I ignored Sophie’s warning even as the room filled with Russians bristled. I quickly returned to biggest of them, a bruiser with prominent ears, resolving my features into an embarrassed smile, continuing to play the moron, but one that had caught on. Seeing my features finally arrange themselves into some manner of intelligence, Ears put a hand on my shoulder to firmly guide me back to the exit. Knowing I shouldn’t, I couldn’t help but shrug his hand off. A moment boiled between me and him, supercharging the room. Feeling brittle as a China plate I gave him a smile and said, “Sure, yeah, I’ll go look for him.”
I quickly walked out. I looked over my shoulder to see him smiling like a predator through the crack between door and jamb before he firmly closed the door behind me. I felt my skin burn with an ancient kind of humiliation as the tension defused into chattering sounds on the other side of the door.
With nothing better to do I followed Ears’ instructions. Lost as I was at least it might take me back outside where the house was easier to navigate. Following along in the silent hallway I could hear the party out somewhere in the house, a steady throb that was translating into dull ache behind my eyes. After half-a-dozen turns through the mansion’s inner labyrinth, I was glad it wasn’t any closer to the festivities as I came to an external door. I stepped through it, causing some security apparatus to beep at the shell of the house being momentarily broken, probably alerting someone, somewhere. I was just grateful it didn’t sound a full-fledged alarm.
I stepped out onto a green, grassy veranda, covered by a lattice of white woodwork supported by a grid of more Grecian pillars, these ones small and numerous. The moonlight filtered through the vines that sparsely grew through the framework overhead and I could hear the surf pounding against the cliffside that Mitnick’s house rested not far from. I walked towards that, feeling the gentle wind cool the skin on my face, the moon’s light almost cleansing. Breathing deep, regaining my balance I began to think about what I might do next. If there had been any doubt that Sergei had at least been known to Mitnick’s crew, their reaction had 86’ed that. But why were they so reluctant to admit he existed? Even the instructions out to here weren’t an admission of that, just a way to get an idiot out of the way. If a comrade was missing, why didn’t they have questions for me? That left only a few conclusions.
I hardly noticed the beep from the door, naval gazing as I was, trying to puzzle things out. As it was I barely got myself turned around in time to block the first punch and only partially at that. It was like deflecting a Christmas ham. The Bruiser from the other room was there and he didn’t let that stop him, swinging with his other fist, catching me in the ribs. I might have been able to do something about it, but his two friends swarmed in from the sides, kicking and punching, sending me down. It just became a confusion of shadows after that, them never letting up, punctuating the air with blows. Somewhere in there was enough to disengage my brain and the night didn’t even have moonlight anymore.
To read the next chapter, go here.
To read the previous chapter, go here.
See the author’s published work here.
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