Tumultus (29 page)

Dublin looked back at the godfather, whose unsmiling eyes remained locked on her.

“I’m sure your wine will be just fine.  And thank you for offering it to us.”

The godfather’s smile returned as his hands clapped lightly together several times.

“And thank you for showing some good manners, Ms. Meyer.  Normally when I offer people something, they at least thank me for the privilege.  It took you a while to get there, but get there you did.”

It wasn’t Bear who spoke out against the godfather’s words, but Reese, who had been intently watching the godfather staring at Dublin for the last few minutes.

“We have done nothing but offer up good manners, sir.  We were brought here as guests.  And if you don’t mind, I’d like you stop staring at Dublin like that, because it’s really starting to piss me off.”

The godfather’s eyes remained on Dublin as he spoke to the man seated on the bar stool, his voice rising in volume with each word.

“Do you hear that, Johnny?  I’m being told what to do in my own house.  And these are the same people who then want me to trouble myself with getting them the use of my train!”

Cooper Wyse, who had sat silently on the right corner of the couch, shook his head.”

“That’s not your train – it’s the Russian’s train.  Everyone knows that.  He found it. He repaired it.  He’s the only one who knows how to run it.  Without him, your little oasis of lost Americana dries up and blows away.  That’s if the Muslims don’t come in and cut your throats first.”

The eyes of the man standing in the corner widened as he looked back at Cooper with clear malice, taking a step toward the seated rancher.  The godfather held up a hand, signaling for the man to remain where he was.

“That’s my son, Ricky.  He’s not used to hearing people speak to me that way, Mr. Wyse.  You think you could handle my son being upset with you?”

Cooper glanced over at the godfather’s son, whose eyes remained livid with rage, and then looked back at the godfather.

“I like my chances.”

Marcini returned to the room carrying a wine bottle and some glasses, which he laid out on the mini bar’s table.

“Open it up and let it breathe Marcini.  Don’t pour it for another…ten minutes.

“Yes godfather.”

The godfather looked back at Imran and spread his hands outward.

“So what now, Imran?  Is this it?  You want me to help you convince the Russian to take you halfway across Canada to Manitoba?  And for what?  So you can see some French priest who says he has a weapon that can harm the New United Nations?  Is that good business?  I lose all that time with no train deliveries to or from Wilfrid.  That make sense to you?”

Imran offered a wide smile of understanding toward the godfather’s concerns.

“Yes, of course you should be compensated godfather.  I could offer you several deliveries for free perhaps?  To make up for the loss of use of the train?”

The godfather shook his head slowly.

“You don’t deliver near enough in that truck of yours to equal the use of the train Imran.”

“How about because it’s the right thing to do?”

Mac’s statement hung in the air, as the godfather again folded his hands in front of him and placed them on top of his desk.

“Mr. Walker, perhaps you were accustomed to talking that way in Dominatus, but here, in MY HOUSE, you will afford me the respect and courtesy I deserve.”

Mac rose from his chair and looked down at the godfather.

“If I gave you the respect you deserved, you’d be a mess of a stain on the wall by now.  We’re fighting to free people, you dumb little phony ass prick.  We ain’t pretending out there in the real world.  We’re trying to survive.  You understand?  You think you’re safe playing 1950’s?  They’ll come for you, just like they came for us.  Just like they come for everybody, eventually.  You heard the same thing I have – Muslims are planning on running all over this place on their way into Alaska.  I’m willing to bet the drones won’t be far behind.  If you really care about saving this place…about the people you say you’re protecting, you’ll help us out, and if you won’t help us out then to hell with you.  We’ll do it ourselves.  Someway, somehow, we’ll manage.  We always do.”

It was the godfather’s turn to rise from his chair, motioning for his son Ricky to move toward Mac.

“You’re an old man, Mr. Walker.  Older than me.  Old enough that your tough guy mentality doesn’t fit into an old man’s body.  That doesn’t excuse bad manners though, and frankly, when you come in here and talk to me like that, you leave me no choice but to make an example of you.  As much as I don’t wish to be a poor host, I can’t have people believing I would allow such behavior to go unpunished.”

Ricky held a gun now pointed inches from Mac’s head.

Imran attempted to step between Mac and the godfather’s son.

“No!  Godfather, please, this is not necessary!  These are good people.  They are attempting to do something brave and noble!  Please, don’t do this!”

The godfather waved away Imran’s concerns.

“I’m not gonna kill him Imran – just teach him some manners.  You need to keep quiet or I might decide you need the same lesson.”

Cooper Wyse, who remained seated, placed his hands behind his head while leaning back in the chair.

“How about a wager?  I hear you’re a betting man.  That right?”

The godfather glanced at his son, and then looked down at Cooper.

“I do enjoy a good bet Mr. Wyse.  Yes indeed.  What are you proposing?”

Cooper nodded at Mac.

“You say Mac, there, he’s an old man, right?  How about you put up your toughest guy against Mac?  Hand to hand.  One old man against whoever you got.  You can let everyone in the bar watch.  Give them a free show.  It’ll be good for business.  Have ‘em go at it on the dance floor.  If Mac loses, well…you’ve just taught him that lesson.  Now if Mac wins, though…you owe us that train ride.”

The godfather looked genuinely interested in what Cooper offered.  He signaled for his son to put his gun down and step back from Mac.

“You open to what your friend here is proposing, Mr. Walker?”

Mac’s eyes flashed back at the godfather as he nodded.

“Sure – as long as you’re a man of your word.  I win, we get that train ride.”

The godfather waved a finger back at Mac.

“If you win, and that is a very unlikely if…I will consider that train ride, which is a far better place to negotiate from than you are currently.   Marcini, prepare the area for the fight.  Let Santos know he’s up.”

Imran looked at the godfather with horror.

“Not Santos…please godfather.  That’s not fair!”

The godfather smiled back at Imran, pointing over to Cooper as he did so.

“I didn’t make the suggestion Imran – he did.  Mr .Walker has agreed to the terms.  Now if you don’t mind, I suggest we have some of that wine Marcini so kindly opened for us.”

The godfather personally poured the wine into several glasses and placed them in front of his guests.  Mac was the only one to pick up a glass, emptying it with one gulp.

“Not bad.  I’ll take another.”

The godfather’s eyebrows raised, as his head cocked to the right slightly.

“You sure you want to be doing that, Mr. Walker?  A clear head may be your only chance of victory.”

Mac snorted back at the godfather.

“Shit – I may be old, but I’ve handled far tougher than anything or anyone you have in this place.”

The godfather gave Mac a second glass.

“Oh, I have been told you were a tough man once, Mr. Walker, but it would appear that time came and went long ago.  Now you’re like me, a shadow of what you once were, whose fighting is better left to others.”

Mac finished off his second glass of wine.

“Another.”

Bear touched Mac’s shoulder, concerned for his friend’s safety.

“Hey, Mac, maybe you want to lay off the drinks, and let me stand in for you.”

The godfather shook his head at Bear while placing another glass of wine in Mac’s hand.

“That’s not the deal we struck.  Mac is to be the one who takes on my man.  The odds favor me, which is why I took the bet.  Now if everyone could make their way downstairs, we’ll prepare for the show!”

Mac and the others were escorted to the main room of the nightclub, which now held many more people than when they had arrived earlier.  Marcini instructed them to sit around a table and wait for his return.

Mac appeared unconcerned at the challenge that awaited him.  Imran on the other hand, was clearly upset. 

“This is a very bad idea.  Santos is a monster!  He’s almost as big as Bear, and he’s younger!  Maybe even stronger!  I’ve seen him throw people out of here three at a time!”

Mac looked over at Imran and told him to shut up, which in turn caused Bear to start laughing.

“This is just like that time in Dominatus, Mac!  You and August Hess.”

Mac shook his head.

“Not quite – I felt a whole lot younger then.”

The godfather had stepped to the small stage to address the hundred or so people who were packed inside the night club. 

“Ladies and gentleman I am so happy to be able to introduce you to some friends of ours from across the ice fields of Alaska.  And not just any Alaskans mind you – some of the actual survivors of Dominatus!  In fact, the gentleman who gave the radio address we all listened to as the drones were dropping bombs on top of them, is among the group!  Please, Mr. Reese Neeson, could you stand up and give a wave to the audience?  Go ahead, stand up, Mr. Neeson.”

Reese stood up slowly while briefly waving at the people around him, many of whom were clapping for him.

“Thank you, Reese – wonderful to have you here with us all tonight.  Now in addition to Mr. Neeson, we also have the gentleman who provided security for Dominatus for many-many years.  His name is Mr. Mac Walker and I would like everyone to give him a round of applause as well.”

Mac stood up and nodded, and then sat back down.

“Now folks, we have a very special treat for you tonight.  Mr. Walker is something of a legend in Alaska, known for being among the toughest men you’ll find in that part of the world.  So tough in fact, he is confident he can handle our own toughest in Wilfrid, even at Mr. Walker’s advanced age, which I’ll remind him, and all you – is even older than yours truly!  That’s right ladies and gentlemen – that old man who just stood up, has made a personal wager with me that he can best our own Santos in hand to hand combat!  Unbelievable!  I know – unbelievable!” 

People were turning to look back at Mac, some pointing, shaking their heads, and laughing.

Bear glared back at them, livid.

“What a bunch of assholes.”

The godfather was pointing to the left of the stage at someone.

“Hello there, Santos!  Are you ready to introduce yourself to Mr. Walker sitting over there?”

Santos lived up to the hype the godfather had delivered.  Standing nearly as tall as Bear, though perhaps slightly leaner, he looked every bit the warrior.  Not quite yet thirty years old, his dark hair was cut short in the crew cut style of the godfather’s beloved 1950’s. Deep set dark eyes peered out from a prominent brow, while his mouth was framed in a square jaw that looked to be chiseled from stone.  His thick neck sat atop very wide, muscular shoulders that appeared ready to burst from his black, v-neck t-shirt.