Chapter 1: Colombian Gambit
The low hum of the air conditioning was the only sound Dutch could hear as he sat there, newspaper in hand. It was hot today, hotter than it had been in a while. Even in his tank top with the cool breeze of the humming machine on the wall washing over him, he could feel himself sweating. He snatched up the unopened can of beer on the table in front of him and placed the cool metal to his forehead in an attempt to cool himself down. It did not help that much.
"Well, shit," Dutch grumbled grumpily. "Might as well be pouring piss all over myself." He was normally in a fairly amicable mood unless something in particular was amiss, but this morning Dutch was cranky. That was due in no small part to the fact that both Rock and Revy had seen fit to leave Roanapur days ago to see to a job Garcia Lovelace apparently had for them. The details were scarce, but from what had been told to him, the family was being harassed by a local gang hobbled together from cartel runaways and former terrorists. The boy had seen fit to send a messenger, a priest by the name of Pius who claimed to be a friend of the family. After that, two quarters of Lagoon Company left the country without looking back. Dutch had been away from them before when they had been on jobs together.
It was not a foreign concept to him, to be separated from them, nor was he unusually upset by their absence, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more going on than he knew. Not only that, but he had received a peculiar phone call earlier in the morning, a call from Abrego. The leader of the Colombian cartel here in Roanapur seldom contacted Lagoon for anything but he seemed enthusiastic over the phone about a job he had for them. Dutch had agreed to meet him later on to discuss the details. The fact that he was essentially accepting a job without two of his most valuable colleagues brought a sense of urgency and haste to the whole situation. He just hoped they would return from Venezuela soon. Then, they could really return to the grind.
It had been a long road to where they were, one littered with empty shell casings, bodies and ruins. A true return to form was welcome, in Dutch's eyes. He had had his share of war-crazed maniacs hell-bent on destroying this or that. He just wanted to go back to accepting the standard jobs he was used to before all of that. Benny came in through the door of the apartment shortly, fanning himself with a magazine as he did so.
"Jesus, it's like walking through the Sahara out there," he complained. "Is the AC on?"
"Sure is," Dutch told him. "But it might as well be broken. Don't know why we wasted our money on the damn thing."
"Well, I don't want to think about how fucked we'd be without it." He immediately went to stand beneath the cool air, unbuttoning his shirt to let it wash over him. Dutch did not look too pleased that he was essentially blocking the flow of the air. "Have you heard anything from the others?"
"Not yet," Dutch told him. "They must still be in Venezuela."
"Not one word?" Benny asked. There was a touch of concern in his voice. "That's unusual. We ought to give them a call and see how it's going."
"Maybe," Dutch conceded weakly. He was not particularly worried for their safety. He knew well they could handle themselves, especially against some ragtag group of wannabe gangsters. "But that's not important right now. I got a call from the Colombians."
"Abrego?" Benny asked as though he hadn't quite heard that right. "That's strange. What did he want?"
"He claims he has a job for us. He sounded like he wants us on it as soon as possible. Asked me to meet him later at Lao's restaurant."
"What would the cartel want with our services?"
"Beats me," Dutch admitted. "But he didn't sound too confident when he called. I feel like he fucked up and he wants us to clean up his mess." Benny fell onto the couch across from Dutch and moaned audibly.
"You think he pissed off Balalaika or Chang?"
"Possibly. More than likely he tried to make a deal that went south. Now he wants us to get him out of whatever stream of shit he's been dropped in before the other cartels get wind of it." That sounded very plausible. The cartels rarely called on an outfit like the Lagoon Company for anything. They operated far differently than Hotel Moscow or the Triad. They never seemed to have need for smugglers or pirates, or at least that was the official line. If Abrego was calling them now, he must have gotten in over his head. And in this city, that meant he had done something that would eventually lead to him being put at odds with the ruling factions or other cartels. In that regard, Dutch hoped he hadn't done anything too serious.
If he discovered Abrego had caused the death or injury of some of Hotel Moscow's men, for instance, he would be forced to walk away from this job. That was a mess he wasn't willing to clean up. Then again, Lagoon accepted jobs in the past that put their relationship with Balalaika in a precarious position. As long as they were getting paid and they weren't being pointed at Roanapur's leaders, there wasn't much they wouldn't do. Then again, Lagoon Company were not the same group as they had been long ago. Things had changed. Dutch would need to be careful if he wanted to remain on good terms with the ruling factions.
"Maybe we should wait until the others get back," Benny suggested. "We aren't going to be much use just you and me if Abrego is in as much trouble as it sounds like he is."
"True. But we can't afford to just wait around, either. We don't know when Rock and Revy will be back. They could be out there for another two weeks for all we know. And Abrego wants to meet later today. We haven't got much choice here."
"You could just tell him no," said Benny, though even he did not seem too enthusiastic about that. Dutch grunted.
"That's just bad for business, Benny-Boy," he said derisively. "Things are only just settling back down and you want to go refusing jobs?"
"Alright, Dutch, I get your point. Well, you won't know what he wants until you meet with him. Might as well find out how much trouble he'll be getting us into." Dutch could agree there. Only now, the city seemed to be returning to how it had been before the string of attacks and invasions that rocked it to its core. True, the city had evolved, as had its residents, into better versions of themselves. Things had improved from certain perspectives. But there was less pressure and fear permeating the air, now. It truly felt like things could finally return to what passed for normality, here. And the first step in seeing to that was for Dutch to meet with Abrego to find out what he wanted. Lagoon had a chance to get back to accepting their usual types of jobs and earning a real living again.
When the time came to finally head to the restaurant, Dutch took the car and went straight there. He did not want to waste any time, especially considering how urgent the Colombian had sounded earlier. Dutch pulled up outside Lao's and went inside. Abrego, accompanied by four of his men, sat at a table by the back window. He was currently in the middle of a meal. His men stood guard behind him and the chair across from him was empty. Dutch grabbed it, flipped it around, and sat, the backrest pressed firmly against his chest. He nodded in greeting. Abrego looked up from his plate slowly.
"Dutch. Glad you could make it. I wasn't sure you'd ever come out of your cave after the crazy fucking year and a half you've had."
"What can I say, man's gotta eat."
"I hear that," Abrego told him smarmily. "Even after everything, things haven't changed, have they? The dogs still eat each other alive in the street and we still have to put food on the table, isn't that right?" Dutch smirked effortlessly.
"True enough. Now, about this job you mentioned…"
"Ah, of course," Abrego said, setting down his knife and fork. He clasped his hands in front of him.
"Before I fill you in, I need to make it clear that this is between us, Dutch. I don't want this to get back to the Russians, or even the Chinese. You get what I'm saying?" Dutch rolled his eyes beneath his sunglasses. He expected this to be a clean-up job on Lagoon's part, but it sounded like Abrego really messed up somewhere.
"Client confidentiality is a priority to me, Abrego," he assured the Colombian. "You can relax."
"Good to know," Abrego replied, satisfied. "My men and I met with a local pirate gang recently. We'd been importing our merchandise through the usual routes. They were offering quicker delivery at a fraction of the cost."
"Looking to cut down on your expenses, Abrego?" Dutch asked. He made no attempt to mask how foolish he found that notion. "Sounds to me like you were asking for trouble."
"I'm not a fucking idiot, Dutch," Abrego spat, despite evidence to the contrary. "I knew the risk involved in this. You can blame that cocksucker from Hong Kong. He squeezed us all when he tried to wage a fucking war with Fry-Face. If we were going to keep our place, we needed to cut our costs. I planned to sort out the rest later."
"Let me guess," Dutch began, "you thought you could use these pirates to transport your product at cheaper rates and then deal with any slack after the fact. But then they went and crossed you, didn't they?"
"Look, I get it, Dutch, it was a dumb fucking move," Abrego growled. "We're getting desperate, here. You can't tell me profits haven't dropped for you guys since the Big Bad Wolf started sniffing around here."
"I'd be lying if I said we hadn't come on hard times," Dutch admitted. "But that's why I'm here, Abrego. It's time to get back to doing what we do best." Abrego did not reply to that, but he seemed to agree.
"Anyway, those fucking jumped up bandits grabbed someone we had working for us. A Yankee bitch by the name of Alexis."
"I don't know the name."
"That's surprising," Abrego said. "You'd like her, Dutch. She's worked for a few smugglers in her time. We had her taking in the deliveries at the dock. That's when the fuckers grabbed her. Now they're holding her for ransom. They say if they don't get one hundred thousand American dollars by next week, they'll put a bullet in her head. What fucking cheek."
"What's this girl to you, Abrego?" Dutch asked him. "You don't strike me as the type to waste resources trying to save someone who got herself kidnapped."
"Well, that's the problem, Dutch. She's not one of mine. Let's just say she was loaned to me for a couple of months and leave it at that. But if something happens to her on my watch, it's my ass. You understand?"
"I do," Dutch told him. He would have liked more information, but he supposed that would have to do. What struck him as odd was that this Alexis was American. That effectively ruled out Hotel Moscow as the employer that loaned her to Abrego. Not only that, but Balalaika was not overly fond of the Colombians. She refused to deal with them at all unless it was absolutely necessary. In all honesty, that gave Dutch some relief. At least if this went south, it wouldn't be the Russians coming after him.
"So, what do you say, Dutch? Interested?"
"You follow through with the payment we discussed on the phone and point me in the right direction, and we'll do whatever you want, Abrego. I just hope this doesn't bite us in the ass later."