Part 20 (2/2)
”Come now, Dagger,” Kubikov said, impatiently. ”I no want to kill you. I am businessman. I come to country to live American dream just like you, big film star. Just give me my doc.u.ments.”
”I don't have doc.u.ments. How would I get your doc.u.ments?”
”Good question. I wonder same thing.”
”I think you've mistaken me for someone else,” Ross said.
”Come now, Dagger. Just give what you owe me. Give back what you take. No hard feelings. I get my American dream and you get your American dream. Everybody happy. I think fair, don't you?”
”Exceedingly fair,” Ross said to the mobster before leaning toward Mo. ”I think we need to get out of here now. It seems to me we've found out about all we can without being killed.”
”Yeah, let's see what we can do,” Mo whispered back. ”Be ready to drop to the floor.”
”What are you going to do, Mo?”
”Hopefully create a distraction.”
”You have discussed enough,” Kubikov said. ”Now give.”
”Could we order drinks first?” Mo asked as loudly as she could. ”I know Stephen Dagger appreciates his fans.”
Kubikov's eyes widened when she hopped up on the bench. ”Hey, y'all, Stephen Dagger is buying drinks and signing autographs for the first twenty fans to get themselves over to his table.”
Mo's words acted like a starter's pistol. And whether brought on by the promise of free booze or by the precious signatures, a melee of people rushed the table. Kubikov and his henchmen turned as one to confront the crowd. Unnoticed, Mo and Ross dropped to the floor and then crawled through the forest of legs.
In the treetops above them, insults and warnings screeched out. Gla.s.ses spilled and punches were thrown. Gla.s.s broke. Bodies were pushed, pulled, pounded. Beer, chicken wings, cheese covered nachos-and indeterminate substances-fell from the treetops onto their heads and backs. Mo and Ross reached a clear s.p.a.ce and then leapt up.
As they sprinted for the door, a voice came from behind them. ”Where is Stephen Dagger? He owes me a drink.”
Mo and Ross rounded the half-wall. The bouncer they'd encountered earlier remained at his post, blocking their path.
”What's going on in there?” the bouncer asked.
”There are some drunks demanding free drinks,” Mo answered. ”You better go in and help calm them down.”
”Again?” The bouncer headed into the club's interior.
Mo grabbed Ross's hand and they ran for the door. Even in the parking lot, she didn't look back. Not until they were in the Mercedes and driving away, did she give a sigh of relief. When she glanced in the side mirror, she didn't see anyone emerge from the club.
”I don't see anyone behind us,” Ross said.
”I don't either. We aren't being followed. That's a good sign isn't it?”
”I see nothing good about this situation.”
Neither did Mo.
Chapter Twelve.
Clarence slammed his apartment door shut behind him and leaned against it, catching his breath. According to Mo, Kubikov hadn't paid. Worse, his goons might have seen Clarence while he had been staking out her house. They might be out front waiting for him right now.
Crossing to the closet, he took the phone from his pocket and punched in his girl's number. He grabbed the suitcase from the floor, threw it on the bed, and opened the top.
”Baby,” he said when she answered. ”I'm leaving town. Can you meet me here in thirty?” He nabbed an armful of clothes-hangers and all-and shoved them into the case.
”Do you have the money?” she asked.
Pausing, Clarence winced. ”No,” he said in a whisper. ”He didn't pay. He just sent his goons to ransack the drop point.”
”Then what are you calling for?” she demanded. ”We need that half mil to make a new life. I can't get the money on my own or I would.”
”We can leave town and start over anywhere,” he urged. ”We can do without the money.”
”Start over with nothing? Are you kidding? You're as useless as my husband,” she said, her voice shrill. After a moment, she asked, ”Is Kubikov onto you?”
Yes, he thought. ”No,” he answered.
”That's something good at least,” she replied.
”Will you come over?” he pleaded. ”Or I could meet you at a hotel. Please, baby. You know how I crave your body.”
Perhaps he could convince her to leave town with him if they were together in person. He could do without the money if he had her. Surely she would feel the same when she thought about it.
”Not tonight. I'm busy. I'll come by tomorrow.”
”Okay, babe. Love you,” he said even though she had already hung up.
Clarence plopped down on the bed, undecided whether to continue packing. He took the lipstick tube from his pocket and laid it on the bed next to his leg. As he continued to ponder his course, a knock sounded on his door. Must be his landlady.
He hesitated though. It could be one of Kubikov's goons...or the big man himself.
”Who is it?”
”It's me.”
Relieved at the female voice he called, ”Come in.”
Almost immediately, the door opened and Heather Davies marched over the threshold.
”Why haven't you returned my calls?” she demanded with one hand on her hip. ”You must have those photos by now.”
”No.” He slumped further into the bed. ”Kubikov didn't pay up.” Clarence didn't mention he'd pretty much abandoned getting the photos back anyway.
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