Free Darwin's Nightmare by Mike Knowles Page B

killed anyone, but I hadn’t stopped the killing either, so I was as guilty as Steve. If I didn’t try to square this away, Steve and Sandra would be dead by tomorrow, and I would follow soon after. Steve wouldn’t give me up, but they would make it hard on Sandra and she would — in the end. I had to try to mop this up before it spilled over into the streets.
    I drank my tea slowly and turned a quarter in my hand. The only way it was going to work was if I had a sit-down with the boss himself to give an explanation. Tommy had kidnapped and threatened to mutilate Steve’s wife for overdue rent. He went outside the natural order of things, and it had cost him. If someone doesn’t pay up you beat them, or burn their place down. People don’t pay when they’re dead. Dead bodies also have the bad habit of attracting cops; no one wants cops. I had to make Paolo see it this way because the only other way to see it was two men decided they wanted to die in the worst possible way, so they picked a fight with a made man and his family. I finished the tea and left a few bucks on the table, then walked to the phone and dialled.
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œIt’s Wilson. I need a meeting with the man.”
    â€œI’m sorry, sir, I think you have the wrong —”
    â€œI’m coming now and I’ll wait. Pass on a message that I have something important to speak to him about.”
    â€œYou can’t —”
    I hung up the phone before the lackey could finish and made my way to the counter. I sat among the silent men and had another tea and a muffin to make myself busy for ten more minutes.
    I finished eating, paid up, and drove. I got out of the car four blocks from the restaurant and walked the rest of the way. I wanted everyone to see me coming.
    There were always four men out front discussing sports, food, or the women who walked by. The group changed members every couple of hours, but their purpose never changed. They were the first level of security, and if they didn’t like the look of you, you weren’t going anywhere. I crossed the street directly across from the front entrance and watched as the group of four men seamlessly shifted to block my way. By the time I stepped up onto the curb, I was on a collision course with the group as though that was my intention all along. The one to my left spoke as the others closed in around me.
    â€œYou got balls, Wilson, showing up like you call the shots.”
    I didn’t answer because it was meant as a statement, not a challenge. One of the men to my right, shielded from view by his partners, began frisking me. It was a waste of time, I was clean; I left the gun in my car. When the frisk ended I was still in the middle. No one moved.
    â€œI’m going in now, anything stupid and you’re going to get hurt first,” I said to the one who had spoken. He stared at me, and I let my face pull into a grin. It wasn’t productive to do this, but I always hated being frisked. Even more, I hated being stalled by four idiots in a lame attempt at intimidation once I had been found to beunarmed. I brushed past the man to my left, making sure to edge him hard. I never turned back, not even when the four began hurling insults at me.
    Inside the door it was immediately dimmer. On my right was a young woman behind a mahogany counter — another layer of security. The coat-check girl checked over whoever came in and called ahead with any problems.
    â€œCheck your coat, sir?”
    â€œMaybe later,” I said as I walked past the coat-check girl to a set of thick glass doors that led to the dining room.
    â€œEveryone checks their coats, sir, house rules.” Her voice had a hard edge to it; the word “sir” sounded as though it meant “you dumb asshole.” I turned to the voice with my hand on one of the cold glass doors. She was short, maybe five feet, with long dark hair and eyes that matched.