Tumultus (28 page)

“Yes – plenty of room.  Three in back.  Three in front.”

Dublin, Reese, and Cooper settled into the backseat, and as promised, found it more than comfortable.  Bear and Mac joined Imran in the front seat, and even Bear’s massive shoulders were not too terribly cramped having to share the space with the two other men.

As Imran started up the engine, Mac couldn’t help but smile at the sound of the now long ago Detroit made V-8 engine.  Before backing out of the driveway, Imran turned on the car’s radio and smiled again as the sounds of Dean Martin singing
Volare
issued from the small in-dash speakers.

“We have our own radio station in Wilfrid!  Plays lots of Dean Martin.  The godfather loves Dean Martin.”

Traveling down the well paved roads of Wilfrid, Imran pointed out other notable parts of his newly adopted hometown.  There was a pizza parlor that delivered, a two story red brick building that was designated City Hall where in the back were parked various 1950’s era maintenance vehicles, and in the center of the town was a two acre park with benches, cobblestone walking paths, and a small water fountain.

As Imran drove further from the center of town, the residential homes were replaced by more industrial looking buildings.  A place that created clothing, another that repaired vehicles, and yet another that Imran indicated held the community’s stored food reserves.

It was adjacent to that building that Imran parked in front of another, smaller two story structure with a large neon sign on the outside that read “Godfather’s”.  A large parking lot was parallel to the building’s entrance, where some ten classic American cars were parked.

Imran pulled his car alongside the same red 1959 Thunderbird he had indicated earlier was the godfather’s personal vehicle.  Before getting out, he looked over to Mac.

“No weapons are allowed inside.  You can leave them in the locked trunk of the car.  They’ll be secure there.”

Bear was about to protest from the backseat but Mac held up his hand and nodded.

“Fine.  We’re putting our trust in you, Imran.  I hope you don’t disappoint.”

The entrance to the nightclub was a simple red door that opened to a small, well lit reception room where a tall, thin, forty-something man in a dark grey pinstriped suit stood just to the side of yet another red door.  On that door was a small white sign that read, “You’re a guest – act accordingly”.

The man next to the door nodded at Imran as the group walked into the reception room.

“Hello, Imran.  I take it you informed your guests of the no weapons policy?”

Imran shook the man’s hand and nodded.

“Yes, I personally vouch for my guests, Taylor.  We have a meeting with the godfather upstairs.”

The man, whose name the others now knew to be Taylor, offered Imran a brief smile as he opened the door into the club.

“Welcome to Godfather’s, everyone – enjoy the evening.”

As he walked through the second red door, Mac noted the metal detector that was hidden within the door frame – clearly the godfather wanted this place to be as secure as possible.

The main area of the club was a large, dimly lit room with a long, dark oak bar at the opposite end of the entrance, and several small round tables positioned in the middle of the floor.  At the north end of the room was a dance floor area and just above that, a small stage where a single microphone was placed atop a black metallic mic stand. 

There were no more than twelve or so people seated at various tables, with another few seated at the bar.  All were talking quietly as the sound of Dean Martin singing of another kick in the head was heard in the background.

A short, rotund man with a friendly, smiling face walked up to Imran and hugged him. Like Taylor in the reception room, this man too was dressed in a dark grey pinstriped suit. 

“Welcome back, Imran!  Glad you’ve made it home safely.  I see you brought your friends with you.  Hello everyone, name’s Marcini.  I’m the manager here.  Very glad to meet all of you.”

Marcini extended a thick, short fingered right hand to each one of the group and greeted them enthusiastically. He stopped briefly in front of Dublin and offered her an even warmer smile.

“Always nice to see such a beautiful woman join us here at the club.”

Dublin flashed a thin smile back to Marcini, but said nothing.

“Ok, folks, I know you have an appointment with the godfather, so please follow me this way.”

Imran and the others walked directly behind Marcini as he made his way to a narrow stairway located just to the right of the bar area.  Mac again noted the security measures taken – one camera was located in the ceiling at the bottom of the stairs, and another also in the ceiling at the very top of the stairs and in front of yet another red door.  The former Navy SEAL watched as Marcini’s eyes glanced to the first camera as he passed underneath it.

The door at the top of the stairs opened just before Marcini reached it.  Inside was a twelve by twelve sitting room that contained a dark leather couch and two matching chairs positioned around a small black glass coffee table.  The same Dean Martin song was softly playing inside this room as downstairs in the main club area.

Marcini motioned for the others to have a seat before turning to knock on a large door that was covered in the same dark leather material as the couch and chairs. 

“Please have a seat and I will be back to get you.”

Marcini disappeared behind the door as it closed behind him, followed by the faint click of a locking mechanism.

Bear, who remained standing, growled his disapproval.

“We are locked in here unarmed, waiting on this asshole for what?  To get his goddamn blessing?  His permission?  What the hell is all of this shit?”

Mac turned to Bear and held his right pointer finger up to his lips, communicating he needed to be quiet.  His eyes glanced upward toward one of the ceiling corners of the small room where yet another camera was placed.

Imran simply shook his head at Bear’s most recent words while Cooper Wyse settled into one of the large leather chairs and tilted his head back with a small smile.

“Relax, Bear…if they wanted to harm us they had plenty of opportunity to do it already.  This is all just…just part of the program here.”

Bear stepped toward the seated Cooper and jabbed a finger into the rancher’s chest.

“I don’t like being messed with – and right now, I feel like I’m being messed with.  You call it a program?  I call it a bunch of idiots pretending they’re living in a world that doesn’t exist anymore.  And I don’t care if they hear every word of what I’m saying.”

Cooper closed his eyes, the smile remaining on his face.

“That’s fine, Bear…you’re welcome to your opinion.  I’d just ask a little favor of you though.”

Bear glanced down at Cooper, who appeared on the verge of falling asleep.

“Yeah – what?”

As Cooper Wyse’s eyes opened and the smile washed away, he gave Bear a hard look that let it be known he had no fear of the larger man’s size and strength.

“Don’t ever touch me like that again Bear.  I’ve seen how strong you are…but I’ve broken far stronger animals than you.  Now I just as soon keep things respectful between us…but you try something like that again, and me and you…well…it won’t do either one of us any good.  You understanding me?”

Before Bear could respond, the door opened and Marcini re-appeared, motioning for the others to follow him.

“The godfather is ready to see you.”

XXVII.

The group was ushered into a large twenty by twenty lounge area where, on the opposite end of the room from the entrance door, sat the godfather behind a large, ornate, carved wood desk.  Upon seeing them enter the room, the godfather rose from his leather bound chair and smiled warmly, his right hand extended.

Unlike the other staff of the club, the godfather was dressed in an immaculate dark blue pinstriped suit, with a deep burgundy tie that slashed downward from the front of his cream colored dress shirt.  His feet were housed in rich dark leather shoes that were shined to a mirror like finish.

“Hello again my friends, and welcome to my home!”

In addition to Marcini, two other men dressed identically as him, were in the lounge.  One was seated atop a bar stool next to a mini-replica of the full sized bar downstairs, and the other stood in the far left corner, saying nothing as he watched the group enter the room.  The man seated was of average height, balding, with a large bushy mustache that hid his upper lip.  He was at least fifty years of age, possibly as old as sixty.

The other man standing in the corner was short and lean, very similar in build to the godfather.  His smooth shaven face and thick dark hair suggested an age of perhaps thirty.

The godfather’s handshake was brief and weak, almost limp.  Bear had to fight off the urge to squeeze the small man’s hands into a pulp inside his own.

“Please, everyone, have a seat here and here.”

The lounge area had similar matching leather couch and chairs as were placed in the sitting room, though these were larger.  Mac hesitated to sit, causing the rest of the group to remain standing as well.

The godfather, returning to his own seat behind his desk, looked at Mac and the others still standing and pointed again to the couch and chairs.

“Sit down.”

Mac made certain to get brief eye contact with the man standing in the corner of the room before nodding to the others in the group and sitting down in the chair nearest to the godfather’s desk.

Folding his hands in front of him, the godfather again smiled as he leaned forward slightly in his chair.

“Can I offer you a drink?  A glass of wine?  Bourbon?  Whatever you want – we got it.  And if we don’t have it…we’ll go out and get it.  That’s what we do.”

Mac remained silent, signaling for the others to do the same.

Imran, sensing the awkward pause, attempted to begin the discussion of the group’s hopes of securing safe passage to Manitoba on the Russian’s train.

“Godfather, my friends from Alaska are very much hoping to obtain uh…transport of themselves to Manitoba on the train.  They would like your help in setting up that transport.”

Leaning back in his chair, the godfather glanced over at the man seated at the bar, and then nodded toward Marcini who stood just to the right of Mac.

“Marcini, our guests have…refused my offer of drink.  Imran should know better but the others…I’ll forgive the insult.  For now.  Bring in a bottle of the Seghesio – the 2008.  And some glasses, Marcini – don’t forget the glasses.”

As Marcini left the room, the godfather looked back at the group seated in front of him.

“Red wine, good for the heart.  Good for the soul.  You know that, right?”

Dublin decided to find common ground with the godfather as a means of improving their chances of securing the use of the train for passage to Manitoba.

“Yes, my grandfather loved wine.  His family owned a vineyard in France for some time.  He had quite a collection.  Even in Dominatus, he had some wonderful examples.”

The godfather’s dark, flinty eyes settled fully on Dublin, remaining there until she looked away.

“That’s right…you’re Dublin Meyer.  Grandchild of Alexander Meyer.  Your grandfather was a very rich man.  Doubt my own wine collection can stack up to his, Ms. Meyer.  I’m not the child of vineyard owning parents you see.  Just a kid from Steubenville Ohio, home of Dean Martin, God rest his smooth singing, wine drinkin’ soul!”