“Levi,” I bark. Derrick, still slumped on the floor where I left him, twitches but doesn’t look up.”
“Yes, Angelo?” Levi answers, confused. “Let’s go, man. Giuseppe will be waiting.”
I hold out a hand. “Let me see the money.”
Levi’s face is twisted with bewilderment, but he reaches into his pocket and retrieves the cash he took from under Derrick’s mattress. I count it out, then divide it into two equal piles. I tuck one into my pocket and hand the rest to Levi.
Fixing him with a stare, I say, “I want you to explain to the woman, quietly, that she can keep this for herself. Tell her to hide it from this scumbag. Tell her, if she’s smart, she’ll use it to get a motel for the night and never come back here again. Okay?”
I turn and walk down the hall before Levi has the chance to reply. I don’t want to hear anything that anyone has to say. I can barely stomach my own softness. Since when do I show mercy to the downtrodden wives of leeches like Derrick Salsworthy?
Pathetic.
We leave the apartment and head down to the car. It’s difficult to know what to feel about everything that just happened.
So I choose instead to feel nothing.
Giuseppe is waiting for us in the car when we come out. Levi and I climb into the back seat, and we pull away into the night.
“Everything go okay?” I ask Giuseppe.
I can see him nod in the rearview mirror. “That old lady is two hundred dollars richer and won’t say a damn word to nobody, boss,” he replies.
“Good.”
That is done with, then. Time for errand #2.
When we reach our destination, we pull up outside the docks and climb out. Giuseppe flashes his high beams twice. On cue, the Albanian car pulls out of the darkness. The door opens. Levi and I exchange a look before we get out of our car and climb inside theirs.
This is the real business of the night. The driver takes us to the very dock edge where the shipment is being unloaded: raw materials to be used in our cook houses all throughout the city. It’s easier and cheaper than importing drugs wholesale.
Dujar Gjoka is waiting for us at the water’s edge. Levi sometimes calls him the Eggman, on account of how his body looks like a series of eggs stacked on top of each other: bulbous legs, bulbous arms, a round body with no neck, and a chunky head. He has a bad comb-over and must be at least sixty. His disdainful beady eyes tell me just what he thinks of dealing with a twenty-seven-year-old man like me. If he wasn’t the leader of the Albanian Mafia, I would drown him in these waters without thinking twice about it.
We shake hands.
“Angelo, it’s a pleasure. I do hope your father is keeping well.”
Of course the first thing he’d mention is my father: just to really drive the point home that he wishes he was dealing with him instead. “Yes, thank you. And your family is still in Albania, right?”
He nods. “I do miss them, but it’s better that way. Getting my wife to leave our estate—ah! It’s like trying to tempt a pig from shit. But don’t tell her I said that, eh? I fear she won’t like the comparison.”
“No, probably not,” I say, hating this bullshit small talk. But I can hear my father’s voice in my head: strike first with diplomacy, son. The olive branch is stronger than the sword. So I stick with the niceties—for now.
“Now, shall we get down to business?”
I gesture at the trucks being unloaded. “Unless anything’s changed, I’ll have my men load the crates and we’ll be on our way.”
“But that is just it, Angelo. Something has changed.”
I resist the urge to clench my fists and somehow keep myself completely still. The way he says it—something has changed—it’s like he’s almost pleased. Like he relishes playing games with me.
“Tell me more, Dujar. I’m all ears.”
“There has been a problem,” he says. Suddenly, I’m aware of the Albanians surrounding us. There are at least ten of them, all with Kalashnikovs, all wearing leather, all looking ready to kill. “We lost a portion of the shipment to the ocean. Ah, the mercies of fate. And our cost for supply has gone up.”
“Dujar,” I say, “it sounds like you’re about to tell me that you need us to pay more for less.”