(2012) Blood on Blood (12 page)

“Listen, really, we’re good here,” he says quietly.

“
We’re good here
?” I laugh a quick bark. “No, no, I don’t think so. See, I’m in here all the time. I see you again, there won’t be any cute talk.” I give him a shrug and smile. “So, like, get the fuck out…now.”

He doesn’t say anything to that but he sure is listening real close.

I lean in.

“That, ass face, is my
specific need.
”

He gets up slowly, digs his wallet out and puts some money on the bar. Then he acts like he’s checking messages on his fucking Blackberry and puts it in his pocket. He straightens his suit a little and looks over to the other guy who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else right now.

“Let’s get going, Chris. We’ve got to be downtown by six and I don’t want to be late for that dinner. Going to hit the john and we’re outta here.” He walks off to the restrooms.

My bartender already has a new beer in front of me. I look down at Ania and she finally sees me. I tip my bottle at her and flash my best smile. I get up and start to head down the bar towards her but I change my mind. Just for the hell of it. It won’t take a minute.

One other customer is in there and he zips up, goes to the sink. My guy finishes, turns and bang he’s looking right at me. Three feet away. His eyes get big and I hit him hard, right the fuck in the nose, then take a little quick step to the side for a good angle.

He already sounds like a little girl but I pop him another good one on the side of the head, right on the ear. Down to one knee he goes. His nose is leaking bad, blood streaming through his fingers. Fat red splatters on the tile floor already. I take a step back so I don’t get any of that shit on me.

“The fuck’s going on?” The older guy combing his hair at the mirror says, looking at me in the reflection.

“Fucking gay bastard,” I say. “We don’t need them in this bar. Just making sure he don’t come back.”

My boy is all whiny and shit. Standing now but bent over at the waist and moaning with both hands to his nose.

The guy at the sink shakes his head and shoves the suit sideways on his way out. “Fucking faggots are worse than shines these days. They’re everywhere. Like it’s fucking L.A. or something.” The old boy goes out, still muttering.

“Stand up straight, pussy,” I tell the twink.

He does but he’s still got his hands on his face.

“Look, I’m leaving, okay?” His voice is muffled and all quivery.

“Not okay.”

His eyes go back and forth and he’s thinking what to say and how to get the fuck out of here.

I still don’t say anything.

“Wha…What do you want, man?”

“You forgot to say you’re sorry. Then asshole, and only then, will we
be good here.
”

“Hey, how’s my girl doin’?”

“Hey yourself. I was wondering how long you were going to keep sitting down there. Playing hard to get?” She gives me a wink, blows some hair out of her face and hooks a loose strand of that gold back behind an ear. The blond ponytail look has never been worn better.

“You were too busy. I didn’t want to interfere with the help. Patrik wouldn’t appreciate that.” I smile again and sit down right in front of her. As I’m saying that I realize what she had just said. She had been watching me watch her. Dangerous girl. I add that to the restroom scene just now. Acting like I’m some  high school quarterback defending the prom queen’s honor. Shit, this was getting way out of hand. Next thing you know, I’ll be sending her fucking Hallmark cards.

Ania throws the bar rag over her shoulder and kind of hops up, leaning over the bar as far as she can up on her elbows.

“Oh, I think it’s a little late to be worried about you
interfering
with me, don’t you, big boy?” The smile she gives me this time is sly, nice and dirty.

She laughs quietly and takes my hand – the one that hurts like a bastard now, and gives me a little squeeze.

She’s still got that ‘come to me’ smile but slides slowly backwards and does the little hop thing back to the floor. It’s all I can do not to jump right over the bar after her. At this point, I don’t give a rat’s ass how out of control this is getting, or how dangerous to my business I think she might be, or how this is not the way I usually roll with women.

Here’s the deal. It is what it is, and I’m about half hooked already by her. I admit it and I don’t care.

She’s pouring a Michelob draft now and looks back at me over her shoulder. “I’m off early tonight. Around ten or so.”

She sets the beer in front of a poor guy two stools over. He’s doing his damnedest not to look at those jeans as she walks back to the register. The tortured asshole gives me an embarrassed, forced smile and shakes his head.

“I don’t know, babe. Sorry but I’m really busy these days. I’ll probably have to call you in a couple weeks.” I can’t believe I’m doing this cutesy, lovey bullshit, but I am.

“Is no problem. I find something else to do.” She pouts and shrugs. I realize she’s laying on the Polish accent pretty heavy again too. Jesus.

“All right, you win. Ten it is, but my schedule is pretty full.”

I finish my beer and walk over to the end of the bar. She comes over and I put an arm around her waist pulling her up tight to me for a second. Real tight. She puts a hand casually on my hip and smiles up at me again.

“We gonna do something right here, right now?”

“Hey, it’s your call. The tips would probably be really good after that.”

“See you at ten. Are you leaving, leaving?”

“Nope. The boss in back?”

“When is he not?”

“I’ll see you later. I’ll be around.”

As I walk towards the back, I’m thinking about her and the money and us together and a bunch more. It’s all good. Better than good.

I come up casually on a couple of big bruisers just inside the first hallway off the kitchen. Both are wearing sport jackets that are tight across the chest and arms. I can tell both have guns under those jackets too. One of them, the same blond crew cut ape, recognizes me from the other night I think.

“I’m Jerzy. Patrik is expecting me.”

He nods at me nice enough but holds up one very large hand as a stop sign.

He leaves to check with Patrik and the other guy stays with me. Not quite as big as crew cut but definitely put together. His chin is up a little, he’s got an attitude. A jagged, rocky face. Definitely Eastern European. He doesn’t say a word just looks back down the dark hallway, but he keeps a parrot eye on me. Crew cut comes back quick, nodding his head yes to his buddy and we all do the escort thing down the hallway maze.

Another guy walks toward us as we make the final corner that leads to Patrik’s office. Right away this guy gets my attention. Small wiry guy, ageless type. Could be thirty or fifty. You know, one of those guys. Age doesn’t really matter though, because he’s giving off that certain something that some do as he walks by. It’s like a ‘this is the day you’re gonna die’ feeling. Not him, you. Cops and criminals both know this vibe. It has nothing to do with big, strong, threats or ass kicking. He would have gotten Mick’s attention too, guarantee you that.

He’s wasting no time, looking straight ahead and his eyes…shit, his eyes are just fucking dead. Black. No soul. Like a shark. Tough looking little fucker. Lethal.

Could be a nobody, I suppose. Could be a soldier or a pissed off coke runner that just had to pay too much of his share. Could be somebody wanting in, or the fuck out, of Patrik’s organization. Who really knows, right? Then again, he might be the poor sap from the west coast who doesn’t know he’s being set-up to take the fall for this hit tomorrow. He did have the right eyes for that.

We get to Patrik’s office and crew cut turns to me.

“I will check you now.”

“Say what?”

“Put hands high in the air.”

“I have a gun, but I have no wire.”

“Of course you do. No problem, I will give back.”

I’m really not liking this at all now, but the money at the end of this game is calling my name.

I’m looking at him and he’s looking me.

“Mister Jerzy? Hands high, please. Right now.”

Ah, what the fuck. If this wasn’t Ambrozy’s though, no fuckin’ way do I do this.

“Sure thing, but watch the patting down. Don’t get me excited okay? Always had a thing for crew cuts.”

It’s a waste of a good smart ass line on this guy, who doesn’t get it, but I couldn’t help it.

“Good. Yes, that’s good. Mr. Dudek’s orders.”

He knows what he’s doing and does a pretty damn good check for a wire, considering he’s got hands like bear paws. Takes my Beretta and steps away.

Then he knocks on the door twice and says in a deep voice, “Patrik, Sawyer
jest tutaj
.”

“
Wchodzą
.”

There’s a long buzzing and the door makes a heavy thwack sound.

Crew cut opens the door and stands to the side.

Patrik Dudek is sitting behind his desk and he ain’t smiling. All business. There will be no shits, grins and Belvedere this time but a half bottle of Makers Mark was in front of him. So, I mean hey, that works.

“Jerz! Come in here and drink with me.”

I smile at him and light a cigarette.

“Can’t do it, Patrik. I only drink with friends.”

“Haaa!” He stands and comes around the desk chuckling but there is no happy shit in this room.

I hold my lighter up.

“I can’t believe he let me keep this. And I want my fuckin’ gun back too. What is with this code red airport security bullshit? Am I getting on a Polskie Jet here or what?”

Patrik shakes his head back and forth, wags his finger at me.

“I mean, I’m gone a couple days and this place has turned into some kind of fortress.”

“Ah Jerz, you have always been funny. I love you for that.”

He gives me the hug and points to a chair.

“These are dangerous times, my old friend.” He looks pale and haggard.

Every time I sit down with Patrik, we seem to get stone drunk and smoke a fucking carton of cigarettes.

Except this time. This time, we sip slow and careful because there is some very serious shit that needs to be gone over. After about twenty minutes of the normal casual fluff, he gets that spooky ass look in his eyes. The look that I just can’t and won’t ever trust.

“So. Jerz. We must talk very seriously. I called you and said our timeframe is shorter than expected. We have to move even quicker than what we thought.”

“Old Viktor ain’t fucking around, huh?”

“Viktor Skansi has come to get his business back and he wants belated revenge for his son, Bogdan. He doesn’t know that you did his son, might not know you at all, but he knows
we
did it.” He stabs his chest with a finger.

“Fuck that old Russian dog and his dead son.”

“Agreed, but we’ve heard things the last few days. Things that suggest we need to act very quickly, before they get us. Before they get me. It has come to a boil. I lost two more good men last night while they were sitting in their car doing surveillance. They had been checking on who was coming and going at a tea room on Division. Some of Skansi’s top men were meeting.”

“Are they coming for you, Patrik?”

Patrik ignores my question. “Time is short. We hit him now.” He holds up his index finger. “Hit him, that is the key. The head of the snake, no?”

“So, give me this plan for tomorrow or I’ll go on my own again and whack the old fucker tonight.” I smile at him but he doesn’t smile back.

“Jerz, this is serious. This is very dangerous thing. We both could get killed tonight, tomorrow or the next day. In different ways, but we both could go down.
Rozumieją
?”

“C’mon, of course I understand. It’s me here, Patrik. I ain’t some stupid ass kid. I just hate those fuckers, that’s all.”

“As do I, my friend. But this won’t be like hitting his crazy ass son.”

“I’m a big boy, Patrik. Don’t worry about this. It’ll get done, just tell me the deal.”

He pours another couple of fingers for me and puts out his cigarette. “Okay, so then. Do you know Smith Park?

“Sure, yeah. West Side. Where they always hold the Ukrainian Festival in August. Over on Grand Avenue, couple blocks south of Chicago Av.”

“Yes. That is the place. Lots of trees, hedges and walking paths. When Viktor Skansi moved back here, we didn’t know where he was at first, but have found out he’s staying at his oldest daughter’s house on Northwestern.”

“I think I know that house, too. The one Bogdan lived in for awhile, before I shot his ass, that is.”

“Yes.”

“A few blocks away from the park.”

“Yes. Almost every evening since he got back, he goes for a walk with his wife in that park. We have watched them for two weeks. Six o’clock sharp. This time of year the sun has gone down but there is still light.”

“So that’s the where and the when, right?”

“Yes, we have decided to do this.”

“First, there is no we.
I’m
doing it. Which means, there is no
try
to it. Done deal. Count it.”

“I appreciate your confidence and tenacity, Jerz, but keep listening to what I tell you.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll shut the fuck up for a second.”

“The old man is never alone. Never. This evening walk, only fifteen minutes or so, is lightly guarded, though. I think he wants it that way. It’s an escape outside for him and he feels safe in the Ukrainian neighborhood, of course. It is our best bet for this.”

His eyes bore into me even more now.

“One man walks with them about twenty feet in front and one man walks in back about the same distance. Another man is stationed in the middle of the park at the fountain, where the walking paths meet and circle around it. Like spokes on a wheel. Small park, but many trees and shrubs.”

He lights another cigarette and keeps going. I keep quiet.

“They walk slow. They are old. The wife, she is in a wheelchair. Has been for five or six years now and she cannot stand up at all as far as we know. You will have two men at your disposal. Utilize and position them however you wish. Skansi enters from the east side of park, circles the fountain and then heads back to the car at same place he came in.” He stares at me for a second, then asks, “So, Jerz, any questions yet?”