and I will be your servers tonight. I’ve been told this is a special occasion,” he said with a friendly smile.
“Yes, yes it’s a very special night,” Jorge said with a flick of his hand. He didn’t meet Green’s eyes, feeling the waiter way below his social status with no need to be polite or inclusive. That worked for the team. They were unseen to these people, just as they were in many missions, just as they wanted it to be. “It’s my beautiful wife’s birthday and she loves this little place. Anything she wants she gets, and this is where she wants to eat.”
“Happy birthday. I hope we help to make it special,” Green said.
“Thank you,” Jorge’s wife said, her smile bright as she looked Green directly in the eyes. She hadn’t been hardened by life like the rest of this group of thugs. There was purity in her eyes that shocked Green — and not much did that these days. The team didn’t know how involved the wife was in all of this, but from first impressions, Green was thinking she knew nothing of the underworld her husband and his thugs were a part of.
Green proceeded as any other waiter would in the next twenty minutes, taking orders, delivering drinks and appetizers, and offering friendly words that didn’t interrupt the groups conversation. He bided his time before the first part of the mission truly began. And right from the start, they had a problem.
The first operational hiccup came when Jorge purchased three bottles of a 2016 Domaine Romanee Conti La Tache in the 750ml bottle. The restaurant price for a single bottle was eighty-five hundred dollars. The problem was that the bottles would stay at the table.
The team, however, were more than capable of adapting to changes. It would take some work, and a very careful sleight of hand, but Green would get the needed liquid into Jorge’s glass.
As the evening progressed with the staff preparing Michelin-star food, the group became more relaxed with stories flowing and levity at a high. Even Muscleman, who hadn’t moved from his position against the wall, grew more relaxed, especially as one of the tables of diners finished and exited.
Green moved up to the table as the appetizers dwindled. “May I refill any drinks?” he asked. Several of the people nodded as they moved their glasses to the edge of the table.
“There’s no need to ask. If my glass is nearing empty, keep on filling it,” Jorge said with a smug smile, still not meeting Green’s eyes. Lucky for their team Jorge truly felt he was a king and liked his humble servants waiting on him.
“Of course, sir,” Green replied, keeping his expression neutral. He had a vile taped to his palm as he lifted the wine bottle and filled Jorge’s glass with the liquid dripping into the glass unnoticed. He then slipped the vile into his apron pocket before continuing around the table to fill the rest of the diner’s glasses.
On cue, the appetizer plates were taken away, and soups and salads were placed in front of each person as the conversation continued, no one suspicious of anything. Green didn’t even blink when Jorge next spoke.
“Server,” Jorge called across the room, making Green turn. “Where’s the bathroom?” The urgency in the man’s tone let the team know their plans were on track. Jorge stood and Muscleman came to attention.
“It’s at the back of the restaurant to the right,” Green said while slipping a hand inside his pocket and clicking a key fob with a single button on it. That push caused a miniature EMP that cut off all life to the cell phones in the room.
“Stay,” Jorge said to Muscleman, who looked unhappy to let his boss go into another room before he cleared it, but had been trained well and didn’t argue.
Perfectly synchronized, as soon as Jorge rounded the corner to the bathroom, Smoke stepped through the front doors of the restaurant. His clothes were stained and torn, his pants too short, and his shirt three sizes too big. Even his shoes didn’t match. His makeup had aged him at least fifteen years — making him appear the perfect homeless drunk.
Smoke staggered over to Eyes’s table and mumbled several incoherent words as he begged for spare change and some food. Eyes didn’t turn to acknowledge Smoke as he took another bite of his pasta primavera.
“Hey man, I just need a little food,” Smoke cried out more clearly.
Eyes didn’t reply.
The table