Whatever internal struggle stormed inside Mitnick he locked it away into his internal autoclave as quickly and expertly as I expected of him. He smiled at me, indicating he was pleased I had brought this to him. “Thank you. This may be useful.”
I replied with a, “Sure,” and watched Mitnick, wondering if he might say something more. He didn’t, instead gesturing Brick over, who made his way around the balcony with surprising speed. Smiling again, he said a few quick words in Russian to his man who produced a bundle of Euros. Mitnick parsed most of these out and handed the roll to me. I took it and he grasped my hand in between his own, pulling on me so I looked him in the eye. “I had not expected you to come forward with anything so useful with such speed.” Keeping one hand on mine, he used the other to wag a finger at me again, “I knew I had a good feeling about you.”
He let go of my hand and I mumbled a thank you, feeling myself color at the approval and hating myself a little for it. Mitnick reached into his pocket to pull out his cigarettes, fishing for one as he asked, “Do you like to gamble?”
“Sometimes,” I lied. I didn’t enjoy gambling. I understood the principals enough to know most games were stacked against you and when they weren’t they required patience and focus, things I preferred not to waste on money.
“There is a game of men in the back, locals like you but not like you, living here but of a different stripe.” He pointed to the roll of cash with a puckish grin, “Now you can join them if you wish. Dur,” he indicated Brick, “can show you the way.”
“Thanks,” I hefted the cash, making a show of getting accustom to the idea of having money. “I think I’ll see if I can’t find a drink and a woman first.”
Mitnick made an affirmative noise, pleased I was getting into the spirit of things. While he might claim to admire my khladnokrovnyy, I think there was a part of him that didn’t trust anyone he couldn’t corrupt. “Good for you. I must speak with Dur.” He patted me on the shoulder again and sent me on my way by pointing me down the same stiars way the Frenchman had left by. Opposite of them, there was another individual already waiting in the wings for their moment of audience, but I saw they weren’t brought forward. Instead, at the top of the stairs, I looked back to see Mitnick whispering furtively to Brick, who quickly departed.
I made my way down the stairs, more than one step at a time when I was certain I was out of sight of Brick and Mitnick. Embellishing Rotella’s investigation into Mitnick had clearly struck a nerve and I wanted to see the reaction. I pushed passed people still gathered around the inside fountain and towards the exit underneath the stairs in the hopes I might see something interesting. Entering into the room I had just been standing above, I stepped behind one of the tall, potted conifers that flanked the door. It wasn’t much of a hiding spot, so I flagged one of the wait staff down for a drink and tried to look casual.
From down here you could see exactly what Mitnick was doing – holding court. All the little people could see those that came to petition or discuss or plan with the big boss, but couldn’t actually hear anything. And him being up there made it pretty clear whose house this was and who was providing the booze and whatever else passed for entertainment. It made him appear both mysterious and beneficent.
This was only added to by Brick escorting a young lady up to his lordship. She was young, couldn’t have been much older than 20, with startlingly black hair that somehow you knew wasn’t from a dye job. Her mane sat atop a bone structure that was both sharp and fine. Her pallor suggested she didn’t get outside much, if at all. As she approached Mitnick, her eyes were cast down as if she were a petulant child, putting much of her hair over her face, preventing me from getting a good look at it.
Mitnick spoke to her with very little gesture, but it was clear the words were sharp and abrupt, no cushioning or welcoming around what he had to say. The girl responded with very little, if anything in return, only seeming to become smaller as Mitnick spoke. This continued for a few moments until she put a defiant foot towards him and raised her head, replying in what were quite obviously her own harsh language.
Mitnick raised a hand, either out of exasperation or threatened violence, and it was enough to end the conversation. He gestured to Brick who, with a surprising gentleness, took the girl by the elbow and guided her away. I watched Mitnick lean on the balustrade and seeth. After a few minutes of this Whip appeared. The younger man stood practically at attention, listening seriously to what Mitnick had to say. Whatever it was, it must have been more important than fetching prostitutes for slumming locals, because Mitnick either faced away from the balcony or covered his mouth while speaking. He wasn’t taking any chances on someone down below understanding him. This didn’t go on too long before Whip nodded and turned on his heels to leave.
A moment later Mitnick shook off this disposition and his smile, wide and bright even from the first floor, came back out. His next petitioner was a stolid Dutchman with a nose that came around the railing before he did. Mitnick greeted him with warmth and grace that would have seemed genuine if I didn’t know just how angry he was.
Down below I kept watching, but puzzled over the new information. Was the young brunette the Corsican’s mystery girl? Hinting at her before hadn’t elicited a very strong reaction, but bringing up her and Sergei in the same breathe had pushed a button.
I was suddenly glad that Sophie, wherever she might be, wasn’t with me. I’m not sure I could have kept her from charging up the stairs to find answers.
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