oleg hotly before reaching for the door.

  The doctor moved her hand from his shoulder to his wrist, which she held firmly this time.

  ‘That means rest,’ she said. ‘No drama.’

  ‘Is she awake?’ Oleg glanced at the door, which was ajar. Inside the room, one of the nurses from the home was straightening out the foot of the bedspread. ‘I need to see her.’

  The doctor considered his request for a moment.

  ‘Sir, you do understand what’s happening here?’ Oleg found she held his gaze now with the same purpose that she gripped his wrist. ‘Priscilla is dying. We need to make sure she does so comfortably and in peace.’

  The old man heard her clearly, but didn’t register a change in expression.

  ‘We’re all dying,’ he muttered eventually. ‘Every single one of us, from the moment we’re born. What’s important is that we make the most of our time. No matter how little is left.’

  ‘I understand that –’

  ‘Nobody understands that better than me.’ Oleg kept his voice down, but cut in with such passion that the doctor blinked in surprise and released his wrist. ‘Life is here to be devoured, ma’am, until there’s nothing left on the plate. Not a scrap. Not a crumb. Not a morsel!’

  Within half an hour of dropping anchor, it became clear to Titus that Lev and Kiril were hopeless fishermen. Lev had let a beautiful snook get away by reeling in his line too forcefully, while Kiril had succeeded only in snagging the riverbank. He’d wrestled to free the hook for a couple of minutes, and then abandoned his rod in favour of a beer from the cooler. Titus didn’t consider himself to be a seasoned angler. He knew how to fish, of course. Oleg had taught him as a little boy, along with the hunting and trapping skills that he deployed to this day. Still, like the boat, it was something that he just never found the time to pursue.

  ‘Well, this is the life,’ said Zolotov. ‘It’s a far cry from a Russian winter.’

  Lev and Kiril mumbled in agreement. Titus focused on his float. It had jabbed under the water a couple of times in the last minute. Something, he figured, was nibbling at the bait.

  ‘Jupiter has been good to us,’ said Titus. ‘I wouldn’t do anything to change that.’

  Nikolai Zolotov glanced across at him.

  ‘What I want you to do for me can only improve your life here,’ he said. ‘You’ll still be running a vegan enterprise.’

  ‘But not just one little place by the waterside,’ said Titus. ‘A chain.’

  Zolotov shrugged, like it was no big deal.

  ‘Doesn’t every business want to expand?’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Titus, who had noticed Zolotov’s float was also stirring. ‘But this isn’t a business. The Lentil Rebel is a front for money laundering, and I have to think of my family. I am not prepared for us to take further risks by expanding your criminal enterprise. So let me make you an offer,’ he finished, sounding increasingly determined. ‘We’ve served you well since the café opened. No doubt we’ve washed more cash than your previous venture, and now I’d like to buy you out.’

  Zolotov seemed surprised at first. Then he faced Lev and Kiril and burst out laughing.

  ‘You have to admire this guy. He has some guts! Does he really think I came all this way to make a few dollars?’ Zolotov turned to face Titus once again, and the smile vanished from his face. ‘No deal, my friend. I was upset when you closed down the lap-dancing bar. You put my nephew out of work, and though I see him make no effort to find another job, you saved your skin with this vegan venture. I had no idea there was such a demand. Now it’s time to stop playing pocket money games and build an empire!’

  ‘The public are hungry for it,’ said Lev.

  ‘It’s the golden goose,’ added Kiril with a shrug, and then frowned at the boat deck. ‘OK, not a goose, that would be wrong. Maybe a grape. That’s what you’ve created here, Titus. The golden grape.’

  As the pair spoke, Zolotov placed a hand on his belly, as if in a little discomfort, only to be distracted when Titus’s float bobbed and twitched in the water.

  ‘Let’s just enjoy this moment,’ suggested Lev, and looked pleadingly at Titus.

  ‘You’ll make the right choice.’ Kiril nodded, as if to prompt some kind of confirmation.

  ‘Gentlemen, we didn’t come here to discuss choices,’ said Zolotov. ‘I’m here with an instruction. Titus, if you value your family as much as you claim then we’d be using this opportunity to consider likely locations for the next cafés.’

  Titus caught a glimpse of the man’s teeth once more. The metalwork was menacing, without a doubt, but for once Zolotov didn’t seem to be carrying himself with the same air. If anything, thought Titus, his waxy pallor and the fact that he had to steady himself against the boat’s wheel suggested he was a little unwell. Above all, it revealed a hint of vulnerability.

  ‘Everything OK?’ asked Lev, who had also noticed.

  ‘Just finding my sea legs, I guess.’ Zolotov stood upright once more, rolling his shoulders as if to demonstrate that the moment had passed. Then he lowered his head and glared at Titus. ‘No doubt we’ll all feel a lot better when you stop playing with the lives of your loved ones.’

  Titus drew breath to stand his ground, only for his attention to be drawn by a disturbance in the water.

  ‘Hey, Nikolai, you got a catch!’ Lev stood and pointed at the ripples where his float had disappeared.

  Zolotov grabbed his rod and began to reel in the line.

  ‘Nice and easy.’ Kiril rose to his feet, glancing at Titus as if they both knew just what he was up against here. ‘We can’t have another one get away.’

  Ivan Savage sat upon the bleachers with his bag between his feet. The two teams had reached the final quarter, which is when the boy had begun to jog his knee up and down.

  ‘Nervous?’ asked Crystal. ‘It’s a close game. Hard to call.’

  Ivan glanced across at her, still processing what she’d just said.

  ‘What’s the score?’

  ‘You don’t know?’ Crystal looked at him side-on. ‘Thirty five, thirty eight.’

  ‘Oh, right. So, who’s winning?’

  When Crystal didn’t respond, Ivan stopped focusing on the three players he had been watching intently since the match began and gave her his full attention.

  ‘Well, right now, we’re losing,’ she told him. ‘You really have no idea how to play this game, do you?’

  On the pitch, Ryan had just attempted to smash his way through the opposition, only to drop the ball as they dragged him down. The pair watched him rise to his feet again, spitting insults at the little cornerback bitch who had been in the right place to catch it.

  ‘All I know is that sometimes it isn’t just about brute force,’ said Ivan. ‘Cunning can also bring results.’

  Crystal nodded, still watching as Bryce backed up his buddy by shoving the cornerback into Chad, who responded with a helmet headbutt.

  ‘That’s true,’ she said, as the referee intervened. ‘But we really need to push the big boys forward if we’re going to snatch a victory here. I know those three have been hard on you, but they’re our best chance in the time we have left.’

  ‘Which is running out fast.’ Ivan glanced at his watch. ‘Anyway, I should go help out with the refreshments,’ he said, before collecting his bag. ‘These sandwiches won’t serve themselves.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to stick around to see who wins?’ asked Crystal.

  Ivan picked up on her surprise as he rose to his feet, but didn’t glance back in case she saw the purpose in his eyes.

  ‘I already know,’ he muttered to himself on making his way towards the steps.

  With his feet planted squarely on the deck of the boat, Nikolai Zolotov began to reel his fish in.r />
  ‘This is too easy,’ he said. ‘There’s no resistance, but that’s just how I like it. Saves on the time and sweat.’ Preparing to flick the rod, he faced Titus and grinned at him. ‘The sooner I get my own way, the better.’

  The moment the snook sailed out of the water and onto the deck, it was clear that Zolotov had massively overestimated the size of his quarry. One jerk of the line had been enough to land what was clearly an infant. Now, the tiddler flapped desperately by his shoe.

  ‘Better luck next time,’ observed Titus. ‘Just release it and toss it back in.’

  Zolotov appeared uncomfortable at the sudden landing.

  ‘Release how?’ he asked, before peering up at Titus helplessly.

  ‘By taking the hook out of its mouth.’ Titus frowned. He hadn’t expected this from a man with such a ruthless reputation. ‘You can do that, can’t you?’

  Nikolai Zolotov looked aghast. He reached down and then promptly recoiled when the snook flipped over. When Titus took care of the task, gently returning the fish to the water, an expression of sheer relief crossed Zolotov’s face.

  ‘What was the problem?’ asked Lev.

  He looked at his partner, who appeared equally bemused.

  ‘Are you … squeamish?’

  Titus didn’t need to hear another word from Zolotov, who now seemed as rattled as he did feverish. For in that brief moment with his catch – a tiny creature that he couldn’t even bring himself to touch – the man had revealed a great deal about himself. Titus rose to his full height, ready to square up to him, only for his attention to return to the water when his own float snapped sharply to the right.

  ‘Fish on!’ cried Zolotov, seizing upon the distraction.

  For a second, Titus considered ignoring it while he attended to the matter at hand. When Lev and Kiril crossed the deck to see what was dragging the float, which caused the boat to rock, he sighed to himself and grasped the reel handle. This time, the curve of the rod told them all that the catch was considerable. Titus was forced to brace himself as a fight took shape, which he did both capably and without a word, while his two expat friends offered their encouragement. Only Zolotov hung back from the edge.