by Dylan Rust
The feds were listening to Jack via his cellphone. At first they wanted to place a wire on him, but, as Jack made very clear, that would’ve been stupid. That’s the first thing he’d be checked for. It was Luka who suggested hacking into Jack’s phone and uploading the bureau’s new surveillance software. As long as his phone had a charge, they’d be able to listen in. Every one carried a phone. It wouldn’t be suspicious, at all. While it wasn’t ideal, it at least would give the feds some indication as to how things were going inside the club. Jack was okay with it as long as it wasn’t obvious. Luka assured him it wouldn’t be. The software ran in the background, meaning that you wouldn’t be able to tell that it was active by looking at the phone’s screen.
“Privet,” the smaller of the two said in a thick Russian accent. “Clubs full. Come back next month.”
Jack pulled out a handkerchief and wiped some grit off his boots. As he bent down, he made sure that the bouncers could see the stack of hundreds tucked inside his jackets inner pocket.
The bouncers looked at each other. The one who lit the cigarette took a long drag.
“Mr. Big Shot, eh?” he said.
“Hah, Mr. Big Shot. Good one, Nikolai.”
Nikolai had a cleft chin and and a scar down the center of his skull, either it was from brain surgery or an axe. The way the scar folded over itself suggested it was an axe.
“I want to play some poker,” Jack said.
“Is your name on the list?”
“No, but I’ll make it worth your while if you let me in.”
Nikolai pulled up his jacket, showing Jack his gun. “No,” he said. He took a puff of his cigarrette and exhaled the smoke in Jack’s face.
—
The feds van was parked alongside Brighton 6th St. One block north of The Dacha House. Tom parked the van between a hatchback that had a flat tire and a black SUV with tinted windows. They were close enough that if Jack needed help, they would be able to pull him out in five minutes flat.
Jack had told him not to bother. Gangs often sent out groups late a night to scour the streets. They’d be looking for suspicious vehicles. It would be risky.
Tom told Jack to fuck off. He wasn’t going to let Jack boss him around.
The street they parked on was lined with small, dishevelled houses built during the early 1900s.
Inside the van, Tom, Claire and Luka were anxiously listening to Jack’s exchange with the bouncers. They were all wearing headphones.
“You got to be fucking kidding me,” Tom said. “The club is full?” He laughed. “Looks like we will back here in a month. I can’t wait to tell Edward about this. He’s going to be so pissed.”
“Be quiet,” Claire said. She pressed her headphones against her head.
“What?”
“Jack is talking. Shhhh!”
—
The bouncers looked like emotionless slabs of muscle that would do what they were told. It was why they were good at their job. They weren’t going to be easy to break, let alone bend. If Jack was going to convince them to let him in, he’d have to come down to their level. He’d have to play their game. And anyway, he’d expected complications, maybe not this early, but he’d expected them.
“I have the money and you won’t let me in?” Jack said.
“No. Special guests only. If your name is not on the list, you’re not getting in.”
“Come on,” Jack said. “I’m a nice guy.”
“Fuck you,” the smaller bouncer said.
“Come on,” Jack said. “I’ll give you five grand each if you let me in.”
“No,” Nikolai said. “The answer is no.”
“There is a line up people who are waiting to get into the club,” the small bouncer said. “Some of those people are Igor’s friends. The longer you stand here, talking to us, the sooner you will die. Understand.”
Jack smirked. “Tough words from a little guy,” he said.
The small bouncer’s face went red. He swung at Jack. He missed. Nikolai laughed. The line of people laughed.
As Jack ducked, he reached into his jacket and drew his GLOCK 17. He aimed it at the larger of the two bouncers.
“Let me into the club,” he said.
The line of people waiting to get into the club went silent.
The cigarette Nikolai was smoking dropped from his mouth. His eyes widened. Both bouncers stumbled backward, and fumbled inside their jackets looking for their guns. Jack waited. They were slow. They grabbed their makarovs from their holsters and aimed them at Jack.
“What the fuck?” Nikolai said.
“Let me in,” Jack said. “I just want to play a few games of poker.”
—
“He’s beyond a loose cannon,” Tom said. “What the fuck is wrong with him? He’s going to get himself killed. He’s fucking crazy.”
Claire wanted to argue with Tom, but what could she say. He was right. Jack had just drawn his weapon. A weapon that he should not have had. He hadn’t even stepped foot into the club and he was already improvising.
“I thought you checked him,” she said.
“I did,” Luka said. “He must’ve hidden it somewhere I didn’t check.”
Claire shook her head. How the fuck did he get his weapon in there?
“I’m calling Edward,” Tom said. “We’ve got to pull him out of there right away. This is so fucked up.”
“No,” Claire said. “You do that, it’s over. We can’t pull him out. We show up outside the club, Jack won’t be able to step foot in there again. Give him five more minutes. He’s probably just looking for another way in. Improvising, like he said he would.”
“I’m not going to give him…”
“Shut up,” Claire said. “Listen.”
“Is that laughing?” Luka said.
“What the fuck?” Tom said.
—-
Jack and the two bouncers aimed their weapons at each other. The two bouncers had theirs on Jack. He had his on the big one.
They were all smiling.
Nikolai’s laugh echoed through the street.
Jack’s eyes darted back and forth between each bouncer. He studied how they held their gun. He weighed his options. He figured he had two: either slam the butt of his gun against the nose of Nikolai and elbow the small one in the belly and hope for the best or… laugh.
He laughed.
“You’ve got a good sense of humor,” Nikolai said. “You’ve got big balls.”
The typical day of each bouncer involved casual run ins with drunks, druggies, and desperate men looking to make a dishonest buck. The men they usually squared up against were small, anxious and, worst of all, weak. They would always back down, they always caved. Jack was different. He was psychotic. He was like that one fish that puts up a good fight after an easy day of hauling in throwaways. This was one you didn’t want to throwaway. Nikolai wanted to bring Jack in, get a good look at him.
“Boys, boys,” Jack said. “I don’t want to kill you. But I will. Just let me play some poker and we forget this ever happened.”
Nikolai burst out laughing. He couldn’t contain himself. The American was too funny.
“I have money to spend,” Jack said. “That’s all that should matter.”
A car drove past. Its headlights lit up the falling snow. It splashed up a puddle of sludge onto the BMWs parked outside the club. The driver didn’t seem too bothered by the altercation he’d just witnessed. He’d been in this neighborhood before. He knew not to get involved.
“You’re not getting into the club,” Nikolai said. “Come back in a month. I like you. You’re funny. Put your gun away before the police come.”
“All I want to do is play poker,” Jack said. “Let me in.”
“Leave,” the smaller bouncer said. “Play poker somewhere else.”
“Come on,” Jack said. “I’m a funny guy. You said you liked me.”
The two bouncers looked at each other and smiled.
“Okay,”
Nikolai said. “But if you want in you have to play a game.”
“Sure,” Jack said. “What game?”
“Russian roullette.” Nikolai smiled. “You win, I’ll let you into the club.”
14
Nikolai radioed club security. He spoke in Russian. He motioned to Jack that they’d need to wait a couple minutes before they could play the game.
The line standing outside The Dacha House grew impatient. They moaned, they complained. The bouncers told them to shut the fuck up.
The bouncers were looking forward to their game.
Minutes passed.
Three cars drove by. Black tinted windows. BMWs, Mercedes’s, and a Tesla. High-rollers. Gangsters. The passengers inside were on their way to The Dacha House most likely. The cars were just looking for a place to park.
A man and his dog, a chihuahua, walked down the street. He didn’t lift his head as he walked past the club. He was too scared to look. A few girls whistled at him. He picked up his dog when he heard the whistles. “It’s okay, Mya,” he said. “It’s okay.” He sounded nervous. Scared.
Nikolai smoked a cigarette in the interim. He seemed calm as a Summer day.
The small bouncer just stared at Jack.
The door to the club opened.
Two security guards and a young girl walked out.
She was scared. She had too much makeup on. Jack’s heart palpitated. If he could talk to her, he could ask her about Elaine. She might know where she was.
The security guards spoke to the bouncers in Russian. They all laughed and looked at Jack.
“Have fun,” one of the guards said to Jack, nodding.
They left the girl and walked back into the club, locking the door behind them.
“What’s with the girl?” Jack asked.
“She’s who you’ll be playing.”
“A girl? She looks eighteen.”
“You want in the club, you play the game. We make the rules. Like you said, you win, you’re in. You lose…” Nikolai laughed. “You lose, you’re dead. We chop your body up into bits and toss you into the Hudson.”
Jack looked at them and then at the girl.
“Sure,” he said. “I’ll play.”
Nikolai grabbed the girl’s hand. He pointed to the alleyway that ran alongside the club. He and the girl walked down the alley.
Jack followed.
The smaller bouncer followed Jack.
The alley was clean. Too clean. It must have been scrubbed daily of the piss and blood that would have ended up there over the course of a night. It smelled of bleach and soap. The trash cans were organized. Twelve black garbage bags were stacked beside an immaculate steel bin. In the bin were seven clear bags full of empty cans of beer and bottles of vodka. Flattened cardboard boxes were lined up along the brick wall. There were no needles, shell casings, or bits of bone.
Igor was clean, literally.
Jack knew what the alleyways of most normal clubs in NYC were like. They were cesspools of the decrepit, disgusting, and immoral. Bullet casings, blood, and vomit were normal things to find.
This was not a normal club.
“The table is just up here,” Nikolai said. “That’s where we’ll play. It’s just by the back entrance to the club.”
The girl didn’t scream. She looked drugged. She’d accepted defeat long ago.
--
The feds were losing their minds.
“Why would he agree to this?” Tom said. “He’s going to get his ass killed. He’s going to get us found out. And if that girl dies, this will come back to us. This whole investigation is hanging on a thin thread. We’ve got to pull him out. I’m calling Edward.”
Claire was upset, too. She knew Jack would be difficult to rein in, but his actions with the bouncers were too much. How was she going to explain this if it all went wrong? This seemed reckless. Too reckless.
Still, she stopped Tom from calling. She put her hand on his.
“Don’t,” she said.
Tom looked at her. Was she coming on to him? He smiled. “Why?” he said.
“Just give him five more minutes, please.”
Tom didn’t think Claire liked him, but maybe he was wrong. His mind raced. She was hot. Maybe he’d get a chance. “Okay,” he said.
“Shut up,” Luka said. “The bouncers are speaking to each other in Russian. I can’t hear over your bickering.”
Claire and Tom picked up their mics and listened.
—
“пятая пуля.”
“он стреляет первым?”
“Да.”
The bouncers chuckled and leered at Jack.
The alleyway was long and like a maze. It lead to a dead end. At the end of it was a doorway. Two men stood guard outside of it. Nikolai and the small bouncer approached the two men standing guard and informed them of the situation. They said they’d take care of the back entrance for the time being. The two men who were standing guard nodded and walked inside the club through the back entrance. The door closed.
The space behind the club lit by one dim light which was hung on a wall. Under the light was a table and two chairs. There was no where to run. The only way out was back down the alley. If Jack grabbed the girl and made a run for it, they’d both be shot. He spotted dark figures walking along the roofs of the adjacent buildings guarding the club. One or two might miss, but not three.
A light snow fell from the sky. You couldn’t see the flakes in the dark. You could only see them where there was light.
The space was silent. The sounds of the street were distant. The wail of a police siren could be heard. It must’ve been three blocks away, maybe four.
“No security cameras back here?” Jack asked.
“Igor doesn’t want our high-profile guests to feel watched,” Nikolai said. “He wants them to feel comfortable.”
Nikolai pulled out a bottle of vodka from inside his jacket, took a swig and handed it to Jack. Jack shot it back and handed it to the smaller bouncer. The small bouncer took a swig and placed the bottle on the table.
“I got his name,” Jack said, pointing at Nikolai. “I didn’t get yours.”
“Evgeni,” the small one said. He belched, then pointed to the seat. “Give me your gun and sit.”
“If I give you my gun, what’s stopping you from shooting me.”
“What’s stopping us from shooting you right now?” Nikolai said. “If you want to play the game and get into the club, then you’ll give him your gun.”
Jack pulled out his GLOCK 17 and handed it to Evgeni. He sat down.
Evgeni forced the girl to sit down in the opposite chair. She looked into Jack’s eyes.
He looked into her’s. Her eyes were green.
“You’ll be playing against Nicole,” Nikolai said. “Evgeni and I will watch to make sure you’re not cheating.”
“You can’t cheat at Russian Roulette,” Jack said.
“We’ll be making sure there’s no funny stuff.”
The two bouncers stood close to the table, behind Nicole. They had big stupid smiles on their faces. Evgeni pulled a combat knife from inside his jacket and placed it on the table between Jack and Nicole.
“The knife is an insurance policy,” Nikolai said. “If you or Nicole try anything with the gun, like point it at the other player and pull the trigger and it doesn’t go off, the other will have time to grab the knife and kill the one who cheated.”
“If the gun goes off?” Jack said.
“I’ll shoot the one who broke the rule in the head.”
Nicole’s gaze moved from Jack to the knife. It looked like she was considering picking it up. Jack just needed her to be calm. He’d take care of this. But he could understand her pain, anger. She’d been living through hell.
He needed the game to start.
“I imagine one of you has a revolver?” Jack said.
Evgeni snorted.
“You in a rush to die?” Nikolai said.
&n
bsp; “No,” Jack said. “I’m in a rush to play some poker.”
“You’re cocky,” Nikolai said. “And dumb. But whatever. Let’s get this show started.” He snapped his fingers.
Evgeni pulled a revolver out of his jacket. A .45 Smith and Wesson Model 28. He emptied the cylinder onto the table. He grabbed one of the polymer tipped, hollow point bullets and loaded it into the chamber and spun the cylinder shut.
Jack smiled. He knew what he was going to do. He knew his angle. The bouncers didn’t know their guns.
Evgeni placed the gun on the table.
“You go first,” Nikolai said. He was looking at Jack.
Jack reached for the gun, but stopped when Nikolai spoke again.
“One more thing,” Nikolai said. “You each take a turn pulling the trigger. If no bullet is fired, you take a swig of vodka. Either way, you get a shot.”
Both Russians laughed. They thought that was hilarious.
“Enough joking around,” Jack said. “Let’s play.”
He picked up the revolver and held it to his temple.
He took a deep breath.
He pulled the trigger.
The cylinder rotated counter-clockwise and the hammer slammed down on the chamber.
Click.
He placed the gun on the table and took a shot of vodka.
“You’re turn,” he said to Nicole.
Nicole stared at Jack in disbelief. He didn’t even flinch. He didn’t seem scared.
The bouncers smiles disappeared. They had wanted to see Jack squirm. They had wanted to see him cry.
—
“Are you sure that’s what they said?” Claire asked.
“Positive,” Luka said. “The bouncer, Evgeni, he placed the bullet in the fifth chamber. He said he would.”
“If he had that kind of control,” Tom said. “Why wouldn’t he just put it in the first chamber.”
“I don’t know,” Luka said. “Maybe they’re lying? Maybe they’re doing it for fun? Make Jack think he has a chance? Russian’s have a weird sense of humor, y’know.”
“Tell me about it,” Tom said.
“Is there anyway we can do to let Jack know? Can we send him a message?”
“No,” Luka said. “If the bouncers hear his phone go off, they’ll shoot him.”
“We have to do something?” Claire said.
