"Who the hell are you?" The impressively large man behind the gun pointed at Malcolm's forehead wanted answers. Malcolm raised his hands in front of his chest to show he meant no threat.
Use your real first name. It helps eliminate you accidentally not responding. J.T.'s advice echoed in his head.
"My name is Malcolm Walker. I'm a businessman of sorts, a fan of your boss' work. And I have something he's definitely going to want to see."
"Oh you think so?"
"I absolutely do. May I reach into my pocket to show you?" The man nodded slowly, moving slightly closer with the gun as a warning. Malcolm reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and retrieved one of the cartridges of ammo. He held it up between his index finger and thumb to showcase it. The gun in his face gradually lowered, as the man held out his other hand. Malcolm placed the cartridge in the open palm and watched as the man inspected it.
"Wait here," he said, as he turned and slammed the door behind him.
I think that went well, Malcolm thought. He laced his fingers together in front of him as he waited.
A few minutes later the man returned and opened the door. "Come in."
Malcolm obliged and entered. The door led to the storage room, wall to wall shelving of countless types of beer, wine, and liquor.
"Hands up," the man instructed as he pulled a small device from his pocket. Malcolm obeyed and he scanned for signal transmitters. When he found none, he motioned to Malcolm, "Follow me." They exited the storage room into the main area of the club. The ceiling was about twenty feet high and to Malcolm's left was a long bar area. The mirrored wall behind it had shelves of bottles going up at least fifteen feet. Across from them was a stage with just enough room for a DJ and their equipment. Along the wall to the right was an elevated section of half moon booths with coffee tables placed in the center, clearly the VIP section. Behind them were numerous walk up tables where those who needed a break from the dance floor could socialize. Above those tables there was a section of mirrored glass that ran from the ceiling down about ten feet.
The office.
Malcolm followed the man as he led him to a door he hadn't noticed to the right of a booth in the VIP section; through it was a set of stairs. Once it closed behind them, the man turned to face Malcolm, his gun again drawn, and motioned for Malcolm to lead them up the stairs. As they climbed, Malcolm reviewed his pitch in his head. He wasn't overly concerned with the gun behind him. Just as J.T. had predicted, they were trying to intimidate him. When they reached the small landing at the top of the stairs Malcolm waited. The man reached around him and knocked on the door.
"Come in," a male voice from behind it beckoned. The man opened the door and nudged Malcolm forward. The office was spacious, with floor to ceiling windows looking out into the club. There was a couch and various chairs positioned at angles to see the dance floor and stage. Against the back wall was a large mahogany desk. A man in a suit, who looked to be in his late thirties with bronze-colored skin, was sitting behind the desk looking over paperwork. Malcolm recognized Luca Morales immediately from the files he'd studied. Leaning on the desk next to him, also examining the papers, was Dani.
As Malcolm was escorted to the opposite side of the desk, Dani raised her head. For a fleeting moment her eyes looked as though she had seen a ghost. She quickly masked her shock and straightened into a standing position. Beside Malcolm, the man kept the gun in his hand but held it at his side.
Behind the desk, Luca leaned back in his chair. "Mr. Walker is it?"
"It is," Malcolm replied. He crossed his arms at his hips and held one wrist with the opposite hand. He glanced briefly at Dani before returning his focus to Morales.
"Damian tells me you have something that might interest us, Mr. Walker."
"I do." He looked at the man next to him for permission, "If I may?" Malcolm fished another cartridge out of his breast pocket and sat it upright on the desk in front of him. Dani furrowed her eyebrows slightly in silent question, as Luca leaned forawrd to retrieve the ammo and inspect it.
"What you're looking at is a 5.7 mil 40 grain steel core work of art," Malcolm began. "From a pistol alone, they will penetrate armor at fifteen yards. Put these in something more powerful, and they'll slice through kevlar like hot butter."
Luca continued to examine the cartridge, turning it over in his hands. Malcolm could tell he was trying to hide how impressed he was.
"And you have more of these you are looking to sell?"
"Many more," Malcolm teased. Dani's eyes were continuously questioning him. He could feel her trying to put the pieces together. As Luca was focused on the ammo in his hand, Malcolm risked another look in her direction. Their eyes met and he raised his eyebrows ever so slightly while barely tilting his head to the side. Then they both swiftly found other things to focus on.
Morales spent a few moments continuing to look at the cartridge. Then he sat it back on the desk. "It's interesting to me that you just so happened to seek us out, with this unbelievable hardware." Luca sat up in his chair, his arms in front of him, gesturing as he spoke. "It seems a little suspect to me."
Next to Malcolm, Damian raised the gun again. It was practically touching the profiler's left temple. Malcolm instantly whipped his left hand up behind the gun while bringing the right around to grab the Damian's wrist. In one swift motion he wrapped his left hand around the barrel, while squeezing a pressure point Damian's wrist, and wrenched the weapon out of his hand. Once he had the gun, Malcolm immediately proceeded to completely field strip it down to its individual parts, dropping each piece on the desk as he finished.
"Do your men always stand so close to someone that they can be easily disarmed?" he asked, smugly.
Dani was absolutely stunned, her mouth slightly agape. Luca, on the other hand wasn't quite as pleased. Even though his outward appearance was calm and collected, the rage behind his eyes was evident. Whether the rage was directed at Malcolm for his boldness or Damian for his stupidity, was anyone's guess.
Malcolm continued, "If you're not interested in what I have to offer, please just say so. I'd be happy to leave and sell my product to one of the innumerable buyers I'll have no trouble finding in this city. I chose you, because I have, or had, an abundance of respect for how the Niners do business. Clearly my admiration was misplaced." With that, Malcolm stepped around Damian and headed toward the door.
"Wait," Luca requested. Malcolm turned to face him. "I apologize for my abrupt conclusion. Would you please give us the room for a moment?"
Malcolm nodded and exited the room, shutting the door behind him. When he reached the landing outside the door he leaned on the guardrail; adrenaline was surging through his system. He took multiple cleansing breaths and tried to steady his shaking hands. Just as he stood back up, the door to the office opened and Damian gestured for him to re enter.
Luca was now standing by the glass wall. "I've just spoken to my boss, Mr. Walker. He's very intrigued by what you have to offer." He turned to face Malcolm. "Mr. Bennet invites you to join him in his private booth this evening here at Diablo. He looks forward to discussing a potential business partnership."
"As do I," Malcolm replied. "What time should I return?"
"Nine. Tell the doorman the password: 'Genghis'. He will see that you are escorted to Mr. Bennet's booth. If you don't mind, please exit the way you came. Better not to draw attention to our dealings." Malcolm nodded in agreement. "Dani, please escort Mr. Walker back to the service entrance."
"Of course," Dani obliged. She opened the door for Malcolm to exit the office and the two of them headed silently down the stairs and out the door leading into the club. She walked next to Malcolm, neither of them speaking until they reached the storage room. As soon as the door into the room closed behind them Dani put her finger to her mouth indicating that Malcolm shouldn't speak. She quickly checked the room for any other workers before she returned and began frantically whispering.
"What the hell is going on? Where's J.T.? Is he okay?"
"J.T.'s fine. Apparently he has arrested goliath up there a few times. They almost scrapped the whole ammunitions op over it."
"So they sent you instead?" Dani wasn't attempting to sound insulting, but it came out that way all the same.
"Why does no one remember I used to be a field agent?!" Malcolm whisper-yelled.
Dani grinned, "After that move you pulled up there, I definitely do. That was pretty impressive, Mr. Walker." She exaggerated the faux last name.
Malcolm smiled at the compliment, "Why thank you, Ms. Moore. Actually, I haven't done that in a very long time. Good thing it worked."
The two of them smiled and stood in silence for a moment periodically making eye contact then looking away. Finally Dani said, "Well, I'd better get back."
"Yeah. I need to go too." Malcolm admitted reluctantly.
"See you later though."
"Nine o'clock."
Dani disappeared back into the club and Malcolm made his way back to his car via the alley detour. When he got in, he took another long, deep breath and smiled before he turned the ignition and headed back to the precinct.
On the drive back to Diablo Malcolm couldn't help but laugh at J.T.'s reaction when he told him about disarming Damian and dropping the separated pieces of his weapon on Luca's desk.
"Bullshit. You did not," the detective scoffed.
"I did actually. You should've seen Dani's face."
As he walked up to the door of the club, however, Malcolm was all business. He knew he needed to appear arrogant, so he attempted to walk right past the doorman, who immediately put his hand on Malcolm's chest.
"Line's that way," the doorman pointed at the people standing against the side of the building.
Malcolm looked down at the hand on his chest and then slowly back up at the doorman. "I'm here to see Mr. Bennet."
"Are you? Password?" the man asked skeptically.
Malcolm straightened his jacked and cuffs, "Genghis."
"My apologies, sir." He radioed someone and reached for the door. "Dani will show you to your seat," he added as he opened it. Music flowed out of the door like a tidal wave and engulfed Malcolm the second he stepped foot into the building. The base vibrated deep into his chest and throughout his body.
Dani smiled as she walked up to him, and leaned in to his ear so Malcolm could hear her. Despite her cheerful appearance, her tone when she spoke was dire, "We have a problem." She backed away and discretely looked around to make sure no one was watching them. Malcolm furrowed his eyebrows, concerned and Dani leaned back in, "Bennet has a portable hard drive in his office with the names and addresses of every cop in the NYPD that's a detective or higher. It was delivered after you left earlier."
Holy shit.
Dani pulled back again, a professional smile on her face, but panic in her eyes. This time she turned and led him through the crowd on the dance floor. Malcolm was rattled. It took him the entirety of the walk through the masses to recompose himself and get focused on the face to face with Bennet. They climbed the few stairs up to the elevated booths and Dani directed Malcolm to the correct one. No one else was there yet.
He wants to make an entrance.
Dani moved closer to him again, "We have to figure out a way to get that hard drive, tonight."
Malcolm nodded in agreement.
"You want something to drink? Whiskey, right?"
Again Malcolm nodded and Dani left him alone in the booth. At first he stared, unfocused at the crowd, trying desperately to think of a way to get into the office unnoticed. After a few minutes of unproductive brainstorming, he refocused his mind on the first task at hand: sell Bennet on the ammo partnership.
Dani brought back his drink and sat it on the table, "I think I might have an idea," she said. "If I ask you to dance later, go with it."
Malcolm was intrigued. He agreed and took a sip from his glass. As he did, three men made their way up the stairs and to the booth. A tall, well-dressed man in his forties led the group while Luca and Damian followed closely behind him.
"I see Dani has taken good care of you." Ezra Bennet greeted Malcolm with an outstretched hand. He too had bronze skin, but where Luca's was all the lighter shades, this man's complexion was all the richest tones of the color. "It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Walker."
Malcolm stood and shook his hand, "Likewise Mr. Bennet."
"Please sit," Ezra gestured to the booth, "we have much to talk about."