Chapter 4
George walked into me one morning as I was preparing Sayer’s meds in the kitchen.
“Hey, there!” I smiled at him.
“Morning,” he replied dryly.
“Tell me something, George. I’ve been here for two months. We’ve been living in the same house, going to the same places, working together. Isn’t it obvious we should have at least some kind of communication? Yet you’ve been giving me the silent treatment since day one.”
“You’re an American.”
“That’s it? You don’t talk to me because I’m an American?”
“And you have a lousy English accent.”
“ I’ve been living in London for some time.”
“Or you’re trying to act like someone you’re not.”
“What does that even mean?”
“You could be police for all I know. You could be installing cameras all around the house with them microphones so your friends can ‘ear what we say.”
“Don’t insult me!”
“That’s rubbish! You don’t insult my intelligence. I can see right through you and I don’t like what I’m seeing.”
He turned and left all ruffled up. I was told he was a tough guy to get to, that he could blow our whole operation, and I was slowly learning that the rumors were true.
Sayer was in bed watching TV when I entered the room.
“Good morning, Mr. Sayer. How are you feeling today?”
“My day just brightened up with that smile of yours.” Always the gentleman...
“Thank you.”
“You look a bit flustered. Did something happen?”
“No, nothing,” I tried to dismiss the issue as I handed him a glass of water.
“Tell me. You know you can trust me. Who do I have to kill?”
“Nobody,” I giggled. “It’s just George.”
“He’s not being nice to you, is he?”
“He says he can’t trust me because I’m an American.”
Sayer scoffed, taking the glass into his hands, “That’s how he is. I, on the contrary, do trust you. He’s like that with everyone, don’t take it personally.”
“I don’t. One can’t be too trustful these days anyway.”
“True, but let’s talk about better things,” he shifted on the bed and patted the empty space beside him for me to sit. “How are you feeling today?”
“Very well, sir.”
“How do you like it here?”
“You’ve asked me the same question every day for the past two months.”
“Has the answer changed?”
“No. I feel very comfortable here, just like home.”
“If by any reason you decide to run away screaming one day, I won’t stop you.”
“I know. You’ve also told me that every single day.”
“And my decision won’t be changing any time soon.”
“Thank you.”
“Today we’ll be meeting with some wankers. Excuse me for expressing myself that way, it’s just that I dislike the way they work. They’re young and stupid, but they have the money to buy my stuff. Really, this is a business like any other. Maybe I could teach them some common sense. It’s the only way they’ll make it alive.”
“Why deal with them, then?”
“They are slowly climbing their way through the organizational chart, and if I supply them, I can keep them on a leash and under control. Sad but true. Are you coming with us?”
“Why not?”
“Great. I have something for you,” he reached for his night table drawer and produced a box. “A gift from me to you.”
I opened the box and couldn’t help but smile. “A knife? For me?”
“For doing a good job. I thought you might like it. Pick it up.”
I held it in my hand, it felt so good, so comfortable. I gave it a closer look and saw my name engraved on the blade.
“This is beautiful! I don’t know what to say…”
“You don’t have to say anything. The other night, during tea, you told me you liked knives but didn’t own any.”
“I do, I love them. Thank you, Mr. Sayer. Thank you so much.”
“Enjoy it, but not too much.”
For an awkward moment, I thought of hugging him, but I just nudged him with my arm. He returned the gesture.
“When are we leaving?”
“In a couple of hours. These kids don’t like getting up early.”
“Anything else you need, just call me,” I said as I got on my feet, “and thank you again.”
“No, thank you.”
I only returned to his bedroom to retrieve the empty glass, and he wasn’t there anymore. I didn’t go looking for him, no need to. He spent most of his time in his office making calls and pushing papers.
Helga came by and went directly to his office, shut the door behind her and locked it. George walked by the door several times, trying to listen in to what was being said but had no such luck. Both Helga and Sayer emerged from the room, and she went directly out into the backyard, where I was watering the plants.
“Isn’t George supposed to do that?” She approached me with a cocked eyebrow.
“I needed some fresh air and decided to do it myself.”
“You’ve been having lots of fresh air lately, haven’t you?”
“The usual.”
“Don’t give me that answer.”
“Excuse me?”
“He’s back in business, isn’t he? He’s been meeting with clients.”
“I don’t know.”
“Answer me!”
“What’s your problem?”
She snorted, folded her arms and blocked my path. “You dare ask what my problem is?! My problem is that my only brother is in danger, that I don’t want him to get killed, and he’s out there exposing himself.”
“He’s a businessman.”
“No, he’s a bloody drug dealer! Normal businessmen don’t get shot, they don’t need bulletproof windows and cars. You have no idea how it feels to be afraid to read the newspaper in the morning in fear of finding out he’s been murdered. I’d prefer him in jail than dead.”
“He’s jailed in this house anyway.”
“And I intended to keep it that way. That was why I hired you.”
“You hired me to care after your brother and I complied with all your requirements. We both know Mr. Sayer has healed very quickly and doesn’t need to be kept cooped up in the house like a bird in a cage. He’s good to go, and you shouldn’t stop him from doing what he must.”
“He raised your salary, didn’t he?”
“I am doing two jobs at the same time: nurse and bodyguard.”
I could swear I saw smoke coming out of her ears again.
“If my brother is attacked once more and you fail to protect him, I swear I won’t let you live on with it. You won’t need your conscience to torture you, because I will do it myself!”
And with that she turned and threaded her way back into the house, leaving me to finish my task.
She was gone long before we went out. This time we were heavily armed; even Sayer had two guns under his jacket. He didn’t trust these buyers at all. We picked up Cisneros and Ferdinand on the way. Cisneros was the middleman in this transaction. I was riding in front with George, giving him fleeting looks over the rifle that sat silently between us. My shiny new knife was strapped to my waist in a genuine leather holster Sayer had given me.
The meeting would take place in a hotel outside London. When we got there, Cisneros led us up to the room. A blonde bombshell of a woman opened the door.
“Your friends are here, Patrick,” she shouted over the electronic music blasting inside. “Patrick?!”
“Yeah, yeah, we heard you.” A wide-eyed scrawny black guy came to the door and held it open for us, “Come in, come in.”
It was a large suite. We crossed through a living room and another door that led to a bedroom. There was another woman, just as bea
utiful as the one that had opened the front door, fawning over a guy sitting on the sofa. Cisneros led us to him: that was the man we were there for. I studied him closely. I hadn’t seen his face before, not even in pictures. He was tanned, with dirty blonde hair. He looked more like a surfer boy than a drug dealer.
I heard Sayer take a deep breath before the guy jumped to his feet and greeted us. The scrawny black guy wasn’t the only one with the surfer boy; there was a tall white man who was wearing a leather jacket and standing in a corner, and another black man, this one big and strong, watching our every move.
“Welcome, welcome! You, get lost,” he told the girl that minutes ago had been all over him. “You too, outside, everyone,” he also told the blonde bombshell, as well as the guys. “This is real business, between us alone, isn’t it Cisneros?”
“It is,” Cisneros answered, dismissing Ferdinand.
Sayer hesitated before sending us out too. I kept close to the door, with George standing nearby. Ferdinand was keeping his distance, leaning on the wall facing us. The two girls abandoned the suite with the scrawny black guy. Those who stayed behind, the one with the leather jacket and the big black guy, looked a bit impatient, which I noticed was making Ferdinand uneasy.
“You think she’s a cop?” I heard the white guy ask the black one.
“She’s too short to be a cop,” the black guy whispered. “Stop staring at her.”
“What’s Sayer doing with someone like her? She ain’t even pretty.”
“She works for him.”
“I think I’ve figured out that much already, you cunt. The big bloke don’t seem to care, though.”
Ferdinand and I were exchanging glances. He could hear what they were saying and didn’t like it either. George, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care, and was slowly opening the gap between us.
“Patrick asked you to behave,” the black guy grabbed the white one by the arm, but he shook himself violently out of his grip. “Don’t fuck this up!”
That was like a cue for the white guy to walk over to me. I turned my back to him in an attempt to ignore him but he approached me anyway.
“I bet fifty quid you are a cop, but my mate says you’re too short. What do you think?”
“Fuck off.”
“Ooh, bad kitty. Why you here? Sayer’s already got a big bloke to protect him, so what’s your use? Oh! Are you fucking him? Is that it? You fucking him but he dressed you up in a suit, gave you a gun and told you not to talk to me. Do you know who I am? Eh? Do you?”
“You’re a wanker, for all I care.”
“I bet you haven’t been with a man in a long time, eh, sweetie? A real man,” he was now uncomfortably close to my ear. “What? Old man Sayer can’t get it up? Is that it? Tired of handjobs and blowjobs on a flabby piece of meat, eh? You’ve got a real man here. I could do you the favor, luv. Turn around and look at me. Come on, I won’t bite... unless you want, tho.”
I was getting tired of rolling my eyes and cursing in my head.
“Go fuck yourself, you prick!”
“You aren’t a brit, are you? Better yet. I’ll do you the favor anyway, don’t need to pay. I only charge the pretty girls. You, I’d do for free, you know? Look at me. Look at my fucking face, doll…”
He put his hand on my shoulder and yanked me around. What he didn’t know was that I was already clutching my knife outside its holster and, in the blink of an eye, it was stuck on his thigh.
“You fucking cunt!” He groaned, holding the wounded thigh in his hands and rolling on the floor, “look what you’ve done!”
I pulled out one of my guns and cocked it just before Ferdinand grabbed me and dragged me away over the royal blue rug. The black guy was pointing his gun at me, looking wild-eyed.
“Remember my face, motherfucker,” I yelled, “because next time I will kill you, not just pierce your fucking thigh!” I was still screaming when, all of a sudden, the bedroom’s door flung open and Sayer was staring at me.
“What is all this screaming?”
It was a confusing scene. George had stepped forward when Sayer came out and was now by my side as Ferdinand kept his grip on me. The black guy was checking the wound on his partner while their boss, Patrick the surfer boy, cursed at them both.
“You cunts!” Patrick shouted, “I told you not to fuck it, Gerard. I told you to behave, you fucking cunt!”
“That’ll teach you something about respecting women, you bastard!” I spat.
“What did he do to her?” Sayer turned to George in search for an answer, “Did you see?”
“I saw him talking to her, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying.”
Fucking liar, I thought.
Cisneros signaled Ferdinand to release me. I straightened my jacket, got my gun back, and slid it into my shoulder holster. However, when I approached the groaning victim, I was stopped by Sayer himself.
“Leave him,” he blocked my way with his cane.
“I want my knife back.”
Patrick watched in horror as Sayer asked George to get my knife back from his guy’s thigh. “He’ll bleed out,” he argued.
“He won’t if you take him to a hospital in time,” Sayer answered.
We all witnessed in silence as George leaned over the screaming man – the black guy holding his arms down – and pulled the blade slowly out of his flesh. Blood started gushing out, staining George’s shoes. Sayer took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wrapped the knife with it before handing it to me.
“I am very sorry, Patrick, but Mr. Cisneros and I have decided not to make business with you.”
“No! No, no, please!” the surfer boy begged. “This won’t happen again, Mr. Sayer, I swear!”
“Patrick, calm down,” Cisneros interjected. “Look… look at me, boy. Get rid of your rubbish and then, only then, we’ll talk business, okay?” He softly slapped the boy’s face in a friendly manner. “Sort this out and then call me. And put some pressure on your friend’s wound on the way to the hospital.”
Sayer pulled me to his side when we walked out, keeping me under his arm as we left the surfer boy and his wounded friend behind.
Chapter 5
This shit was getting serious very quick.
I remember that night so vividly, when we got to the house and George asked to speak with Sayer in private. They stayed locked in Sayer’s office for over an hour, and all I could hear was Sayer’s calm voice overlapping George’s angry pitch of voice.