Chapter Two: The Meeting
"Life is a hideous thing, and from the background behind what we know of it peer daemoniacal hints of truth which make it sometimes a thousandfold more hideous."
- H.P. Lovecraft
The sky was stained orange with dark purple clouds that crackled with thunder and lightning as the limo stopped just outside the zone. Dieter stepped out from the vehicle, looked cautiously around, then reached in to help his ward onto his feet, carefully concealing his lower legs.
"Are my legs showing?" Konrad asked with concern.
"No, your coat is long enough to cover you, sir," said Dieter. "You should be fine."
"Don't hang around here for too long, sir. It looks like there is going to be a storm and I wouldn't want to be stuck here when it happens," Heinrich warned. "Call me when you are ready for pickup."
With that, the limo drove off, leaving the pair exposed on the street.
Dieter gestured to the direction of their destination. "Shall we?"
Together, the men walked forward.
The area that their contact resided in was a shithole. Known derogatorily as "the Pit", it was a stretch of shoddy, rundown buildings and houses, the windows of the latter either boarded up, broken and/or stained. It was rare to find anything in this place in pristine condition, let alone free from grime or graffiti, and there was plenty of the latter around. No matter where the duo turned or went, there was always graffiti of some form or another on a building, usually depicting phallic imagery, breasts, human or demonic faces, pentagrams, swastikas and gang insignias, although there were occasional quotes, phrases or words in different stylized fonts and colors. Sometimes one could find a whole dialogue exchange in this mess, although they rarely seemed intellectually stimulating. Often it was just racially inflammatory and sexist crap.
'Like an online forum,' Konrad thought as he took note of the graffiti exchange.
Pink neon lights stained the street, advertising brightly triple-X rated entertainment, strip clubs and sex paraphernalia, while opposite of them were pawn shops.
A group of women dressed in long coats, revealing dresses, miniskirts and high heels greeted the two men. To Konrad, the women looked like clowns. It didn't help that some of them stared at him, particularly at the very peculiar gait in his walk. He could only thank God that the cloak had been long enough to conceal his legs and feet.
"Hey fellas," a blonde woman with thick make-up and lipstick said with a sultry smile. "Wanna party?"
"No thank you," Dieter said firmly.
"Aw, too bad, honey," another pouted, then went over to Konrad and placed her arm around his. "How about your friend with the funny walk? What do you say, big boy?"
"Get lost," Konrad said gruffly in disgust as he wrenched himself from her.
The woman stood there in shock, as if a bucket of ice water had been dropped on her head.
"Well fuck you, asshole!" The woman said hotly.
The duo walked away as she and her friends hollered at them with expletives, waving their fists angrily and giving them both the middle finger.
"Always were the charming one," Dieter said amusedly.
Konrad growled. "How far are we from where we need to be?" he demanded.
"We're almost there," Dieter assured.
"We better be."
They turned a corner and proceeded down a block, then took a right across the street over by a pizza place.
A skinny, disheveled heap of a man with piercings on his brow, nose and lower lip and a marijuana plant tattooed on his neck, came toward them, dressed in a white wife-beater and blue jeans, bearing the tell-tale signs of heroin addiction, twitching and fidgeting. His skin was practically pulled taught against his bones.
"Hey Mister, could you spare some change?" he asked.
"Piss off, junkie," Dieter said in contempt.
The man hollered after them, cursing as they continued down the path.
A youth in brown clothes ran down in the opposite direction on the other side of the sidewalk.
In an alleyway that the duo came upon, a man lay against the wall unmoving, holding a bottle in one hand.
Konrad averted his eyes away, trying to shut out everything except for the path front of him.
Two men fought on the other side of the street on top of someone's car, an old cruddy-looking thing with dents and chipped red paint, while their drunk buddies cheered them on with beer bottles in hand.
When they were twenty feet away from that group, an unshaven man with long filthy hair, dressed in equally unclean and comically oversized clothing, walked toward them along the path they were going, talking to himself loudly. Konrad and Dieter immediately switched to the opposite side of the street, away from the man as he continued arguing with whoever he was talking to. Konrad was certain the man had no earphone, let alone a cellphone.
Turning around another corner of a building, they walked down the block. As they passed another alley, Konrad saw a drunk man urinating against a dumpster, muttering to himself in drunken slurs as he tried to keep his balance. In another alley, a group of kids were smashing an old, rusted car, treating the vandalism like some sort of game.
Two hooded figures huddled together, then broke away quickly, one of them having taken something from the other's hand.
No matter where Konrad looked, there was always something going on.
One particularly uncomfortable moment occurred when after the duo turned down another corner that a group of hooded figures, four teenagers, started to follow after them. The men walked calmly, slowly increasing their pace, only to find that the group did the same. After ten more steps, Dieter whirled around with his sidearm drawn, a black eight-millimeter Beretta, his face hard and filled with hate, ready to kill.
The teenagers stopped upon seeing the gun pointed at them. In their hands, switchblades wavered. Their eyes wide like saucers, they stared uneasily at him.
"Give me a reason," Dieter said in an icy tone, then gestured to a sewer behind the group. "Dump the knives into that sewer. Slowly."
The hooded figures turned around and obeyed. One figure, apparently the brains of this ragtag group of shitheads, however, wasn't so easily discouraged.
"You too, kid," Dieter said.
"Come on, man!" The punk's friends pled.
"What are you gonna do about it?" he huffed brazenly.
He suddenly lunged forward with the knife in hand.
Dieter fired, causing the figure to cry out in pain as he dropped the knife and held his bloody hand.
"My hand!" The youth cried. "Fuck! My hand!"
Kicking the knife quickly into the sewer, Dieter grabbed the youth by the collar and slammed him up against the wall, pressing the weapon under his chin.
"What did I say?! What did I just say, you stupid fucking cunt!" Dieter roared, his teeth bared. "What did I say?!"
"I'm sorry!" The figure wept. "I'm sorry. Please! Please, don't hurt me! I'll do anything! I'll do anything, I promise."
"L-look, dude, we don't want any trouble," one of the teenagers said. "We'll give you money, just-"
"Shut up."
The figure stood there in stunned silence.
"Here's what you little fuckheads are going to do," the bodyguard said lowly. "You and your buddy are going to take a long walk back to whatever shitty little hole you're from. I am going to count to five, and if you little shits aren't out of my sight by the time I finish, I'm going to start taking shots at you like I'm at the carnival. Do you understand?"
The youth swallowed. "Yes," he answered.
"Good," Dieter replied as he shoved the thug that he was holding over to them. "Now fuck off."
The teenagers bolted, running even faster the moment he started counting. Once they were completely out of sight, he stopped.
"We should get out of here," Konrad said, "the cops will arrive."
"They won't," Dieter said. "Like I said before, the cops tend to turn a blind eye to stuff that happens around here. As long as you pay them, anyway."
"What about those thugs? I'm sure no gang member is going to turn a blind eye to one of their own getting hurt. What if they come back with more?" Konrad asked.
Dieter laughed.
"'Gang members'? Those asswipes?" he said with a smile. "Did you see their clothes? They're not part of any gang, just stupid little faggots playing gangster."
"How do you know?"
"Believe me, I know," Dieter said ominously as he glanced at his watch. "We're behind schedule. Come on, "Newton"."
The place where they were expected to meet up at was a crappy-looking bar.
Dimly lit, the bar was Spartan in its furnishings, with a bar counter at the center, a few tables, chairs, a pool table at the back, a radio that played heavy rock and a couple of old arcade machines, but it looked very unfinished and reeked of urine and cigarette smoke, the air practically thick with the latter.
The bar had no sense of style, let alone warmth, like the rest of this godforsaken neighborhood. Konrad was certain that he saw bullet holes on some of the walls. The floor and most of the barstools next to the counter were stained, with what Konrad didn't even want to know, let alone think about.
It was practically empty.
Aside from some rats and cockroaches the size of terriers, the only ones there were the bartender, a gruff bald man of forty with hairy tattooed arms and a handlebar mustache, his assistant, a scrawny twenty-year-old fellow with the face of a rat with a ring between his nostrils like a bull, and a man sitting alone at a table at the back left-hand corner of the bar next to the pool table.
The latter stood out like a sore thumb from this entire neighborhood. Dressed in a black leather jacket, a white shirt, blue jeans and a pair of black combat boots, the man was in his early thirties, had a lean but muscular build, weighing, if Konrad were to guess, a hundred and ninety-five pounds. Clean-shaven, with a blonde crew cut and tanned skin devoid entirely of tattoos and piercings, the man was strikingly handsome, much to Konrad's envy, with chiseled features, a straight nose, a strong jaw and chin, and piercing crystal-clear blue eyes. Everything about him - his cleanliness, the tidy and pristine condition of his clothing, and his build - suggested he was military, if not former military. At a glance, it would be easy to see the man as an anomaly in this crude setting - hell, compared to the rest of the inhabitants around here the guy looked like Apollo - but there was a noticeably dangerous edge that Konrad was able to sense from him, along with his arrogance; the man had a perpetual smirk plastered on one side of his mouth with a look of contempt for everyone and everything around him.
As Dieter approached him, the man stood up. Konrad estimated him to be six-two.
"Ben," Dieter greeted, tipping his hat.
"Dieter," the man said in a lazy Californian accent as he eyed Konrad suspiciously. "You didn't say anything about bringing friends along. Who's Emperor Palpatine here?"
"This is an associate of mine," the bodyguard said.
"I'm Newton," Konrad said as he held out his gloved hand to shake hands.
The man didn't reach out. Instead he just stared at him, the damn smirk creeping back up to one side of his face.
"Of course you are," he replied as his eyes studied his apparel. "The fuck is with the get up? You look like some sort of flasher."
Konrad's temper flared. In just under five seconds the man had already gotten under his skin. Konrad took a step when Dieter clapped his hand on his shoulder, giving him a look. He then turned back to the man.
"My friend had suffered some serious burns recently," Dieter explained.
"Hm," came the response.
Konrad didn't know if the man had bought it, and frankly he didn't really care.
"I didn't get your name," Konrad said.
"I never told you," the man replied evenly.
"Gentlemen, please, there's no need for hostilities," Dieter said. "Newton, meet Ben Ferris, ex-Special Forces Lieutenant. Ben, Newton. Everybody knows everybody now, alright? Okay. Now, we should sit down, we have business to discuss."
The men sat down at the table. Konrad watched as the bartender and his assistant stepped away from the bar counter and moved to the back.
"You're late," Ferris said.
Dieter shrugged. "We were briefly detained by some thugs, but a little ass-kicking or two I find is enough to send the message home," he replied.
"Usually does," Ferris nodded in agreement.
"You're not going to pat us down?" Konrad asked.
"Why? Do you want me to?" Ferris asked.
"N-No, I just thought you would want to check for concealed firearms."
"I don't bother with that," he replied. Again, the damn smirk. "Besides, I like a good fight."
"It does work up an appetite, though," Dieter said. "You want to order something?"
Ferris raised an eyebrow. "You're not serious, right?"
"You're not eating?"
Ferris gave him an incredulous look. "Are you kidding? In this stinkin' dump? I wouldn't eat the food here even if you paid me billions! You'd get botulism from this shit," he exclaimed. "The beer's safe, though. It's in a sealed cooler behind the counter. Speaking of which, I might as well get one."
He got up from his seat and headed toward the bar counter at the right.
"Yo, Boris!" Ferris called to the back. "Mind if I take a beer?"
The man said something garbled in Russian.
"I love you too, Boris baby!" He said sarcastically, making an audible and highly exaggerated smooching sound.
Coming back with beer in hand, Konrad watched as Ferris pulled the cap off and took a swig of his drink.
"Ahh, that hit the spot," he said after swallowing. "You two want a beer?"
Both men declined his offer.
Ferris shrugged. "Oh well."
Sitting back down into his chair, he regarded the two men before him.
"So tell me, Dieter, how's life been treating you?"
"I'm doing pretty well," Dieter replied.
"Still a bodyguard?"
"Yep."
"I hear that you're working for royalty. Count, is it?"
Konrad glanced around in suspicion.
Ferris laughed. "Relax, man, you're not under surveillance. Cops don't care for these parts, and I worked with both the CIA and Interpol long enough to know how they work and how to keep a hundred steps ahead of them," he said.
Konrad blinked in surprise. "You worked with the CIA?"
"Yep," he replied. "Lots of off-the-book stuff. I could tell you all sorts of juicy details - that is, if you're willing to pay me."
Nothing that Ferris said comforted Konrad. It made him realize how precarious their situation was.
"We're leaving," Konrad said.
He started to get out of his chair when Ferris stood up in protest.
"Hey, hey, hey! Fellas, please, we're all friends here. You guys don't have to worry about little ole me, this place ain't for grasses."
"And why should we trust you?"
"You don't have a choice," he said simply. "Besides, I got what you wanted."
Settling back down in their seats, Konrad nervously kept his attention on Ferris and his surroundings, planning his escape route should a raid occur.
"Relax," Dieter said as he put his hand on Konrad's arm.
"First time he's ever done this, right?" Ferris asked, regarding Konrad in amusement.
The bodyguard nodded.
"Figures," Ferris said aloud. "So, are the rumors about your employer true?"
Konrad stiffened.
"What rumors?" Dieter asked.
"I heard that the guy's supposed to be like a modern-day Howard Hughes or something, old nut-job sealed up in his own castle living like a hermit with long fingernails."
The Baron felt heat rush up to his face beneath the scarf.
Nut-job!
He wanted to smash the arrogant little shit.
"I bet the guy has AIDs or something," Ferris said.
"We didn't come here to talk about gossip surrounding aristocracy," Dieter said impatiently. "The items we requested."
Ferris waved away. "Yeah, yeah, I got it," he said before narrowing his eyes. "What about my money?"
"Not until we're sure it's the real thing," Konrad replied.
"It's real."
"So you say."
Ferris huffed. "Listen, Jack," he said, "I went through a lot of trouble getting it."
"And we appreciate that enormously, Ben," Dieter said cautiously. "However, without examining the items in question, we have no way of knowing whether it's real or not."
"Not my problem, Dieter."
"On the contrary, it's very much your problem. I recommended you because you're the best."
"Damn straight."
"And because you're the best, my employer expects results. If the people that you stole from tricked you into giving us a fake, they're not just pulling one over on us, but on you as well. How do you think you being made a dupe of is going to look to others in your line of business?"
"And who the fuck is gonna gab?!" Ferris said threateningly in a raised voice. His face was turning red. "You fuckers think you can just threaten me?!"
Dieter raised a hand in placation. "No, Ben, I'm not the one threatening you," he said calmly. "It's the men you stole from that threaten your credibility. I am the one concerned for your professional integrity."
"Gee thanks, dad," Ferris said sarcastically, "but I didn't ask you nor do I give a shit about your "concern"."
"Ben," the bodyguard said, "you pride yourself on being the best there is, on being able to see a mission through to the end. You pride yourself on having a spotless record with one hundred percent success rates for each job completed." He sighed. "Well, then again, I suppose sometimes "good enough" is just enough. We can't all be perfect, let alone successful all the time, I guess."
Ferris was quiet and still for a moment. Then he glanced up.
"Let me tell you something, Dieter," he said in a hushed voice, as if trying to restrain the full fiery blast of his rage. "You'll never, NEVER, find anyone as good as me, and when I say that the job was a success, you better not fuckin' question it! This shitty little job you gave me was nothing compared to all the others I had before. I did the job, I succeeded, and my record remains intact. You think I don't know what you're doing, trying to wind me up so that I start feeling insecure over something like this? Fuck you!"
Dieter shrugged. "If that's the way you feel."
"Damn straight that's how I feel!" Ferris said angrily, his body visibly shaking. "I don't need your approval or anyone's, so FUCK OFF!"
Dieter nodded to Konrad, motioning him to follow.
The two men got up from their seat and headed out the door, exiting the bar.
Once the door closed behind them, Konrad whirled around to face the bodyguard, "What the fuck was that?!"
"Give him a moment," Dieter said.
"Frankly I think the best course of action would be to leave as soon as possible. The man's probably arming himself as we speak, getting ready to hunt us down."
"He's not going to shoot us," Dieter assured. "He just needs some time to cool down. Trust me, I said waaay worse than that to him and I'm still standing."
That calmed Konrad down.
"You're sure?" he asked.
"Yeah," the bodyguard replied.
Konrad heaved a sigh of relief.
"Although, I still have scars from the last time..." Dieter said under his breath.
The two men waited fifteen minutes before entering the bar again, cautiously approaching Ferris' table.
"Sit."
They did so without saying anything. As minutes counted, Konrad decided to break the awkward silence.
"I want to examine the items," Konrad said.
Reaching to the chair beside him, Ferris brought up a couple of rolled up parchment scrolls that were old with age along with a medallion and a miniature bust, both depicting stylized interpretations of a tiger. Pulling his hands away, he watched Konrad as he reached out to grab them. The moment his fingers touched the artifacts, Konrad felt something, something electrical.
'Yes, they're real,' he thought.
There was power in these artifacts, he was certain. He could feel it surging through them.
Konrad did a double-take.
Where in the world did that thought come from? Was he losing his mind already?
Trying to push his worries down, Konrad unraveled the parchment and studied it, carefully examining every line and detail before moving on to the others. After two minutes, he glanced up and gave a nod.
"They're real," he confirmed.
"Told you," Ferris replied, although there was a subtle hint of relief.
"Were there any complications?" Dieter asked.
The smirk returned.
"Well," Ferris said smugly, "I may have cracked a few eggs here and there."
"You sent several men to the hospital," Konrad growled.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Ferris said innocently, then added, "but even if I did, so what?"
"'So what?!'" Konrad roared. "It was in the news! What part of "discretion" didn't you understand?!"
Ferris gave him a dark look. "I don't like your tone, Newton," he said lowly.
"And I don't like fuckups, especially ones that result in media coverage and with Tibetan monks being beaten and sent to the hospital!" Konrad fired back.
"Ha! Tibetan monks!" Ferris barked with a sneer. "Last I heard on the news they were being dismissed as "Tiger cultists" and that the Dalai Lama supposedly denied having any involvement or affiliation with them. For a group that's supposed to be about pacifism, they sure put up one hell of a fight, especially that last guy before I clocked him out. He was a nut."
He tilted his head thoughtfully. "I guess things being the way they are in Tibet and China has made people from the former take more stock of their potential value, especially with the latter country coming down on them."
He shrugged. "Oh well."
Konrad stared at the man in repulsion. "How do you live with yourself?"
Ferris scowled. "What are you, my mother? Your problem is that you're a pussy who gets squeamish at the sight of a little blood. Conflict makes the world go round, man; without it we wouldn't have our stereos, our TVs, our education, our governments, our way of life...and there's plenty of money to be made from it."
He swung his boots onto the table, leaning casually against the cushion.
"The way I see it, I'm merely doing the world a service," he said. "Whether it's overthrowing governments or helping governments find those that shit the bed, guys like me help someone out there."
"Oh really?" Konrad said sarcastically.
"Damn straight," Ferris said. "Face it, in order to maintain the illusion of being incapable of doing no wrong or having done no wrong, you need someone to do things you couldn't. Otherwise, how would you be able to sleep at night? Have you ever thought about the people that had made the clothes on your back? The same people who probably got hurt or ripped off? Do you shudder every time you use a cellphone to make a call?"
"What does my cellphone have to do with this?"
"Plenty. I can tell you about how it was made in some factory in India with child labor. I could even tell you about how those children were butchered, maimed or worse, unable to live anywhere except some shithole. Do you ever think about that every time you use a computer, text a buddy, write an email and so on? No. You may cry when you occasionally hear about it, but other than that, it's pushed to the back of your mind. Intentional, unintentional. Care, don't care. Do something, do nothing. Cause, effect, side-effect, whatever - the point is, people are going to get hurt no matter what, when, where, who, why or how, that's just life. Besides..." he paused as he drank from his beer bottle. Putting it down onto the table, he continued, smiling, "I love my job."
The smile faded from his face. "Now, if you're done being a bleeding heart, what about my payment?"
Dieter took out his cellphone. After a few minutes, he placed the phone away.
"Money's been wired to your Geneva account, as promised."
Ferris took out his own cell phone from his own pant pocket. Satisfied, he gave a nod of approval.
"Okay."
"And that concludes our business," Konrad said as he gathered up the artifacts and put them into his pockets. Turning to his companion, he gave him a nod. "Let's go."
Getting up from their seats, the two men turned around and started for the exit.
Konrad was surprised to see how quiet and empty the streets had become. It hadn't been that long since he and Dieter came into the area, and yet in the span of a few minutes, all activity had ceased the moment they exited the bar. As he and his bodyguard retraced their way back, Konrad anxiously watched the empty streets. The only sounds he heard were wind and thunder from the approaching storm. The only activity he saw was the fluttering of a piece of cardboard. Konrad felt exposed in the empty streets due to its openness and silence. Even more, he was certain that he and Dieter were being watched and followed. Dieter also seemed aware of it himself, for despite the broad brimmed felt hat concealing most of his face in shadow, Konrad could see the man's mouth drawn into a tight grim line. He was also getting noticeably jumpier, his hand ready to reach for his sidearm at the slightest disturbance in a moment's notice.
They were close to the entrance when a clattering of garbage cans from their right caused Dieter to whip out his Beretta. A loud meow caused the man to give a sigh.
"Fucking cats," he said.
Rounding a corner, Konrad saw the familiar glow of the neon lights when a punch to the eye caught him by surprise, causing him to stagger back.
"Sir!" Dieter shouted.
Konrad heard a scuffle, a gunshot, a grunt and a clatter on the ground, followed by the sound of someone being hit, a groan of pain and a thud. As he regained his balance, Konrad looked up to see Ferris stepping out from the shadows, standing over Dieter with a sneer on his face.
"Did you think that I was just going to let you go after that little stunt ya pulled, D?" Ferris asked.
He kicked Dieter in the ribs, causing him to cry out in pain.
"You think you could just humiliate me like that in front of my associates?!" He said before kicking him again.
"Leave him alone!" Konrad yelled as he charged forward.
Dodging his attack to the side, Ferris backhanded him, causing him to stagger back in pain.
"Fuck off, gimp," he replied.
Konrad whirled around in rage, lunging again at the man with hands outstretched, lashing out in every direction he moved. Ferris effortlessly ducked, danced, rolled and glided through the swipes.
"Ha! You fight like a bitch!" The man sneered.
Konrad charged him again, his face heated beneath his scarf. When he stepped forward to throw a punch, Ferris somersault kicked into the air, the blow catching Konrad in the jaw, lifting him off his feet and causing him to crash onto the ground and see stars.
Rolling over, he stumbled onto all fours when he felt a blow to the chest, causing him to double over, followed by another, and another and another. Ferris was circling around him, laughing at him.
"Fuckin' faggot! You thought you could take me on?! ME?! Really?!" He said loudly, spitting on him. "Stupid motherfucker. You can't fight for shit."
Konrad struggled onto his hands and knees when he felt the mercenary grab his hood.
"Let's see what you look like," Ferris said as he pulled the hood back.
As the hood was whisked away, Ferris stared, startled and perplexed by what he saw.
"What the fuck?!" He said.
No sooner had those words left his mouth when the cloaked figure gave a roar of fury as it lunged at him, knocking him down onto his back. The cloaked figure pummeled at him repeatedly, slamming his fists against his face like an angry gorilla over and over.
Konrad continued slamming his fists down on Ferris, his entire consciousness consumed by nothing but rage and hate. He would have continued had Dieter not intervened by pulling him away from the figure beneath him.
"STOP IT! STOP IT! SIR, GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF!" Dieter said through clenched teeth as he clutched tightly around his torso.
Konrad struggled against him.
"Sir, for God's sake, stop! Breathe through your nostrils. Just breathe, Baron!" Dieter said in a hushed voice. "Breathe in, breathe out. Slow breaths."
The Baron closed his eyes and followed the bodyguard's instructions. After three minutes, his body relaxed.
"You okay?"
Konrad nodded. "Ja."
Once was he satisfied that Konrad regained self-control, Dieter let go.
"Good. Get your hood back up, sir," he instructed as he went over to Ferris' fallen form, his felt hat in hand.
Konrad paled as he saw the damage done. Ferris' face was swollen, his eyes black and blue while blood oozed from his nose.
"Is he dead?" he asked worriedly as he tidied himself.
The bodyguard shook his head as put his felt hat back on.
"No, he's still breathing," he assured. "Barely conscious."
A slight groan came from Ferris' cut lips as he dazedly looked up at Dieter.
Pulling out a pair of handcuffs from his coat, Dieter clapped one manacle around the semi-conscious man's wrist, then after rolling him onto his side, bound both hands behind his back.
"Since when do you carry around handcuffs?" Konrad demanded.
"It's a present from an old girlfriend that was into kinky shit," the bodyguard explained. "Call the car."
Konrad pulled out his cellphone and dialed.
"Heinrich, get your ass here this instant!" He said. "I'll send you the address to pick us up at."
"Jawohl!" Came the reply.
Once he finished texting the address of the street they were on, Konrad hung up turned back to Dieter.
"Car's on its way."
"What are we going to do with him?" Dieter asked, gesturing to Ferris.
"We'll take him with us. He's seen me."
Dieter gave him a dark look. "We're kidnapping people now?"
"We don't have a choice, Dieter. He knows and has seen too much."
"And what are we going to do, kill him?"
"I-" Konrad paused. He hadn't thought this through. "I don't know. I need to think. Has anyone seen us?"
"Why, you plan on taking them with us too?"
"Dieter!"
"I don't think anyone saw us," the bodyguard replied. "But sir, this is crazy!"
Konrad grunted. "Welcome to my world."
It didn't take long for the limo to arrive.
"What happened, Herr Baron? Who is that?" Heinrich asked as they approached the car with Ferris in hand, dragging his feet along the ground as they carried him.
"Never mind that. Open your trunk," Konrad demanded.
Exchanging nervous glances with the others in the backseat, Heinrich looked to Dieter for an answer.
"Do as I say!" Konrad said harshly.
Flinching, the driver obeyed, popping the trunk open. Dragging Ferris to the back of the limo, they pulled up the lid and hoisted the man in before sealing it shut, slamming it down hard to make sure it was secure.
"Do you still have the artifacts, Baron?" Dieter asked.
Checking his cloak, Konrad felt around in the pockets before finally grabbing hold of said-items. Glancing up, he gave a nod.
"Do you still have your weapon?" he asked. "
"Yeah."
"Are you sure? I don't want some homeless person or kid to-"
"I got it," Dieter interrupted.
"Good," Konrad said as he gave one final glance around. The winds were picking up and it was starting to rain. The storm was close. "Let's get out of here."
The drive back was tense as the other men in the limo silently stared at Konrad and Dieter.
Rain pelted loudly against the vehicle like millions of fingers tapping on a table while the wind whistled. Even through the tinted windows Konrad could see how dark it was getting outside. It was at that moment he heard the siren behind them along with a pair of flashing lights.
"Shit," Heinrich said as he slowed and pulled over.
Konrad's heart raced as he saw the silhouettes of two police officers head over to the driver's side.
As Heinrich rolled down his window, Konrad caught sight of one of the men. Dressed in a blue retro-styled overcoat modeled after the American police uniforms of the 1910s and 1920s, with a balaclava covering most of his head except for his face, the man wore a peaked cap and had a harsh face with a strong aquiline nose.
"Guten Abend, Officer," Heinrich greeted. "Is there a problem?"
"You were speeding," the officer replied.
"Ah hell," the driver swore.
"License and registration please."
As Heinrich reached for his wallet, Konrad heard a groan.
The sound caught everyone's attention.
"What was that?" the officer said.
"Hello?" Ferris shouted from the trunk.
"There's someone in the trunk," Konrad heard a voice say to the police officer. Probably his partner.
"I know who it is," the officer replied with a dark look on his face.
"Help me! Somebody! Anybody! Help me! Please!" Ferris called.
"Open the trunk, sir."
"But-" Heinrich protested.
"Do it," Konrad said in defeat.
He was kidding himself if he thought for a moment that he was actually going to get away with it. The only thing for him to do was to accept what was to come.
Konrad heard the click at the back, then watched as both officers went to the rear of the limo.
"Well, well, well," one of the officers said in English. "Mister Ferris."
"Fritz, old buddy!" Ferris exclaimed. "It's so good to see you! Hey Hans!"
"It looks like you got yourself in quite a predicament," Fritz said coolly.
"Yeah, I'm a bit tied up," Ferris replied, then gave a laugh. "Ha! "Tied up". Could either of you help me out here?"
The officers were quiet.
"Come on, guys! Get me out of this stinkin' thing!" He demanded. "Get me the fuck out of here! Don't forget who it is that gives you those big juicy paychecks."
"I haven't forgotten, Ben. You've been very generous," Konrad heard "Fritz" say before adding angrily, "but that didn't give you the right to sleep with my wife! NOR! MY! DAUGHTER!"
"Nor mine!" "Hans" said in addition.
"Look, we can talk about this. I'll double what I pay you. Triple it, even!"
Konrad watched as one of the officers came back to the driver's window.
"Do any of you have some tape?"
Everyone shook their heads.
"A sock, perhaps?"
Lawrence raised up a hand.
"Oh good," the officer said. "Could you pass it here, please?"
Konrad stared at the exchange in bemusement as Lawrence pulled a sock out from his pant pocket, reached over and handed it to him.
"Thank you."
Everyone exchanged questioning glances to each other as the man disappeared again to the rear.
"I don't know who you managed to piss off this time, Ben, but I honestly hope that I never see you around here again. Auf Wiedersehen!"
"You're not getting away with this! Do you hear me?! When I get out of this I'll make you two regret messing with me! Fuckin' pussies! Your wives and daughters knew what a real man I was!"
Konrad heard one of the officers struck Ferris, causing him to let out a grunt in pain.
"Ooh, did I hit a nerve?" Ferris taunted. "It's not my fault you two have cheap imitation for dicks!"
"Restrain him while I get the gag on," "Hans" said.
"YOUR WIVES TOLD ME HOW NEITHER OF YOU COULD SATISFY THEM! NEITHER OF YOU! THEY JUST LAUGHED AT YOU AND WERE BEGGING ME NOT TO STOP! AND YOUR DAUGHTERS WANTED M-"
Ferris was cut off, his rants becoming muffled. When they finished, Konrad heard one of the officers struck Ferris again, causing the muffling to stop. Closing the trunk, one of the officers went to the driver's window.
"We'll let you off with a warning this time," he said. "Have a good evening, gentlemen."
As the two officers headed back to their vehicle, Konrad felt all the nerves in his body untangle as the limo departed. Everyone in the vehicle heaved a collective sigh of relief. Dieter gave a short laugh.
"Well, we certainly dodged a hell of a silver bullet back there!" He chuckled.
The other men joined in. All except for Konrad, who only glared.
Dieter paused.
"Sorry."