Little World - Chapter One: His Right Hand (345 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 2 on 3 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by a_little_more_time (View user info) at 2006-11-20 13:54:17 EST
Previous Chapters: Prologue - Gone: http://www.ubersite.com/m/92662
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He loved the rain. Most places, he reckoned, probably only got a few good downpours a year, though it wasn't as if he'd really know. Seattle, however, for certain, had rain like a motherfucker, like Vegas had titties and old widows intent on blowing their husbands' pensions. Rain in Seattle was less a weather phenomenon and more a simple fact of life, one that didn't care if it was liked or disliked, but instead insisted on being accepted. He supposed that was why he appreciated it so much; if you lived there, you could either deal with it or fuck off back to where you came from. The rain, such as it was, would not be denied.
He shivered slightly and pulled his tattered jean jacket tighter around his strong, lean frame, making his way down Cass Avenue. The early evening traffic was starting to accumulate, and the mid-autumn sun was already well on its way to the western horizon. He fished his mobile from his pants pocket, checked the time, then quickened his stride. Time was short, and his task would not wait. He turned right on the corner of Cass and Seventh, then ducked through the heavy wooden door of the Third City Bar. He shook his head a few times, tossing water from his straight, shoulder-length black hair, pulled a cigarette from a pack, lit it, then stepped from the small entryway into the tavern proper.
He took a drag as he strode to the dark, relatively empty bar. The proprietor behind the counter cast him a look as he did so, and immediately poured him a Stoli and tonic and produced a clean bar towel, setting them both on the bar. He instantly knew what that meant, but decided it prudent to go through the motions regardless. He took a seat and dried his hair and face with the cloth, then took a sip of the drink. He regarded the balding, heavyset man as he busied himself with loading a rack of glasses into the small dishwasher, then spoke as he turned back to him. "Seth."
The manager nodded. "How've you been?"
He nodded, finishing his smoke and stubbing it out into an ashtray. "Well enough. Yourself?"
He shrugged. "Can't complain. Business is good."
"Mmm. And the family?"
"Doin' fine. Marcy's got another bun in the oven."
He smiled slightly, taking another sip. "Good for you. Catch the Seahawks last night?"
Seth grimaced and sighed. "Fuckin' bastards. I haven't seen them that lousy in ages. Couldn't even manage to beat the spread."
He lit another cigarette. "You didn't lose too much, I hope?"
"Naw, naw. Not smart to bet what you can't manage."
"Too true." He paused, finished his drink, which was promptly refreshed, then spoke in a quieter tone. "I'm glad to hear that you're doing so well. I expect my boss will be at ease, too, knowing that you're prepared to settle the last two months' balance."
It was Seth's turn to pause now, shifting uneasily on his feet and pretending to restock the well. He waited patiently for him to finish before locking him in a gaze, addressing him calmly. "Am I wrong? Will I need to tell him otherwise?"
Seth laughed nervously. "Well, you know how it is, right? Business is good, but it ain't THAT good, and I ain't the only bar even on this street, see?"
He nodded slowly, keeping his expression neutral and allowing the slight malice in his voice to reveal his mood. "I do see, yes. Unfortunately, Mr. Yuri does not share my understanding; he is tired of hearing your excuses through me, and as he is my employer, I'm obligated to return, every month, with the payment you rightfully owe him."
The manager coughed, glancing around skittishly. "I'm sorry, man, but I just don't have the money. Not right now."
He slid off the barstool abruptly and stood, straightening himself. "As I said, I'm afraid that will no longer suffice. Perhaps you should take me back into your office so we can determine how much recompense you ARE able to make."
Seth paused here, his eyes turned down to underneath the bar, no doubt contemplating his chances with the shotgun he kept there. He spoke again, pushing his jacket back slightly to reveal the nine millimeter semiautomatic holstered tightly against his side. "I wouldn't, Seth. It's not a bet you can manage."
He sighed heavily, rubbing his temples with a hand. His voice was laden with desperation. "Please, Alexei, have some compassion. Tell Yuri that--"
Alexei cut him off with a wave. "Mr. Yuri's compassion and patience have reached their limits as far as you are concerned. Now, the office, if you please."
Seth finally obliged him, emerging from out behind the bar and leading him back into his small, cluttered office. He stepped to the side, pushing a stack of papers on the floor against the wall, revealing a small safe built into the ground. Alexei smirked to himself. "Nice one, Seth. Can't steal what you can't carry away, right?" Seth said nothing, instead kneeling to twist a code with the dial. He then opened it up, revealing several $10,000 bundles of hundred dollar bills.
Alexei smiled. "Well, it looks as though business isn't good so much as it is booming." He knelt and withdrew three of the bundles, then stood and tucked them into an inner pocket in his jean jacket. "These should suffice for the principal and the interest." He started toward the door.
Seth muttered under his breath. "Fucking Russian bastard..."
He turned neatly on his heel. "I beg your pardon?" He lowered his gaze at him once more. "Are you upset because you were foolish enough to come to us for money without the intention of repaying it, or because the threat of violence has been used to ensure you make good on your agreement? Surely you aren't so ignorant that you were unaware of Mr. Yuri's reputation before you met with him, hat in hand. What did you expect, I wonder, when you decided to horde these profits in lieu of honesty?" He sneered slightly at him. "Be thankful of my forcefulness, Mr. Brikowski, because it's ensured your family's safety for another month. Obviously it was something with which you were willing to negotiate."
With that, he turned again and closed the door quietly behind him, leaving Seth on the floor. He strode quickly out of the bar, then paused, leaning against the old brick of the bar, and lit another cigarette. He took a long drag, then let it out with a sigh. "God dammit," he whispered, running his hands through his hair, which was already starting to get soaked once more.
* * * * *
Alexei stepped off the number eight bus, then walked two blocks west to the docks, where Yuri's operations called home. He made his way to Warehouse Five and strode quickly to the south side of the building. He walked right past the two large, buzz cut guards, both of whom acknowledged him with a slight nod as he did so. He returned the gesture as he walked into the building.
The large interior was a hive of activity; a group of a dozen men in one corner were working on gutting a Jaguar XJ8 and an Audi TT, shouting orders, curses, and dirty jokes to one another in Russian. Further inside, six women were seated at tables stuffing plastic bags full of pot, then tying them up and tossing them into suitcases. As he neared Yuri's office, there were three enforcers leaning up against the wall, cleaning some antiquated AK-47s. These last three looked up at him as he knocked on Yuri's door with what he was sure was either fear or respect, although he doubted there was much difference between the two, given the circumstances.
A gruff voice bode him enter, so he did. He stepped into a dimly-lit, thickly-carpeted office filled with dark wood bookcases and framed pictures on the walls. A small, thin faced man with short, salt-and-pepper coloured hair was seated in a highback chair, facing him. His grim visage brightened when he recognized him, and greeted his chief enforcer. He had a booming voice, which belied his stature. "Alexei!" he exclaimed. "Sit, sit."
He sat. Yuri Malovich was, despite his vigorous appearance, was over forty. He was a survivor hardened by living his first thirty some years in the midst of the Cold War, developing the instincts and intelligence that were so useful in the world of organized crime. After the fall of the Iron Curtain, he took the first opportunity to immigrate to the States; he had arrived in Seattle, dug in, set up shop, and never left. Today, he was likely one of the most powerful men in the entire Pacific northwest. Little occurred that missed his notice; he had his hands in all manner of illegal activities, and he was a shrewd manager of resources and personnel.
He was also, until recently, the person Alexei respected the most.
Yuri regarded him and spoke in English. He always did this with him, although out of respect or as some kind of test he never knew. "I take it you've been to see Seth."
Alexei responded in fluent Russian, setting a tone of deference. "I have. He wasn't terribly forthcoming, but..." He reached into his jacket and set the cash upon his desk, then leaned back in his chair, folding his arms.
Yuri grinned and picked up the money, counted it, then split one of the bundles in half and passed it back to Alexei. "Your cut."
He took it, thumbed through it, and pushed it back to his boss. "Can you put it in the account for me?"
He blinked once, then nodded with a slight frown. "Of course." He regarded him for a moment, then spoke with concern in his voice. "Are you all right? You seem distracted, my brother."
Alexei looked to the side. "Seth's wife is pregnant again."
"How wonderful. He is a fine father."
"He might be a better one if he wasn't living hand-to-mouth. He can't have a savings if you won't let him."
Yuri smiled. He had a tendency to show more teeth when he grinned than was probably necessary in everyday conversation. "He knew what he was doing when he came to me asking for that loan. You attended that meeting at my side, do you remember? I made it very clear to him what the conditions were."
Alexei nodded. "Yes, I do. I also realize that the interest rate you offered him seemed more viable based on his projections two years ago. He's never met them."
"I'm aware of that." Yuri paused, then spoke more deliberately. "You believe I should pity this man."
'"I do, sir, yes, with respect. He has never intentionally done wrong toward you."
"No, that is for certain. He is a good man." His eyes turned to a picture on his desk. "Unfortunately, what you might not understand is that to go back on an agreement I made is to compromise my principles, and that is something that I cannot do."
"Because you would appear weak?"
"That is one reason, yes, but not the primary. I have few enemies here; I don't need to worry about an usurper. My greatest concern is internal; this is a business I am running here. We may operate outside of the law, but we do not have anarchy; we must still rely upon rules, and one of my rules is that I do not change any agreement I make, because doing so is far too complicated."
Alexei forced himself to stay his tongue. He could see where Yuri was leading this conversation, and continuing his argument was a losing proposition. He took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "Yes, sir. I understand, sir."
Yuri's features softened. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Alexei, you have worked for me for over eight years now. I've watched you grow from a street whelp to my most trusted man. You've exceeded my expectations constantly; you speak Russian now as though you just stepped off the boat, and no person who's ever fought with you once has ever done it again. I've watched my business thrive because of you." He smiled again. "Please, put your mind at ease about this problem. Seth and his growing family will be fine, I assure you. For you, I shall find a way to aid his situation. All right?"
He stood, tilting his head slightly toward his employer in respect. "Thank you, sir." He strode to the door, walked out of the office, and left the warehouse. He strolled slowly to the bus stop, leaned against the shelter, lit a cigarette, and closed his eyes. He was certain that Yuri was lying; he would do nothing to help Seth save for arrange to have another enforcer begin making his collections. Alexei was too great an asset to insult to the point of losing him; Yuri would do the bare minimum to keep him around in terms of compromising his position. He took another drag. "Might've been better off not sayin' anythin' at all," he muttered, as his cell phone rang.
He didn't answer it, even when it rang again, and again. "God dammit."
******************************************************************************
"Six foot below,
Reap what you sow,
Grim without grief,
Sad without sorrow."
- Shiro Sagisu, Apocalypse
[To be continued...]
User Reviews
Submitted by MadameDestrukt (user info) at 2006-11-21 13:37:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by hour_man (user info) at 2006-11-21 09:26:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Doodles (user info) at 2006-11-20 18:22:19 (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow. first review. One of the better things posted today, to bad it got over looked.
Shorter posts = more reviews remember that.
\-------
Very very good.
Submitted by Doodles (user info) at 2006-11-20 18:22:19 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow. first review. One of the better things posted today, to bad it got over looked.
Shorter posts = more reviews remember that.