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For a very long moment I waited to see if the young Corsican was going to stick to our hastily agreed upon plan or if he was going to go for his pistol. I breathed slowly and held his foot while he made up his mind, hoping I could jerk him off the bucket fast enough if he decided to start shooting. Through gritted teeth, though, he nodded.
I found the pack of Marlboros and offered him one. He took it and began to search through his pockets until Max flicked a disposable lighter to life. Lanzo stuck the tip of the cigarette into the flame and inhaled deeply, nodding more emphatically as he did. I let him get whatever enjoyment he could out of that then asked, “So what are you going to say to her?”
Lanzo watched me, one eye closed against the smoke of his cigarette, and I watched Max for any reaction out of the corner of my eye. Now that Lanzo was saying he was onboard, Max seemed to have lost the enthusiasm he had displayed for the kidnapping when we had discussed it in the alley. He sulked behind his friend and I couldn’t tell who he was more disappointed in.
Exhaling smoke, Lanzo said, “We talked about leaving. For Corsica or maybe Italy.” I seriously doubted that would be far enough to get away from Mitnick, but I kept my mouth shut. He flicked ash, perhaps considering his own self-worth, “If I write to her and tell her we should go, she might come out.” As if his reflection didn’t leave a lot of room for the idea that Nika might love him, he added, “She is unhappy where she is.”
As Lanzo gazed at the floor, I glanced up at Max, raising my eyebrows to indicate progress being made. Then I spoke to everyone. “OK. So you tell her you’ve picked up some money, enough to make a run for it. That you have family in Corsica that’s willing to hide you. We get her the note, with a time and a place to meet us close by. And we grab her.” Lanzo shot up a glance at the last words but I squeezed his foot and he kept silent.
I wasn’t done with Lanzo’s wound yet, so I resisted the urge to wipe the blood off my hands. “You write the note.” I watched both men, not specifying which, waiting for either to nod to confirm they were literate. Both did, so I continued, “I’ve been in Mitnick’s house before, so I’ll figure out a way to get it to her.” Even as I said that, I realized I had no idea how I was going to do that.
Whatever consternation that thought might have brought to my face was covered by the exit opening behind me and bright sunlight pouring into the room. Lanzo and Max blinked it away as Fatty and the Algerian stepped in. No one said much while everyone adjusted to the swift changes in light. When we all had, Max had remembered this was his idea and he grinned wickedly at his two standing compatriots. “Lanzo has agreed.”
The other two beamed back, smiles bright enough to dispel the dim, but only causing clouds to gather over Lanzo. To him, this was only confirmation his friends had been in their conspiracy together all along. Before that broiled over I snatched the white plastic box that was dangling from Fatty’s fingertips. He glared at me, but I ignored it, pleased at the red cross on the cover. I didn’t ask for my change, which probably helped keep the peace.
I was impressed at the robust contents of the small first aid kit – there were the adhesive sutures I needed, plus some sterilizing agent, bandaids, and a wrap. I went to work on Lanzo’s wounded foot as Max caught the Idiots up to speed, speaking in quiet, indecipherable French. I spent the time being grateful for the Corps’ basic combat medicine training.
I let them talk as I disinfected Lanzo’s foot, listening to the changes in his breathing for indicators that I was being too rough. When I was satisfied he wouldn’t die of an infection before this whole caper got us killed I closed the wound with the plastic sutures. While Max and the Idiots generally muttered to themselves, I interjected with, “We don’t know how valuable she is to Mitnick so there will be some negotiations.” I stopped my examination to see all of them staring at me dumbly. When no one drew a useful conclusion I added, “It might take awhile.”
Max smiled wide, some pride coming through as if he had thought of that. “Oui. We are thinking ahead, yes? We are, like The Godfather, going to the mattresses?”
Hiding out? That wasn’t a bad plan, but not what I had in mind. “It’s good that you’ve been staying out of sight. But,” I added a long pause, deliberately scanning the room and the trash of its contents. “You’re not going to hide her here, are you?”
This question brought even Lanzo out of the pained hypnosis of his foot. The Idiots followed my gaze around at the dank halls of the hutch, a slow embarrassment sprouting on their faces like algae. Impatience caused me to sigh and state the conclusion they were reluctantly heading towards. “She lives in a mansion, boys. If you try to hide her here, she’ll run back to Mitnick.”
While Fatty and his tall friend began to come to this understanding, Max attempted to dismiss it with a, “A princess can hide in the swamp for a time.”
Lanzo finally spoke beyond the grunting and monosyllables that he had employed thus far. Perhaps finding an outlet for his anger, he swiveled on the bucket to glare at Max. “Do you want this to work or not, idiot? If we bring her here she’ll murder us in our sleep.” His tone in the last statement sounded as if she’d be justified in that. Perhaps he’d help.
Whether it was from his guilt or simple recognition of the truth, Max held up his hands and acquiesced to the anger in his friend. “We will find someplace to take her.”
Lanzo returned to facing me and I handed him his boot back. “Get up, test your weight on it.” Lanzo rose from the bucket and moved his weight from one foot to the next. He seemed pleased at the results, even giving a tiny hop back and forth, demonstrating the quality of my work.
I stood, my head nearly brushing the ceiling of the tiny hutch. “OK, that’s great. But now that business is settled you need to get to a real doctor.” I took out a note that I had prepared before, scribbled with the mobile’s phone number. I handed it to Max. “If you need to get ahold of me, call that number.” Max took it, the other two Idiots crowding behind him, trying to peek at its contents as if it were a note I had snuck him in class. I waited for them to finish staring and when they didn’t, in a weird echo of Rotella, I asked, “And how do I get ahold of you?”
Max leapt at the question and produced his own mobile, a burner that was about as smart as its owner. I stared at the phone, unsure if he was expecting me to somehow psychically link with it. Again, I let a few moments pass, then asked, “What’s the number?”
If it weren’t for the dim of the room I would have thought Max blushed with embarrassment. He slapped Fatty’s shoulder and the other two Idiots jumped and began rummaging around. As if to protect himself from this stupidity, Lanzo floated behind me, moving closer to the door. I could feel him watch his compatriots scramble around the room, poisoning his corner with a contempt I could sense growing there.
The Algerian was the one to come up with a scrap of paper and a capless ballpoint pen. I took both and scribbled down the number Max gave me. Finished, still in between the Idiots and Lanzo, I glanced at the Algerian as if seeing him for the first time. “What’s your name?”
There was a hesitation on his part, which showed maybe he was smarter than I supposed, but when the silence in the room stretched on, he answered, “Jamal.”
“Jamal,” I repeated, then added, “means handsome.” I took a moment to study his aquiline nose and thin features. “It’s a good name for you.” He blinked, the translation working its way through his brain, changing his features as it did, his face moving from confusion to doubt, then resolving to an uncertain chuckle as he decided I wasn’t ridiculing him.
I turned to the rest, all equally confused by the exchange. I used that silence to make sure everyone understood their roles going forward. To Max, I said, “You figure out where we’re going to hide the princess.” To Lanzo, “Get that letter written. Make it short,” I smiled, feeling like a shark rather than a Romeo, “but sweet.”
I moved to leave. “I’ll be in touch.” I was surprised to hear Lanzo move to follow.
I stopped at the door, though, when I heard Max hold Lanzo up. “You want to head to The Factory? We could get cleaned up, find some fun, celebrate?”
Lanzo pulled his arm away from Max. “I must see a doctor, yes? Then there is work to be done.”
Max nodded, the dim of the room nearly hiding his disappointment. I exited before the awkwardness of that situation developed its own inertia, still mildly surprised when Lanzo pulled up behind me.
I trundled up the hill, wishing I had one of Simon’s espressos or some better idea of where I was going. After we had gotten away from the hut by a few switchbacks I heard Lanzo ask, “What do we do now?”
I didn’t look back to answer him. “We do what we said we’d do – we get Nika out, and you two get the Hell out of town.”
There was a long silence that I found an inexplicable desire to fill, perhaps wanting to supplant the disappointment, fear, and betrayal that Lanzo was practically sweating out as we continued our climb. The only thing he said, though, was, “Do I truly need to go to hospital?”
I shrugged. “That’s up to you. The sutures will dissolve in a week or so. If you keep it clean, you should be fine by then. Seeing a doctor wouldn’t be a bad idea, though.” I stopped to stare up the slope, unable to see the town from here, not sure what was waiting on the other side of the bollards. “But I could be wrong.”
It was beginning to get dark, the last light of the day cascading down the slope. I don’t know what soft spot caused me to, but I asked, “You got a place to stay?”
He nodded and I took a guess. “Your uncle’s?” He nodded again. “OK. Let’s get you there.”
To read the next chapter, go here.
To read the previous chapter, go here.
To read a polished and published prequel to this story go here.
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