I decided to call the whole thing off. I had to face reality. It might cause me some discomfort and loss of respect from the cronies, but who were they to me? I could just take them out. No one cares about the cronies. Leeches, trying to get a few crumbs from the very top. Sucking the life away from the rest of us, while the oligarchs try to fend off the blood-sucking parasites. The rest of us are caught in the middle. Or I should say the rest of you. No one touches Robert Martin. But you, yes I’m pointing my finger at you, going about your day, minding your business. I wish I was like you.
If I was like you, I’d go to the oligarch. He might protect me. He might give me a good living and kill Charlie and the men that plot against him. I’d be a whistle blower, the man who protects the oligarch! Then everyone will know my name, Robert Martin! Protector of the meek. Protector and loyalist to the family of men from the old country. But I am not you! Too late for me now. I have to pull the trigger. Do you know what that is like?
Stop ranting. Do what you have to do.
I looked down at the black iPhone I held in my hand. My thumb hovered over the name CHARLIE. But before I could press on the name and dial Charlie’s number...
The sudden sound of the phone ringing startled me. I answered.
“I’m worried about you,” said a voice on the other end of the line.
It was a voice I recognized but could not put a name to it.
“Come to my place,” said the voice.
I asked no question. I hung up and dashed for my car. The ride was quick and painful. I rubbed my forehead the entire time, hoping to release the pressure inside my skull. It was useless. When I finally reached my destination, the pain was unbearable. If only I could dip my tongue in a glass of whiskey. My vision was nearly gone and I had a hard time holding my head up. I nearly smashed into a few cars along the way.
Why aren’t the cops stopping me?
I stepped out and reached for the iPhone in my pocket. I needed to make sure I had the right address. That’s when I noticed that I was completely drenched. I was wet, from head to toe. The sweat came down my forehead and into my mouth. How embarrassing, I was losing control. If Charlie saw me in this condition, he’d probably order a bullet to my head. He wouldn’t even think twice about it. An assassin taken out by another assassin. That kind of crap only happens in the movies.
I took off my jacket and wiped the sweat off my forehead, my armpits, and my chest. I looked up at the sun, which nearly blinded me. It was so hot outside, over a hundred degrees. How? The weather was so pleasant in the morning. And why was I wearing a jacket?
I took small steps towards the house on Louis Street, hoping it might somehow vanish into thin air by the time I reached it. It was an old yellow-colored carpenter house. The grass was well-kept, so was the front of the house, but the siding on the right side was rotting away.
I’ve been here before. I just can’t remember when.
I was out of breath when I reached the front door. Why was it so hot? I hesitated for a moment before approaching the front door. Then I knocked. Kristine’s words echoed through my mind as I waited for someone to answer the door, “Good things are everywhere, you just have to look.” There was nothing good here, just pain and destruction. Here, inside this house, I was either going to be killed or help plot to kill. I knocked again; this time I banged on the door with my fist. Finally, someone answered.
“Hello!”
His name was Tiger, that’s what everyone called him, but his real name was Richard Ayvazov. I had met him a few times at various parties, like weddings. The man loved to talk. He had a funny accent but spoke clear English, and built himself up as a master of all subjects.
“Come in my brother. How are you? Long time!”
He shook my hand and pulled me closer. We exchanged a half-hug. Then he stepped back and gave me a look and a smile.
“Very long time,” he said.
Then came another embrace, this one was a full hug and he patted me on the back.
“Good to see you Tiger. Where’s Charlie?” I asked, thinking somehow Charlie had arranged this meeting.
“Charlie not here. Just you and me. Come inside bro, see my new house! You like? I just buy it last month. I renovate, all new! Cabinet, floors, kitchen, all new! Check out the television,” he pointed to flat screen hanging on the wall, “sixty-five inch LED. Brand new! Nothing but the best for your brother Tiger. That’s why they call me Tiger. They say to me, Tiger, how is it you always have the best of everything? I tell them, the world is my jungle, and Tiger always gets what he wants. I see it, no matter what, I buy. No money in my pocket, no problem. I drag the donkey out of the mud. That’s how I do it.”
This house… I have been here before.
“Come sit, I make barbeque for us.”
“I can’t stay long Tiger. I have things to do.”
“Of course my brother. How about a drink? Vodka, whiskey?”
“Whatever you’re having.”
“Whiskey! I hate vodka, Russian drink. Animal drink. No substance, no flavor, no pleasure. Drink of the drunkard. I am no drunkard. I drink to enjoy life!”
He slapped me on my back and I jerked forward. If the circumstances were different, I might have punched him the face. He was starting to bug me. But my tongue yearned for that drink. The sweat now poured out of my armpits. I must have looked like a nervous wreck.
“It is hot outside?” he asked.
“A little bit.”
“Sit my friend, sit! I get you that drink. On the rocks? With ice?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Okay.”
Tiger hurried to the kitchen and returned holding two glasses of whiskey. We slammed glasses and I drank down the entire glass. The pain became a numbing sensation. He asked me if I wanted another one, “Yes! Please.” I said. He hurried to the kitchen and brought back the entire bottle.
“It is beginning to look like, in my eye, that we are going to finish the whole bottle together!” He chuckled.
I agreed with him and drank down the second glass of whiskey. The pain was gone. There was only serenity. A smile came across my face and my knees weakened as I hunched deeper into the couch.
“You like the drink? It is number one whiskey in the world. Made in Thailand. Yes, Thailand whiskey. Lot of people don’t know this, but they have the world’s best whiskey.”
“What’s it called.”
“I can’t tell you brother. If I do, you will tell the world with your big mouth. Let’s keep this our secret. To Tiger and Robert Martin, and to Thailand.”
We slammed glasses again and drank another round.
“Now brother, it is time for business. First I want to say,” he held his hands together like he was praying and came closer, “What you are doing, I respect that my brother. No one else had the balls to do it. But here you are, Robert Martin. I always said, the first time I meet you, this man has balls. I told Charlie, we need to get this man a raise, a bump in pay, keep him happy. For us, the brothers, the family. We are always brother – me, Charlie, George, Edo, Sasha, Malcolm, Andy. It has always been that way, even if I came to this country late in life, but because of the old country, we stay strong together, we have a bond. We love each other. Now, after you do this thing, you will be one of us, my true brother. This is not the mafia, don’t think of us as those animals. We have actual loyalty to each other, to our families, to life. And no matter what, we try and make each other happy. If one of us is not doing good, the other steps in to help. Like a circle, round and round it turns, and each part of the circle is very well taken care of.”
“Thank you,” I said and held up my glass.
“Who is this man, the boss? Why call him the boss?”
“I call him the oligarch.”
“What? What is that? You are too American Robert. With your fancy words.”
“Oligarch, it means…”
“I don’t care what it means. I don’t want to learn new words my friends. Not w
ith a drink in my hand. But who cares about him. This oly-something you call him. This supposed boss. He has some stupid ties to the old country? Is that why we are supposed to care. Do you know what they do in the old country? These old-world bosses who have no idea what life is like here… FBI, police, CIA, DEA, IRS, taxes, surveillance, constantly looking over my shoulder. They have no clue. So why do we have to listen to them? Tell me my brother.”
“I don’t know.”
“Exactly, I don’t know too. We don’t need them. We have plenty here to take care of ourselves. Everything is becoming so much more challenging. We can’t even do decent credit card work anymore. Everything is out in the open. And the monkey cops run after us, and target us, and tap into everything we have. That’s why I have no internet here my brother. No phone. I don’t carry a cell phone. It’s in my car. Edward Snowden told me this, I watch in documentary. Only Blu-ray player and giant TV my brother. I watch everything on disk. Do you know how much we send them each month?”
“Who?”
“Are you even listening to me? The bosses, from the old country! The oly-somethings. It is in the millions. Millions my brother! And what do they do with it? They eat it, and they eat the meat of the people. Those poor souls back in the old country, they eat their meat. One by one, each man, woman, child, they eat and eat. Their bellies are never full.”
He stared straight into my eyes and broke down. It must have been the whiskey talking or maybe it was real. I didn’t care either way, I just wanted to make it out in one piece.
“Ask me how I decided to take out this man. This man who calls himself the boss. Ask me!”
“How,” I blurted out.
“One day, my brother. This was a few years ago. He asked me to set up a telethon. It was for public access TV. And he said it was for the orphans in the old country. The orphans my brother. Who doesn’t want to help out the orphans? I want to? Do you? Of course you do! I went down to the station and paid the fees and we had a time slot. We advertised all over the local newspapers, and to the people from the old country. All of them! Everyone knew about it, even the Mexicans and the Americans. Everyone was ready to help. They call in, donate a few dollars, and by the end of the night we’d have enough money to save the orphans.
The money was going to be used to build the poor little children a new building. The building was supposed to have a new school, sleeping quarters, new beds, and a new library, with all the books from around the world. Even the boss man, he promised to donate in the thousands. So, the telethon began. We had calls. Hundreds of calls, thousands of calls, the host kept pleading to the people. We even had a live chat with an orphan, who was so excited to sleep on a real bed. And by the end of the night, we had collected twenty-three million dollars. Enough to build a state-of-the-art facility for the orphans. You know what happened next, my brother?”
“I know. I’ve heard this story.”
“Then you should not feel bad for the scum. You should never feel bad for scum.”
He wiped away his tears and stood up.
“Wait here, have some more drinks.”
He left the living room and walked to the back of the house through a narrow hallway.
“Hey buddy! Can you believe this guy? What a joke.”
I picked up the half-full cup of whiskey. The room began to spin as I pondered whether to take another sip.
“Can you believe this guy, buddy?” the cup began again, “What a joke! Can’t even hold his liquor down.”
“Stop!”
“Stop what? What did I say? Hey buddy, you want to grab something to eat? All this talk of meat eating sure is making me hungry. Hey look, here he comes again. What a joke! He can barely keep himself from falling over.”
I gulped down the whiskey to make it shut up. I could hear it screaming down my esophagus.
“Here it is Mr. Martin!”
Tiger entered the room holding several guns, a rifle, and a shotgun strapped to his shoulder. He sat next to me and spread out all the guns on the coffee table. Then he picked up a nine millimeter with a silencer on the tip.
“With this you can do it quick and easy. Just make sure to aim for the back of the head. You will need to come up from behind, so as not to alert him.”
“From behind? Like some sort of video game.”
“Video game? You want video game? I have the video game.”
He handed me a shotgun.
“One shot with this from close range and kaput! Over, out instantly! But! Remember, it makes a lot of noise. Very loud! You ever shoot anyone with one of these?”
“Not really.”
“Okay, well it makes a lot of noise and a lot of mess. Especially from close range. But you will need to be close to make it effective. You can’t really do much with this from far away. But we have a solution, if you want range. Some people prefer range. They don’t like to look at the victim. Snipers! Goddamn cowards. Which brings me to this little beauty.”
He held the rifle and began stroking the butt of it all the way to the tip.
“This is a beautiful weapon,” he said, “Soviet made. The best! One of our brothers smuggled it in from the old country. The army actually used this weapon on the field. During the war.”
“I didn’t exactly come here for guns. I have plenty of those.”
“Really? Okay brother, what did you come here for?”
What did I come here for? I didn’t even know. Maybe another drink might help improve my memory.
“What did you come here for?” he asked again, “Before you say anything brother, let me warn you, do not second-guess yourself. You have assignment, you complete the assignment. Nobody respects a man who can’t finish, but everyone will honor a man of his word.”
I grabbed the bottle and poured myself another drink.
“Now I remember why I’m here,” I said with a laugh, “you called me and asked me to.”
He laughed and I laughed with him and we slammed glasses.
“Brother,” said Tiger, “I did not call you. You just showed up at my doorstep.”
“Stop messing around. I’m not that drunk.”
“You stop,” he said, “tell me, what is it. Did you come for money? If you want more money for the assignment, I will talk to Charlie and we can work something out.”
“You called me,” I said, “and I came immediately.”
“I did not call you.”
“Yes you did! Look I’ll show you.”
I took out my phone and with a few clicks went to my received calls. The last call was from Charlie. There was no call from Tiger.
“So what are you showing me?” asked Tiger.
I paused for a moment, feeling very stupid. Had I lost track of all my senses?
“You’re losing it buddy,” said the glass of whiskey sitting in front of me on the coffee table, “just say something to cover yourself. Don’t be stupid. They can’t know your losing your mind. Say something! Anything!”
So I said the first thing that came to my mind.
“I came here for advice. How should I do it? Gun? Poison? Knife? Rope?”
He held up his glass which was now empty and fell back onto the couch.
“This was fun brother, but I need you to leave now. I have things to do. I have no advice for you. This is your job. You decide how you want to do it. I don’t even know why you would be so stupid as to come here. I can’t be seen with you Mr. Martin. For a moment, I thought you were here to kill me. That’s what everyone thinks, when Robert Martin shows up. You’re a killer. But you are also a stupid killer. Go. Do your job. Before Charlie kills both of us.”
Tiger curled up in one corner of the couch and fell fast asleep. Weak! I remained sitting for a while before deciding to have another glass.
“Hey buddy! Look at him! He’s out like a cold turkey. Hey I got an idea! We should off this guy right now. Look at all the guns on the table buddy. You know he’s a lousy shithead who’ll never give you proper respect. Even if you
off the oligarch, you’ll still get no respect. Come on buddy! Grab a gun and point it at his head and blast his brains out. The one with the silencer. Use that. That should do it really quick. Buddy? Are you listening to me? Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
I looked down at the glass of whiskey.
“Do you know how I got here?”
“Sure I do, you were led here. To this house. There’s something here inside this house buddy. It’s your whatchamacallit, telling you something. Your brain just created a fantasy, a fictional call and an answer for you to get up and get over here.”
“There’s nothing here.”
“Of course there’s something here buddy. And you’re looking down at him. Now pick up the gun and off this bastard. That’s why you’re here. It’s to kill all the oligarchs, not just one. What, you think he’s better than the rest of them. They’re all the same buddy. And it won’t stop until you kill all of them. Think about it, they will never respect you. You’re a half of one of them. And it isn’t the good half. From your mother’s side. The old world where they come from, mother would be considered a whore for marrying an outsider. They’ll never respect you. You don’t have the proper surname. All you got is that nose of yours. It resembles them, but the rest of you buddy, the rest of you is an outsider. Don’t fall for empty promises. Off this guy now and let’s go home to your kids. Don’t you miss your kids buddy?”
I grabbed the glass of whiskey and hurled it as hard as I could. It shattered into a million pieces against the flat screen TV, leaving a crack on the right side of it.
It was time to leave.
I grabbed the nine-millimeter with the silencer on it and pointed it at Tiger’s head. He was snoring like a pig.
“You are not invincible,” I said.
Then I pulled the trigger.
8.
Click, click, click, click. Keep pulling the trigger buddy, there might be a magic bullet inside. Like the one that killed Kennedy.
There were no bullets inside the chamber. Tiger remained in a fetal position, snoring loudly.
The Oligarch (Robert Martin Book 1) Page 4
