The Venus Contract
By WarriorLoverInc
Chapter 11: Calm Before the Storm
The clear day was drawing to a close. The sun had long since abandoned its zenith and now it clung to the horizon, a painting of warm scarlet and yellow tones. Shadows had grown long by now, and the more shady inhabitants of New York at sundown had taken to the streets.
Neon signs flashed at irregular intervals, advertising bars, illegal dealerships, and countless other shifty businesses.
Mingling with the stinking crowd was a man. A brown fedora covered his head and eyes, and he stayed hunched within a high-collared jacket.
As he passed a brightly lit doorway, a skimpily clad woman gestured alluringly to him. But the man paid her no heed, for he was searching. Countless times his head turned, searching for a particular enterprise in the jumble of illicit shops. Frustrated, he grumbled when it seemed he'd never find it. An eye-catching neon sign came into his line of sight.
"The Rats Den," it boasted.
Crossing the street and weaving through drunkenly swaying patrons, he turned the handle of the bar and entered the joint. Low conversation, the strong scent of alcohol, wary glances, and an unwelcome atmosphere immediately assaulted his senses. The air was thick with the smoke of Cuban cigars, the lighting too low to see anything completely. This was where the rabble of society gathered to drown in drink and trade their illegal wares.
The man wrinkled his nose in disgust and found a booth next to a passionately kissing pair. Ordering two large beers, he settled down, waiting. Not but three minutes later, a pale skinned man made his way through the crowded bar and sat across the table, eyes fixed firmly on the fedora obscured face of the stranger.
"You Fox, yeah?" his Brookyln accent was pronounced as he nervously wrung his hands. In the half-light of The Rats Den it was near impossible to decipher his face, but his bright eyes flitted around the bar agitatedly.
Fox gave nothing but a nod in reply.
Quickly, the man began talking in his reedy voice. "You wanna' know Aquarius, yea?" Greedily, he slurped up the second beer Fox had ordered, the alcohol seeming to calm his nerves slightly. Thumping the mug back on the tabletop, he slipped his grubby hand across the table, practically under Fox's nose, and rubbed his fingers together, a sly look on his face. "I may know somthin'… for a price."
"Are you suggesting I cut your hand off?" Fox growled. He had not come to bargain with a criminal and he intended it to stay that way. He'd shoot the man if he had to, time was of the essence and if this venture proved to be a waste Fox would blow a fuse. Vaguely he registered the couple in the next booth increasing the intensity of their kiss.
The pale man quickly withdrew his hand, proclaiming in distress, "No! No sir! No…! I was only—!"
Audibly, a click sounding suspiciously like the safety leaving a gun reached the man's ears from under the table. The mysterious man opposite him meant business.
"Then start talking."
Fox's eyes were so fixated on the profusely sweating man before him that he hardly noticed as the two lovers stood from their booth and left, giggling like schoolgirls and leaning on each other for support.
"I know nothing!" the man's eyes were wide in terror and he had frozen to the spot, spilling his secrets now that the stakes had been raised. "But Shelah! Go to Paradise and ask for Shelah!"
Fox stood, having learned all he could from the criminal. The handgun was in the open now, but the few occupants of the bar who glanced their way dismissed it. One had to wonder how often something like this happened in this part of New York.
"Get outta' here," Fox snapped, making a show of gesturing to the door with his gun.
The pale man need not be told twice, and Fox last saw him high-tailing it through the crowd, whimpering like a kicked dog.
…
With some searching, Fox located Paradise, almost wishing he hadn't. It was a rats nest of gamblers and all manner of questionable people. He would've felt more comfortable surrounded by his enemies.
Sighing with heavy resignation, Fox strolled through the door as though he knew exactly where he was going. Paradise seemed a dilapidated movie theater from the outside, but indoors it was a whole different set up. Gambling machines lined the walls, their blinking lights struggling to be noticed in the dark, smoky atmosphere. Meagerly dressed women mingled with the guests, serving generous amounts of wine and beer. One of them latched onto his arm.
"What can we interest you in today, sir?" she giggled.
Fox shook her off uncomfortably. "I'm here to see Shelah."
Groans erupted around him. "Aw! Everyone always wants the Russian," one of them complained, and soon a few more had joined in the small crowd forming around him.
Nervously, Fox glanced back at the entrance. The couple from the bar wandered in, not even sparing him a glance.
Turning back to the group, he demanded, "Now."
Poutily, one of the women led him across the casino, through a hallway, and to a door labeled "007."
"She's in there," the woman stated simply before wandering off, presumably to find another more willing guest to play with.
Fox politely knocked.
"Come in," a woman's voice speaking perfect English with a slight Russian accent replied.
The lady inside wore a tight ruby dress. Aqua eyes set into her relatively flat face bored into Fox's forehead for all the world as if she were reading his thoughts. Precision cut black hair framed all this, halting in a straight line at chin height. Shelah ran her eyes hungrily across Fox's disguise.
"I didn't think I had anyone else today," she set aside the rose she had been examining, "but I guess I could—"
"I was told to come to you for information," Fox interrupted her, glancing around at the horribly insecure walls and door, "on Aquarius."
"Oh," her voice quieted, she too glancing at the door, as if fearing their words would be heard, "oh…"
She seated herself precariously on the edge of the blue futon dominating the space. A mirror hanging on the wall beside her reflected the closed look that came to her countenance upon mentioning the organization she hated. For a few moments of tense silence she searched the eyes of the man who had requested the information. Apparently, she saw what she was looking for, and relaxed. Slightly.
"I'm afraid what I am about to tell you could get me killed should it slip I told you," she began, "so I'm sure you know the importance of secrecy."
Fox nodded, slipping off his fedora and listening intently. "So Aquarius does exist?"
The Russian laughed lightly, coldly. "'Does it exist?' the boy asks. It runs the world from behind the scenes, the very name instills fear in the hearts of the most hardened criminals, over half the forged money around the world is manufactured by them. Does it exist? Yes, Aquarius is very real.
"I, and now you, are vone of the few people who know this organization exists. It is a fairy tale in the underworld, one of ruthless assassins, glory, power, and blood." She paused. "I cannot for sure tell you much about them, because although I know the most, I also know very little."
Fox frowned. "But can you tell me anything?"
Shelah nodded. "I know not their locations or operatives. I do know that vhen they aren't trying to disband Scorpia, they vork vith them. They vork in secret. Years ago they vere a key factor in the blood diamond trade in Africa before the failed revolution." She paused, her eyes searching Fox again.
"Unregrettably, I know nothing more. Now leave."
Fox pulled the fedora low over his eyes with a muttered "thank you," fully intending to exit the room that very moment, but he hesitated at the door. Something was nagging at his senses. Getting the information had been too easy.
He turned back to Shelah, whose eyes had been boring into the back of his head. "Why did you tell me all of that?"
Shelah grinned, a gleam in her eye. "Vhy, you ask? You're hotter than an oven in the midday Egyptian sun, that's why." Like water, she flowed over the floor until she was leaning against Fox's side. "Vhat say you? A night out, the two of us, alone… together…"
Fox sighed and shook his head. "Thanks for the offer, but I have more important things to do." He awkwardly freed himself from the Russians grasp, and left.
Curiously, the rose Shelah had been toying with earlier emitted a tiny beep.
…
Alfonsio paced the length of the table. His brow was furrowed over an agitated face and clenched jaw.
"I'm tired of murdering low-profiles. I want to assassinate! That's what I am," he stopped and slapped his chest, "an assassin!"
His mentor, Betta, sat opposite him. Low recess lighting threw most of the room and its occupants into shadow, yet still found a way to gleam off the operative's bare skull.
"No," he stated firmly, his booming voice requiring little volume to be heard, "you are not ready, Alfonsio."
Said man threw up his hands. "Why?" he all but demanded. "You've trained me for five years now! You've said yourself that I'm Aquarius's most promising student yet, I'm even in The Boss's inner circle! So why do you always insist I tag along with other operatives on routine runs instead of giving me something worthy of my talents?"
Betta calmly met his pupil's eye.
"This is why," he stated, "you're too hot-headed, too rash. Alfonsio, your skills require honing, you need experience."
"Then give me experience! Let me take care of the Rider boy!"
Sickly sweet laughter echoed from the other end of the mahogany conference table.
"Oh come now, 'Fonsi-boy. If anyone will be killing the little nuisance it will be my Boss-man."
The woman who spoke grinned like a predator, flashing immaculate white teeth. Her perfectly manicured nails topped the tips of her steepled fingers like the claws of a jungle cat. Dark brown hair was pulled away from her coffee-colored face in a loose bun and intelligent green's hid behind silver framed glasses.
Alfonsio plopped into his chair like a pouting child. Dr. Mya Angella's word was as final as her lover's command. One syllable against them and you'd soon find yourself brutally maimed. Despite her appearance, Dr. Angella would have more fun than strictly necessary ripping people limb from limb. She was a scientist by trade and would be fascinated by the rate your blood would gush out of the gashes, how your bones snapped, when your ligaments and muscles would tear, and how much pain your body could endure before it completely shut down. As the mountains on the heartbeat monitor became less and less, Dr. Angella would take scores of notes in her own sort of sick awe.
All in all, she was a pleasant woman if you weren't one of her lab rats.
Alfonsio brightened at the prospect of action. "Where?"
"Wales," she enlightened him, "the ASP's never really were a serious threat to anyone but politicians. We've had a feeling they'd fail. You, little Alfons', will finish the job."
. . . .
Authors Note: Now, before you take up your pitchforks and skewer me, hear me out. Actually… I have no excuse. ^^'
Either way, thanks for all the great reviews last chapter! Sorry if I didn't reply to them! In this chapter or the next things literally explode, so I guess it's a bit of a treat for us all.
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