Dressed in wooden sandals and a dirt-stained grey robe tied by a leather belt, a leather circular badge on the robe, Rokuro Okajima, sporting long black hair split down the middle, runs up a green hill in medieval Shimazu Japan, a medieval castle in the background. Reaching the hill's summit, he overlooks the Battle of Shiroyama, as Imperial Japanese forces dressed in blue uniforms and armed with NERF super soakers open fire on the charging samurai rebels that are armored in cardboard boxes and armed with plastic swords, to the sound of pounding techno. In the distance, Rokuro Okajima could hear, as if from a megaphone, "The train to Tokyo will be arriving in 20 minutes. I repeat, the train to Tokyo will be arriving in 20 minutes."
Suddenly, Rokuro Okajima feels a tap on his right shoulder. He turns around to find Victor Jaggi, dressed in an unzipped black leather jacket, exposing his Bengali Tiger tattoo, spiked black shoulder pads, spiked dark metallic gauntlets, black leather pants, dark brown spiked combat boots, a bandolier around his waist, and a TEC-9 in a waist-side holster on the left side of his waist, his face obscured by his black samurai helmet and smiling mask, the mask featuring a fake, trimmed beard made of grey wolf hairs. On the forehead of the helmet sits a golden emblem of a yacht. Grabbing both of Rokuro's shoulders with his gauntlet clad hands, Jaggi yells out "And if it's cloudy and I find you bloody sobbing, then I shall rip your fucking head off!"
Out of nowhere, the land right behind Jaggi splits into a canyon. Laughing hysterically, Jaggi grabs Rokuro by the waist with his hands, clenches tightly, and jumps into the canyon, taking Rokuro with him. As Rokuro screams and as Jaggi laughs, their entire world plunges into darkness.
Sitting on a pair of wooden chairs opposite each other, a wooden coffee table between them, the chairs and table on a hollowed out row boat in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, Rock, dressed in his grayish-green business suit, white dress shirt, grayish-green tie, and black dress shoes, and Chang, dressed in his trademark trench coat attire, wearing his sunglasses, each play a game of Go on a 13 by 13 board. The sun beats down on the boat, causing Rock to shield his eyes. Chang places a white pebble on the board and smirks, saying "Double Atari." As he smirks, the boat slightly rocks up and down amidst the calm, cool Pacific.
A spray of water hits Rock's face. He wipes it off and says "I…well…" "Your turn," Chang blurts out. Rock turns to his board of Go and says "Oh, I forgot. Um…atari." As he places a black pebble on the board and pulls a white pebble off the board, placing the pebble in his pocket, Chang takes a white pebble from his pocket and places it on the board "Atari again." Rock smiles as Chang takes the black pebble. Grasping onto another black pebble, just pulled from his pocket, Rock places the pebble down. After Chang placed a second white pebble, Rock quickly slams a new black pebble down and says "Crane in the nest. You fell for it. Seven pebbles down at once." Chang smiles and says "You always had the makings of a vainglorious asshole."
Smiling, Rock says "I haven't forgotten about how you one-upped me during the fiasco with Roberta and those U.S. special forces." Chang lets out a chuckle and says "Still sore about that? C'mon, the house always wins. You know that."
Pulling on his blazer collar and pocketing the seven white pebbles, Rock replies "Ieyasu won Japan by retreating. He traded away five states for the eight that he and the Oda's successor were about the take from the Hōjō, the last enemy that they thought they shall destroy. Sacrificed the loyalties of five states for the allegiance of eight…eight remote states in the far north. Gave him an excuse not to join the Oda in the Korean invasion…prevented him getting embarrassed by it. Kind of like Go, he retreated territory to win." "Was it worth it? Atari," Chang asks, placing a white pebble on the board. "Worth what?" Rock says, placing a black pebble on the board. "This," Chang answers, placing a bent silver bullet on the board, as if it was a pebble piece.
Rock lets out a nervous laugh and asks "Where's the manager here?" Chang leans back on his chair and casually says "Out to lunch." As Rock raises an eyebrow, Chang bursts out into hysterically laughter, almost falling overboard. Looking on the row boat floor, the floor revealed to be made of cat fur, Rock sighs and says "I figured out I'm dreaming. It's not that difficult." Reducing his laughter, Chang retorts "Sure, sure. Have a drink."
Turning toward the edge of the row boat, Rock ducks his head into the ocean water, experiencing a psychedelic surge of colors and patterns, glaring clearly at oddly colored fish, a sunken submarine, towers of crystal meth, and a smiling, defaced statue of the Sleeping Buddha. Pulling his head out of the water, Rock shakes his soaked head and turns to the board. Smiling, he says "Looks like I'm about to win."
"It's not that kind of game Okajima," Chang calmly blurts out. Glaring at Chang in confusion, Rock sheepishly asks "What do you mean?" Suddenly, Rock gasps as a needling pain overcomes him, his hands contorting backwards, schizophrenic whispers touching his ears. The whispers audible enough for only Rock to hear, Rock starts screaming in terror as his body succumbs to convulsions. Drawing a CZ-75, Chang aims the pistol at Rock and says "House rules. It always wins."
Bang*
Entering their motel room, brown bag of groceries in her right hand, dressed in a dark blue tracksuit with sky blue vertical stripes on the sides of her tracksuit top and her tracksuit bottom, Revy spots Rock on the bed, stirring from his sleep, his right hand taped. She says "My bad," and places the groceries on the shelf next to the TV set. Meanwhile, Rock, wearing only black boxers, pulls his blanket off of him and rubs his eyes with his right hand.
Removing her boots and approaching the bathroom, Revy steps inside and blurts out "Why is there a potato chip floating in the toilet?" Rock yawns and says "I dropped one on the floor. Tried to flush. Didn't work." Revy replies, slightly confused "We got a trash can." Rock shrugs his shoulders and says "Didn't want to bring out the roaches." Pulling the level, Revy flushes the potato chip down the toilet and says "It's gone."
Closing the bathroom door, Revy pulls the toilet seat down and yawns. Meanwhile, Rock climbs out of bed and reaches for a remote on a nearby drawer. Now seated at the front of the bed, Rock turns toward the television and presses a red button on the remote. The television tunes into a commercial for Vietnam Airlines.
Hearing the sound of a toilet flushing, Rock climbs off the bed and heads toward the bathroom. As Revy hears the bathroom door close behind her, she sits down at the front end of the bed, close to the TV, and allows her thoughts to drift to the 11 O'clock news. A clean-shaven South Indian man with short black hair, dressed in a grey suit, appears behind a desk, a black faded background behind him. He announces in slightly Singaporean-accented English.
"Welcome to Singapore News Asia. My name is Edward Chandran and I will be your host for this broadcast. Today is January 9, 1998. It is a crisp, comfortable breeze here in Singapore, seems to be consistent with the rest of Southeast Asia. We have developing news from the United States. Ramzi Yousef, Al-Qaeda operative and mastermind of the World Trade Center bombing and the Oplan Boujinka, has been sentenced to life in prison for his role in said World Trade Center bombing. Mr. Yousef, a Kuwaiti-born Pakistani who studied electrical engineering in Swansea, Wales, was arrested in Islamabad, Pakistan on February 7, 1995, through the combined efforts of American and Pakistani intelligence agencies. On February 26, 1993, a truck bomb, planted on orders from Mr. Yousef, detonated inside the garage of the Northern World Trade Center tower, killing six and injuring over a thousand. In 1994, Ramzi Yousef acquired Philippine passports in Singapore with fellow terrorist operatives, before committing several terrorist attacks on the archipelago nation. Throughout the December of 1994, Mr. Yousef detonated explosives in Cebu City and Manila, inflicting injuries on innocents, before detonating an explosive on a plane traveling between Manila and Tokyo, Japan. Mr. Yousef was believed to have left the explosive onboard the plane after exiting during a transfer in Cebu City. The explosive, detonated on a delayed timer, killed one Japanese man and injured 10 others."
Exiting the bathroom, his hair damp, Rock sits down next to Revy and watches the news. Edward Chandran continues "In January of 1995, Ramzi Yousef mastermind a plot to assassinate the Catholic Pope, John Paul the Second, during the latter's visit to the Philippines. This was to be followed by a near simultaneous series of bombings on seven major East and Southeast Asian airlines in Hong Kong, the Philippines, Taiwan, South Korea, Thailand, Japan, and Singapore, as well as on five major American airlines. The plan would have concluded with a hijacked plane crashing into the American Central Intelligence Agency in Virginia, U.S.A. Mr. Yousef was also reported to have considered plans to hijack plans and crash them into the American World Trade Center, Pentagon, and Sears Towers, as well as plans to assassinate Philippine president Fidel Ramos. The plot was mercifully foiled when terrorist operative and associate of Ramzi Yousef, Abdul Hakim Murad, accidently triggered a fire in their hideout, which ultimately led to Mr. Murad's arrest by Manila watch commander Aida Fariscal. Ms. Fariscal's actions were cited as the main instrument for the foiling of the Oplan Boujinka, and she has been credited by security agencies and governments worldwide with saving the lives of thousands, including Pope John Paul the Second. Ramzi Yousef's sentencing closes yet another of a long running line of cases involving the terror organization Al-Qaeda and the various terror groups operating under its umbrella, and is considered a significant victory for counterterrorism worldwide. Now, heading to news from Japan, where British Prime Minister Tony Blair is soon expected to arrive for a diplomatic visit in the nation's capital, Tokyo, breaking a four-year draught between the two states."
Revy nudges Rock and says "That transport job we did for the CIA, a year ago. Was that anything to do with this Ramzi fuck?" Rock shakes his head and says "That Boujinka plot happened a year before I joined the Lagoon. I think I remember Chang saying how a president was at risk, but I'm not sure if it was the U.S. president. I think the Philippine president was the target. Fidel Ramos, again. Since the Philippines and the United States are like poker buddies." Revy lets out a laugh and says "Whose cereal did Ramos shit in? And where is our fucking medal? Ha, jerk." Rock grimaces and says "I don't think you would like the extra attention." "Oh yeah? Why not? I got my needs. Sometimes a lady likes being told she's a winner," Revy jokingly replies, lightly punching Rock's left shoulder. Rock cracks a weak smile as Edward Chandran announces "Now, to Sylvia Tan for breaking news from Southern Vietnam, as details come to light involving the rash of violence in Vũng Tàu and Đà Lạt."
Appearing across the street from Trung Thanh Hoàng's house, the house sealed off with police tape and guarded by a pair of young male Vietnamese patrol cops dressed in green police uniforms, a Chinese woman with slightly short dark brown hair pulls a microphone closer to her lips. She is dressed in a dark blue women's business suit and brown high heels. Speaking in Singaporean-accented English, she says "Thank you Edward. I am standing across from the home of Trung Thanh Hoàng, a prime suspect in the Vũng Tàu shootings. Mr. Hoàng, the brother of Chù Thanh Hoàng, was arrested by agents of the Tổng Cục Tình Báo, more colloquially known as the Vietnamese secret police. Immediately after his arrest, armed gunman engaged fire with two sedans filled with the agents, killing all the agents. It then appeared that one car full of assailants escaped with Trung Thanh Hoàng, after a brief battle that left two policemen dead and another in critical condition. A second group of assailants carjacked a separate vehicle, killing a local plumber, Phúc Cao, in the process."
Upon hearing the driver's name, Rock grimaces and looks to the floor.
"The second group of assailants were pursued by police, running over a traffic cop in during their escape. The traffic cop died under intensive care yesterday. The assailants eluded police by crashing through several rows of greenhouses. The assailants then crashed their vehicle in a local café, before stumbling into a red Toyota Corolla. The assailants then made their escape. It is believed the first group of assailants, those that escaped with Trung Thanh Hoàng, used Mr. Cao's vehicle during the escape, while the second group used an SUV that was damaged in the firefight with the Tổng Cục Tình Báo. Trung Thanh Hoàng himself is an agent of the Vietnamese Secret Police, although any attempts to learn of his exact role with the organization have been stifled. Chù Thanh Hoàng, the owner of the Indochina Daily, is also considered a prime suspect in the Vũng Tàu shooting, which claimed the lives of Cambodian businessman and suspected mob boss Van Thirith, his Thai second-in-command Supakrit Bunyasarn, and what the Vũng Tàu police department believe to be his translator and liaison with international smugglers, Hao Diệp, along with nearly Mr. Thirith's entire organization. Yesterday night, a source that wished to remain anonymous revealed that the Vietnamese secret police suffered a theft of equipment roughly three weeks ago, and that the equipment that was reported to have been used in the Van Thirith shooting matches the equipment that was stolen. This morning, I have received details from Vũng Tàu police, who have been working in conjunction with Australian investigators, concerning the four Australian nationals also killed in the raid."
The TV set immediately darts back to Edward Chandran, who says "Excuse me, Sylvia. Are you suggesting that the Vietnamese Secret Police were not responsible for the Vũng Tàu shooting?" Cutting back to Sylvia, she says "It does appear that way. It does appear that whoever stole the equipment may have been directly or indirectly tied with those that committed the shootings in Vũng Tàu. I cannot comment any further on this matter until more details emerge."
Returning to Edward, he says "And what of the four Australians that were killed in Vũng Tàu?" Returning once again to Sylvia, she says "It has been revealed that the four Australians were engaged in a conspiracy to smuggle a significant amount of ecstasy into Vietnam. An undisclosed amount was found on board a yacht that was docked in Van Thirith's private pier, along with two of the dead Australians. One of the four Australian nationals killed in the raid has been revealed to be Holly Salzgeber, a notorious criminal wanted by Australian authorities for three separate liquor store robberies in Sydney, and for the stabbing murder of Macedonian-Australian patron, Daniel Popov, in a bar in Wollongong, over a disputed game of snooker. The other three slain Australians were Felix Vermansyah, Gerald Tomlinson, and Vernon MacAllister. All three were former technicians for the Sydney Water Corporation, a New South Wales government-owned corporation that functions as a waterworks municipality. The three men quit the municipality roughly three months ago, all leaving during a two-week time span. It is currently unknown how the three men became acquainted with Ms. Salzgeber."
As the TV set cuts back to Edward, Revy nudges Rock and says "The Aussie cops haven't fingered Jaggi yet." Rock nods in agreement as Edward asks "What of the shootout in the town outside of Đà Lạt?" As the TV returns to Sylvia, she answers "A red Toyota Corolla was reported to have driven away from the shootout. As such, police are suggesting that this firefight is connected with both of the previous two shootouts. Eight bodies were recovered from the shootout that occurred outside the home of Vietnamese national Vibol Ang. Mr. Ang himself was one of the eight slain in the firefight, along with Vietnamese national Trí Vũ. Police have not released the identities of the remaining six. Mr. Ang worked as a farmer in the Mekong Delta up until the 80s, where he relocated to work as a taxi driver in Đà Lạt. Mr. Vũ was employed in Ho Chi Minh City as a stonemason, until 1995. Neither had any prior criminal records nor connections to Van Thirith and the Hoàng brothers. As one may imagine, the police presence in Đà Lạt is as substantial as that in Vũng Tàu. The people of Vietnam may only hope that a quick resolution to this crisis is reached and that no more blood will be spilt. This is Sylvia Tan, reporting from Đà Lạt, Vietnam."
"Fuck, here I was hoping to put a name to those assholes that attacked us," Revy bemoaned. Rock scratches his chin and says "I'm going to think on this." Revy shrugs and says "I figured. Now while you think, can you go to the pizzeria around the corner? Two slices of pepperoni and a set of garlic knots. And some parmesan cheese packets. I'm going to work off the cake from yesterday."
Climbing off the bed and reaching for a pair of brown shorts, Rock asks "You want two slices of pepperoni and garlic knots, right?" Revy nods and rests her back on the bed, saying "Yeah…yeah." She looks to the ceiling and closes her eyes. Putting on his black and white plaid dress shirt and brown shorts, and reaching for a set of brown leather sandals, Rock says "I'll be back." As he prepares to leave, he turns to Revy and says "Um…thanks." Revy nods in response as Rock exits the motel room. Walking down the stairs with his hands in his shorts' pockets, Rock steps on the main lobby. He barely resists making eye contact with the motel manager, the latter reading a newspaper, oblivious to Rock, still with tissues stuffed up his nose. Approaching the exit, Rock steps through the doors and lets the Nha Trang breeze tickle his face.
Walking westward on Tuệ Tĩnh Street, Rock passes an assortment of motels, cafes, and convenience stores. A middle-aged Vietnamese woman wearing a white surgical mask, a short-brimmed rice hat, a white sweater, gray gloves, and black pants, climbs onto a blue bicycle parked somewhat rudely in front of a café entranceway. She gently peddles the bicycle off the sidewalk and then merges with the light traffic, being flanked on her left by a blue GAZ-53 flatbed truck loaded with propane gas tanks, a red sign on the back of the truck saying 'Nguy hiểm! (Danger)'. Pressing onward, he passes a few more motels and a huge, whitish blue colored hotel that has the word 'Starlet' on the roof in blue lettering. After passing a large grocery store, eying the pears, grapefruits, and bananas on the front displays, Rock spots a pizzeria called "Mussolini's."
Laughing to himself at the name, Rock steps through the front door into a slightly dirty and cramped pizzeria, the counter showing several large metallic plates behind glass sheets, most of the plates empty, three with actual pizza. Two of the plates feature a calzone each. On the wall to the right, a few neon-lit signs display the menu in black Vietnamese lettering. Two Vietnamese men operate the front of the pizzeria. Both are dressed in slightly dirty and sauce-stained chef's clothes, jeans, and caps of Becamex Bình Dương F.C. To the left of the counter, Rock could spot a row of six tables, one of them occupied by a 30-something year-old Vietnamese woman dressed in a light blue buttoned shirt and dark blue jeans, sporting short black hair, and what appears to be her 4-year-old daughter, the little girl saying "Pizza!" Her mother smiles and nods, saying "Vâng, vâng (Yes, yes). Bánh pizza." Behind the tables is a swinging door that leads to a small kitchen.
Approaching the counter, Rock glances at the slices, two half gone cheese pies and a lone slice of a cheese pie topped with mint and chả lụa. He immediately notices that the slices appeared to have been reheated multiple times to the point of inedibility. He turns to the younger of the two Vietnamese men and asks in English "Can I have two slices of pepperoni and a set of garlic knots?" The Vietnamese man thinks for a second, and then says in Vietnamese-accented English "We're out of pepperoni." Rock raises an eyebrow and says, in disbelief "How can you be out of pepperoni?" The Vietnamese man shrugs his shoulders and repeats "We're out of pepperoni." Annoyed, Rock inquires "Do you have garlic knots?" The Vietnamese man pauses and says "We got garlic bread. Fresh. It will take five…maybe ten minutes. That alright?" Rock nods and says "Sure, alright. And can I get two slices of that…actually…not…actually no again. I'll get two plain cheese slices. Heat them up good." The Vietnamese man grabs a small metallic pizza spatula with a wooden handle, lifts up two of the slices, slightly awkwardly carries them to a metallic pizza oven, and tosses them inside. He closes the oven and turns around, asking "That all?" Rock thinks for a second and asks "Can I see the menu?" The Vietnamese man glances at Rock and says "We're out of menus." "You're out of menus?" Rock asks, very confused. The Vietnamese man shrugs and says "We're out of menus."
Exhaling a sigh, Rock mutters under his breath "Whatever…" After half a minute of bizarrely awkward silence, the Vietnamese man says "That will be 62,000 Dong." "Six-two?" Rock speaks back, seeking clarification. The Vietnamese man nods and says "Yep." Fishing out a 50,000 Dong note, a 10,000 Dong note, and a 2,000 Dong note, Rock hands the money to the Vietnamese man, who rings up the register. As the Vietnamese man places the money in the register, he says "Listen buddy, if I have, I would have sold you it. It's just this teenager who used to work for us, fired her, she then stole most of my pepperoni, most of my menus, and other stuff, and I have to wait for the next shipment. So that's why. All she had to do was take inventory and sign off on the next shipments. Who knew that there are people that can't even work as a supply clerk?!" Muttering under his breath, he adds "Vô dụng con đĩ (Useless bitch)." Rock nods and says "Hmm," as the Vietnamese man prepares to retrieve the pizza from the oven.
The man adds "You know? Maybe those Arabs have the right idea. You steal something, you get your hands cut off. Like that nonsense in Vũng Tàu and Đà Lạt. Heard about the supply clerk that they went to arrest?" Rock leans over the counter, confused. He answers "S…sort of. Supply clerk?" Placing the slices in a pizza box, the man speaks "Yeah, supply clerk for the special police. The guy that they went to arrest, and the whole thing turned into this crazy shootout, like cowboys. I bet he was selling their stuff onto the black market. I tell you, people like that need their hands hacked off, as a warning. But, what do I know?"
A slightly tanned skinned Cambodian man in his early 20s exits the rear kitchen of the pizzeria, holding a brown bag in his hands. He turns to the younger Vietnamese man and slightly yells in Khmer-accented Vietnamese "Tỏi bánh mì (Garlic bread)!" The younger Vietnamese man grabs the bag and says "Cám ơn (Thanks)." He places the bag on top of a plain, small pizza box, and hands Rock the goods. Rock places the bag of garlic bread in his grocery bag, adjusts the grocery bag into his left hand, and grabs the pizza box with his right. As he prepares to leave, he suddenly remembers and asks "Sorry. Can I get a couple of bags of parmesan cheese?" The Vietnamese man shrugs his shoulders and says "We're out of parmesan cheese." Rock glares at the Vietnamese man and asks "Why are you even open?" The Vietnamese man shrugs his shoulders once more and says "We're out of parmesan cheese."
Exiting the pizzeria, Rock approaches a green colored bench and sits on it. He places the pizza box at his side. Pulling out his cell phone, Rock exhales a sigh and says "Thanks for the assistance, Mussolini." Quickly pushing a few buttons on the ornery, metallic pad, Rock waits several seconds, before looking at the slightly cloudy sky in relief. "Michigan?" Rock speaks into the phone.
Sitting on a lawn chair on the nearby beach, a half-finished glass of 'Bloody Murder' on the sand next to him, dressed in a white buttoned, collared leisure shirt, dark blue slacks held up by a black, leather belt, Dutch, barefoot, raises an eyebrow and says "What?" Frowning anxiously and looking left and right, Rock says "It's the Emperor." Dutch laughs and asks "Does he have new clothes? Look, Rock…" Reclining on his lawn chair, Dutch continues "I'm drinking a cocktail that is genuinely three parts gin, six parts tomato juice, and is drizzled on with black vinegar and wasabi sauce. I don't even know how I'm keeping it down. Anyway, what's up?"
Smiling in relief, almost yelling out 'finally', Rock answers with a question "Has our friend with the barbecue sauce stain showed up?" Dutch thinks for a few seconds, and then, realizing, says "I'm at the beach, can't say. Don't figure, he said he'd be at mission control in…um…about half-an-hour. Why?" Thinking of an appropriate way to phrase things, Rock pauses for a bit and then says "Remember that friend of the guy with the stain? The guy with the littering?" "Once more, in actual English," Dutch requests, growing annoyed.
Rolling his eyes, Rock tries again "The one who gave Spartacus two thumbs down." Thinking for a second, Dutch says "Uh…the one with the bump on the head?" Remembering back to Trung's kidnapping, Rock slowly nods and says "Yeah…him." "Well why didn't you say that at first, instead of talking about this littering bullshit? What about him?" Dutch asks, reaching for his glass of Bloody Murder, both a fork and a straw in the cup. As Dutch skewers a pit-less green olive and devours it, Rock answers "Our friend with the stain said he was buckshot, when I just found out he is birdshot. Low caliber." Dutch laughs and says "That made no damned sense but I think I know what you mean. Alright, I'll head back, and we'll talk and walk."
Listening to music on her MP3 player, headphones on, Revy rocks her head to "Go to Hell" by English heavy metal band Motörhead. She is seated on the bed and partially watching, on TV, the white English subtitles of the Vietnamese film"Hà Nội Trong Mắt Ai (Hanoi In One's Eye)."A knock reverberates from the door, followed by another. Barely hearing the second knock, Revy pauses her MP3 player and approaches the door. She grabs a Cutlass by the TV cabinet with her left hand and reaches for the doorknob with her right. Turning the knob, Revy slowly opens the door, only to immediately return her Cutlass to the cabinet as Rock enters the room with the box of pizza.
"Two slices of cheese pizza and garlic bread," Rock announces. Flooding with annoyance, Revy says "I asked for freaking pepperoni and knots." "They were out of pepperoni and garlic knots," Rock retorts. Raising an eyebrow and looking at Rock as if just grew a third head, she asks "How can they be out of pepperoni and garlic knots?" Shrugging his shoulders, Rock says "They were out of pepperoni and garlic knots." Opening the box of pizza, Revy sits down on the bed and rests the box on her lap. Pulling out a slice, she takes a bite, chews it, stares at the sky with a blank look on her face, and then swallows, saying "It tasted as it looked. Like it came out of Bigfoot's asshole. Where's the parmesan cheese?"
"They were out of parmesan cheese," Rock blankly replies, almost in a mocking tone. Giving a Rock a pissed off look, she says "They were out of parmesan cheese. Riiight." Now restraining a laugh, Rock replies "They were out of parmesan cheese." Cracking a bemused smile, Revy says "Hey dickhead, there's still some vodka left. Get the glasses too." "Yes ma'am," Rock mutters with a smirk, reaching for the half empty bottle of Stolichnaya vodka in the bathroom. Revy asks "Didn't get anything for yourself?" Rock grimaces and tilts his head left and right. He says "They didn't even have menus." "What kind of fuckhead pizzeria was that?" Revy blurts out, as Rock pours full two shot glasses. Restraining a smile, Rock cheekily answers "I don't know, guess Mussolini couldn't make the trains run on time after all." Revy raises her shoulders and says "I don't get it." "Eh, you had to be there."
As he watches Revy chew on garlic bread washed down with vodka, Rock collects his thoughts and says "By the way…the guy at the pizzeria, I found out something." Revy pays attention and says "Yeah?" "Marty lied to us," Rock blurts out. Shrugging her shoulders, Revy asks "Yeah? Bout what? How would he know? Is Marty's general making shitty cheese pies on the side?" "Trung. The guy that Marty made us…rescue," Rock answers, folding his arms and seating himself on the bed. Annoyed, Revy yells out "Hey dipshit, you plan on telling me or you rather just speak in crossword hints all day?" Rubbing his forehead and pouting his cheeks, Rock nervously says "He said Trung was so high up in the Tổng Cục Tình Báo that he might as well have orbited the earth. Well, I spoke with the guy in the pizzeria, and went on this rant over how a supply clerk robbed him, and then he mentioned how Trung, the guy the secret police were out to arrest, is…was…just a supply clerk. I'm confused…why would Marty lie about that? It's really strange."
Gazing in deep thought at a piece of roasted garlic bread, her right hand slightly stained in grease, Revy calmly says "That guinea is arriving any minute now. We'll ask him when he shows up. You should tell Dutch and Benny while you still have time." Rock nods and says "I already called Dutch but I didn't tell him any details. The two of us are going to go for a smoke when he gets back." Someone knocks on the door. From behind it, Dutch says "It's your boss. Rock, you there?" Rock turns to Revy and says "See ya. Stay safe." Revy snorts and says "Yea, food poisoning ain't nothing to fuck with."
As Rock opens the door to Dutch, who is now wearing grey sandals, the latter says "Revy, you coming too. Benny is reserving my seat at the beach. I think it is best if we all are equally up to speed." Revy waves her boss off and says "Rock gave me a teaser, so I think I know what is going on. Besides, someone's gotta hold down the fort, for when Marty crawls in here." Dutch nods and says "Alright, you do that. Rock, with me."
Walking on the sidewalk, heading toward the Nha Trang beach, Dutch pulls out a pack of Natural American Spirit and fishes out a cigarette. He is noticeably limping with each step of his left leg. Placing the cigarette in his mouth as a nearby Vietnamese bicyclist almost gets sideswiped by a quickly braking white van, Dutch says "Woah, that was a close one." Pulling out a lighter as Rock pulls out a pack of Craven A's, Dutch lights his cigarette and asks "You smoke Craven's now?" Cigarette in mouth, Rock shakes his head and says "Nah, I let Revy have my last pack of American Spirit."
As Rock pulls out a lighter of his own and lights his cigarette, Dutch takes a drag, exhales, wedges his cigarette in his right hand. With the traffic light turning green and the pedestrians stirring to movement, Dutch and Rock begin to cross the street. As they cross, Dutch takes another drag and says "By the way. Buckshot and birdshot are not calibers for ammunition. They refer to the size of the pellets in the rounds." Rock nods, exhales smoke, and says "Yeah I know. Revy explained that to me. I just assumed it's the same as the word caliber." Dutch nods to himself and says "Ask her for the definition later."
Reaching the bar that they visited several days ago, where Revy got drunk off rice wine, Rock and Dutch walk up to the square shaped bar and place their elbows on the counter. A Chinese bartender with bushy black hair and thin, gray framed glasses turns to them and says in Vietnamese-accented English "Hey. How was the cocktail?" Dutch cracks a weak smile, removes his sunglasses, and says "Disgusting, but that's because I was stupid enough to drink gin and wasabi sauce. Not your fault." The Chinese bartender smiles meekly and says "Sorry, that's just how everyone was taught in bartending school. That drink was very standard." Dutch nods and says "Yeah I know. I had a Bloody Mary before and was getting nostalgic, but of course that was just vodka, tomato juice, and a celery stick. Guess I got too adventurous." The Chinese bartender waves his right hand and says "Hey, I can make that if you want. Any drink combination, how you want it." Dutch removes his elbows off the counter and shakes his head, giving a slightly discomforted look. He says "Nah, I just want something to wash the taste down. Do you have any juices, pop…anything interesting?"
The Chinese bartender thinks for a second, snaps his fingers, and then says "Alright, we recently got some fresh coconut from the market. Usually, we use them for cocktails. I can make a hole in them and put a straw through the hole. You want? It will cost as much as a glass of regular juice." Dutch shrugs his shoulders and says "Alright. One." The Chinese bartender turns to Rock and says "And you?" Rock quickly replies "Cold sake. Chilled." The Chinese bartender turns to face the shelf, and turns around, saying "We only got Hakutsuru." Rock smiles and points at the bartender, saying "Yeah that be great." The Chinese bartender says "35,500 Dong for the juice, 85,500 for the sake."
As Rock and Dutch place their cigarettes in their mouths and fish out Dong notes, the bartender gets to work preparing their drinks. Placing the money on the counter, Dutch and Rock watch as the bartender collects the money and gives two 500 Dongs notes to Rock and Dutch, respectively. As Rock and Dutch both pocket the money and take drags from their cigarettes, Rock motions to Dutch and says "You now got me nostalgic. I haven't had sake in months."
Seated on a nearby lawn chair, shirtless and slightly wet, dressed in red and green lotus patterned swimming trunks and brown sandals, Benny waves at Rock and Dutch, can of Hanoi Beer in left hand. Approaching Benny, drinks in their right hands and cigarettes in their left, the two seat themselves on the empty lawn chair that Dutch formerly occupied. Taking a sip of sake, Rock comments "Drinking sake out of a tumbler glass…interesting." "Where's Revy?" Benny inquires, rubbing the can of beer across his forehead. Putting on his sunglasses, coconut in right hand and cigarette in left, Dutch says "She's holding the fort, and she got the abridged version. So, it's just us men here at the war council." Raising an eyebrow, Benny says "Well that escalated."
"It's not guaranteed," Rock blurts out, taking a drag of his cigarette "just I found out that Marty's been lying about a detail that he would normally have no reason to lie about." "What's up?" Benny asks, leaning forward. Leaning forward as well, Rock says in a quieter volume "Trung, that guy we kidnapped for Marty a few days ago? Marty said that he is, was, something…high ranking in the secret police." Dutch nods and says "I fondly remember Mr. Zappala telling us how Trung became our second moon." Rock smirks and says "Yeah, that. Well, I just found out from a local that Trung was some low rank supply clerk for the secret police. That he was the guy that takes inventory for the equipment that they use in actual raids."
"The very same equipment we wore during the Van Thirith raid," Dutch interrupts, as Rock and Benny nod in surprised agreement. Sipping on beer, Benny says "Your war friend Roscoe…Roscoe Ward…he got the equipment to Marty. It didn't sound like Roscoe broke into the secret police armory…I mean if he could do that, he should be working for Thailand's intelligence agency, not selling surfboards to stoned tourists."
"So you don't think Roscoe stole the equipment," Dutch says to Benny, partially as a question. Benny shakes his head and says "Nah…too risky and it makes no sense. Thailand and Vietnam are separated by Cambodia. I infer more than a few unhappy memories in that country between you and Roscoe." Sipping on his straw, Dutch asks "Do you think Trung sold the equipment to Roscoe?" Rock laughs and says "If he did, that would make for one hell of an ironic anecdote." Benny shrugs his shoulders and says "Doubt it was a direct sale. I reckon they divvied up the pieces of the equipment along different smuggling routes, having it pass through a couple of hands. If Trung had any brains, he would do it that way…to avoid it coming back to him. Ironically the gear went straight back into Vietnam anyway." "Someone besides Trung could have stolen the equipment, someone else within the secret police," Rock interrupts. Benny nods and says "True, there's that."
Taking a long sip of coconut water, Dutch says "I'm going to give Roscoe a call on an outside line. Hopefully he doesn't hang up twenty times in a row. Any other ideas?"
The three enter a short period of silence, as a seagull caws over their heads, shitting on a sky-blue colored parasol. Noticing it, Rock says "Well that's a pleasant sight." Benny smirks and says "That umbrella got good luck." Raising an eyebrow, Dutch asks "Eh?" Cracking a weak smile, Benny playfully chirps "Don't worry about it."
After another pause, Benny says with a lack of confidence "Well…I…usually in these cases, when something like this is unexplained…you got to either follow the money or find the woman." Smirking, Dutch says "And since Pattaya beach hookers consider themselves too classy for Marty's Bolognese-flavored kielbasa, I would keep my eyes on the money." Chuckling, Benny says "That…very well said. Astute. Now where does money factor into this?"
"Dutch…" Rock mutters, in deep thought "what is the status of our payments for the previous two assignments? The money transfers I mean." Dutch turns to Rock and asks "You mean did we get paid for the jobs?" Rock silently nods, scratching his chin. Rubbing the back of his bald head, Dutch says "Interesting now that you mention it. The money from the first job was apparently 'enroute' to our Panamanian banker's intermediaries, as soon as we all headed for the Van Thirith dock raid. Yet, it somehow took until two days ago for our banker to tell us that he received the money. The money from the second job? Arrived yesterday, barely twelve hours after the first deposit, despite the second job happening two days after the first, and despite Zappala saying that the money was enroute while my leg was getting patched up. Which may mean bullshit, maybe some Panamanian banking holiday that I don't know about, or it may mean that Zappala didn't actually send the money when he said he did. Given what Rock and Revy saw with those carpets and that plastic wrap in the bathroom at the safe house, someone was playing some angle. Was it Marty?"
Gesturing his glass of sake at Dutch, taking a long gulp, Rock swallows and says "I think I mentioned before…Tuyết's attitude towards Revy and I swayed back and forth during the two days we were in the safe house. Granted, Revy went ballistic during day one, and a violent Vietnamese hit squad showed up unannounced on day two, but it's those carpets that still make me worry. Who stuffs carpets under a sink? Revy herself was 50/50 on it. Maybe it was just in case someone died and needed to get buried fast, but…still."
"You thinking about calling it quits and heading back home?" Benny inquires, sipping on his beer. Dutch shrugs his shoulders and says "We already made enough for us to stay comfortable until at least March, assuming we get a dry spell with assignments, which I doubt since Thinh is probably going to hire us. Even with factoring food, rent, repairs, doctor's bills, we will be fine. I am perfectly fine calling it quits here and heading home. In fact, this has been one of most profitable weeks since I started this courier company." Rubbing his forehead, Dutch adds "I am going to confront Marty. If my concerns aren't assayed, we are leaving for Roanapur."
"Got it boss," Benny blurts out. "Same," Rock adds, as the three of them simultaneously drink to a successful round table negotiation. Awkwardly swallowing the sake, Rock gags and says "Time we head back before Marty and Revy get left in the same room. Not like Revy needs a reason."
Dressed in a horizontally-striped blue and white t-shirt with a buttoned collar, slightly ripped jeans, and grey sneakers, Martin Zappala enters the front lobby of the motel. Behind him, Lloyd follows Zappala's lead, dressed in a dark blue and red checkered, collared, and buttoned shirt, light blue jeans, brown tennis shoes, and a grayish-blue felt ascot cap. As he also enters the front lobby, Lloyd removes his cap and holds it in his left hand. The two nod at the manager at the front desk, who acknowledges the presence of the two Italian-Canadian gangsters. Tossing his newspaper aside, the manager collects his thoughts as the two gangsters pause and wait. After a slightly tense moment, the manager asks "How much longer?" Marty cracks an annoyed smirk and says "Soon. Very soon. Take it easy." The manager catapults a distressed look toward Marty, coldly saying "I want them gone by the twelfth." "Monday?" Lloyd calmly asks. Pausing for a few seconds, the manager partially commits to a nod, saying "Yes. Monday." Slightly annoyed and still smiling, Marty says in a tense manner "You'll get your wish. Think of it…as my early Viet New Years gift to you."
As the manager slowly returns to his newspaper, Marty and Lloyd turn their attention to the staircase leading to the second floor. Traversing the steps, the two approach room 22. "Give me some space here," Marty says, as Lloyd backs off and presses his back against the opposite wall. Shrugging his shoulders, Marty knocks on the door, saying "Hey Rock. Rocky boy. It's your favorite Polish Santa!"
Inside the room, Revy, dressed in a black tank top and her dark blue tracksuit bottom, MP3 player headphones in her ears and MP3 player in her left hand, head bangs to "Wrathchild" by English heavy metal band Iron Maiden. She completely fails to register Marty's presence. Waiting a few more seconds, Marty knocks four times on the door, and then yells "C'mon Rocky! I know you Japs are a little eccentric when it comes to the fine art of pornography but please wedge the tentacle-shaped dildo out your ass and get to work! There's a time and place for that!" Still, Revy fails to register anything aside from the music in her ears. After several seconds with no response, Marty proceeds to bang his fist repeatedly on the door and yells "You better open this door Rocky Japboa, or I'm gonna huff and I'm gonna puff and I'm gonna give you a skull fucking so deep, the memories of your grandparents get knocked up!"
Suddenly, the door knob turns as Marty cracks a smile, only to grow slightly nervous as the barrel of Revy's Cutlass presses into Marty's forehead. "Oh shit!" Lloyd exclaims, lifting up his shirt and pulling a Glock 19 out of a hip holster. Aiming the Glock at Revy with his right hand and holding his cap in his left hand, Lloyd steadies his aim as Revy slightly shifts to her left, somewhat using Marty as a human shield. Snarling at Marty, aiming with her left hand, Revy says "If you fucking yell at me like that again, then I'm gonna send a bullet through your coked-up skull and fuck your brains with a strap-on." Raising his arms in surrender, his arms just at level with his shoulders, Marty mutters "I can't tell whether I'm freaked out or turned on." As he starts laughing, Revy rolls her eyes and says "Hey Lloyd, pull your gun away and I'll do the same." Marty motions at Lloyd and says "Holster it. She ain't that retarded." As Lloyd holsters his Glock, Revy darts an annoyed smirk at Marty and says "You're pushing it again…"
She lowers her Cutlass and says "Dutch and the others are out. Why you asking for Rock?" Marty smiles and raises his shoulders, saying "Why not, he's a lovable guy. Needs a haircut though. Looks like a mop head." Revy darts back "Nice beard. Trying to become the first living Chia-Pet?" Tilting his head to the side, Marty asks "Are…you missing a tooth?" As Lloyd chuckles to himself, Revy rolls her eyes, tilts the palm of her hands upwards, and says "Knocked loose when I crashed your SUV, back in that city. Forgot its name."
"What's going on here?" Dutch bellows as he climbs onto the second floor. Benny and Rock pass Dutch and flank his left, as Marty says "Nothing. I came here to chat about the last job I got for you." He heads into Revy's room, only to be followed by Lloyd. Dutch, Rock, and Benny crowd through the door and find Lloyd standing by the opposite wall, hands cupped and in front of his waist, cap in hand. Seating herself on the bed, Revy crosses her legs and places her Cutlass on the bed sheet. Marty stands in front of the powered down TV. Rock seats himself to the left of Revy and Dutch and Benny stand in the wall opposite of Lloyd, both of them leaning their backs against the wall.
"Is it safe to turn this TV on? I'm not gonna get some tentacle shit, right?" Marty asks, his right index finger hovering in front of the power button. "Don't be a wise ass," Revy commands as Marty pushes the power button. The TV screen powers on to play a music video of "Ông Lái Đò" by Hùng Cường. The video shows a Vietnamese man in a purple suit solemnly singing into a microphone on a dimly lit stage, with a drummer and a bassist behind him.
Turning toward Black Lagoon Company, Marty says "Alright...let's state the obvious here. Anyone shoots anyone, and we all are going to get imperially fucked. As in police will come for us. So…no one do anything stupid. Just saying." Dutch leans forward and says "I take it your military friend is not out there to save your ass." Marty cracks a weak smile and mumbles "Heh, heh. He has an image to maintain." "Why did you lie about Trung Thanh Hoàng?" Rock suddenly blurts out, making a power play in this tense standoff. Smiling to himself, scratching his beard, Marty raises both his eyebrows and says "Hmm." "Are you gonna say something?" Dutch groans under his breath, loud enough for Marty to barely hear. Flashing a shit-eating grin at Dutch, Marty says in an elaborate, almost grating manner "I don't know what you found out. I'm just a little curious as to what you got to say. Please, enlighten this hairy bastard."
Calmly speaking out, Benny pushes his glasses inward "We're talking about how you embellished Trung's status as a high-ranking agent. When he is just a supply clerk. And there is the matter of how you delivered money to our banker in suspicious intervals." "And," Rock blurts out "the carpets that were in Vibol's house. In the bathroom. Two carpets. I find that number suspicious. But like you said, don't do anything stupid. So it seems like the smart thing to do is for us to head back home."
His left eye twitching, Dutch angrily groans "Rock, I make that decision, not you. Clear?" Grimacing, Rock extends his arms out in surrender and says "Clear sorry, won't happen again." Stepping forward to Marty as Lloyd stiffens up in anticipation, Dutch points at Marty and says "But Rock is saying what I'm saying. So is Benny. If we don't get answers, we're leaving. You are bad for business."
Tapping his right foot, Marty asks "Where did you hear about Trung being a supply clerk?" Smirking, Dutch says "We heard it through the grapevine." "And the irregular money deposits and the carpets?" Marty inquires. Still staring at Dutch, who turns to Rock and gives him the green light, Rock turns to Marty and says "I found the carpets myself. And the money transfer thing…we figured out today."
Shrugging his shoulders, Marty masks his anxiety and casually weaves a response "The irregular money deposits…I delayed because I opened myself to the not-so-fucking-remote possibility that any four of you fine gentlemen get the plug pulled. If you die, I don't pay you. I didn't try to make that happen. I just kept the option on the table. No offense." Dutch angrily interrupts "That wasn't the terms we agreed on, just making it clear. You hire us, you hire the company, not four individual contractors." Marty waves his hands out in defeat and says "Okay, okay. I get it, that was wrong of me. And as for the carpets, same thing. You die, you become a piece of meat. Maybe, I don't know, maybe it be better for those living and involved if, say, knock on wood, someone bit it and the secret police would have a body to poke at with a stick? Again, just keeping the option on the table."
As Marty glances nervously at Black Lagoon Company, all four of them glancing at each other with blank looks on their faces, Lloyd adjusts his right hand closer to his pistol, his moustache twitching. A drop of sweat trailing down Marty's cheek, Marty pleads "Look, I came here to tell you this. I was gonna say everything before you started with jumper cables on the stugotz. I mean, I paid all of you in full. Like I promised. And I didn't pay cheap."
The silence is broken by the sound of Dutch's sandals digging into the carpet floor. Arcing his head back, Dutch says "I believe that you ain't going to screw with us through the duration of our employment, so that's good enough for me. Just as long as you remember, I don't believe in the whole 'dead equals no paycheck' thing. And until the pay for the next job is in our deposit box, we aren't moving an inch. And you still haven't responded to why you lied about Trung."
Marty scratches the back of his head and scrambles for an answer. Stumbling onto one, he asks "I like to hype shit up sometimes, it's the coke. Is it really that fucking important? Can we get to work now? I mean, I'm going to pay you the money, as always. I'm clearly good with that." Dutch shrugs his shoulders and says "Sure, as long as you pay us before we move out. What's the job?" "That's the fucking problem…" Marty begins, scratching his right cheek "I don't know." "What?!" Revy suddenly blurts out, an incredulous look on her face. Grimacing, Marty says "Yeah, I don't know where to move from here. My military connect has gotten a lot quieter. When I asked him for details about that hit squad that went after you two in Vibol's house, rest in peace, he got more evasive than O.J. Simpson. I remember you, Revy, mentioned that there were at least six hitmen that were offed, along with Vibol and Trí. My military connect only gave me the details that were released to the press, which gave me ugatz on that hit squad. As for Trung, I keep trying to schedule a chance to speak with him but Tuyết keeps saying that the safe house is being watched from a nearby shack and that she needs time to assess the threat, as she claims. So basically I have no fucking idea where to go from here. That's why I came to see you, Rock, because I know, through the grapevine, that you have a habit of making something out of nothing. And anyone else here got any bright ideas, I'm all ears. I'm sure I don't have to pay you for that, right?"
"Interesting," Dutch mutters under his breath, crossing his arms. Rock, meanwhile, glares at Benny, completely stumped, scrambling for a thought. Snapping his fingers, Benny draws attention and says "I reckon we can't go any more forward without knowing what you are trying to achieve here. What is the end result with all these jobs?" As Dutch, Revy, and Rock nod in agreement, Marty solemnly mutters "True…", pauses, and then says "The first job was to clear out Thinh's number one competitor and pin the job on the secret police, who in turn would immediately pin it on Trung and his brother, as I mentioned a while before. The second job was to take Trung and get information out of him, as I also mentioned a while before, while at the same time putting more heat on Chù Thanh Hoàng."
Sprawling herself on the bed, her arms behind her head, Revy says "So it sounds like getting some details out of Trung is the obvious next step to take." Stretching her back, she continues "Ask your goons to raid the shack. What's the problem?" "The problem is if the people in the shack got the secret cops on speed dial. Honestly, I feel like there's egg shells everywhere." "So send some other people that the secret clowns won't be expecting. C'mon we already clipped a few of them," Revy counters, annoyed. Turning to Lloyd, Marty asks "Eddie Ventilation has a car here, right?" Lloyd nods and says "Yeah." Turning to Lagoon Company, Marty says "Phan Thiết. We going to Phan Thiết…three-hour drive."
"Aren't you forgetting something?" Dutch asks, slightly annoyed. Marty walks to within a foot away from Dutch, leans forward, and says "Your momma must have dropped you out the fucking window if you think I'm going to pay 25 grand just for you four to 'talk' with some pencil-neck gookosaurus rex. If Trung has something to say that can make the ball move forward, and we can action on it, then you got yourself the 25 grand. If not, you can go home. Sounds good?" "We already have the choice to go home," Dutch calmly mutters, unfazed. Smirking, Marty says "Yeah? And leave 25 grand on the table? You mercs making fucking peanuts literally kill for pay days like this. How often do you get jobs like this? Eh? Tell me. I'd bet you'd change your tune if your boat sunk and you have to spend every fucking dime you own just to get back on the water. I don't care what part of world you live, you don't pass up these opportunities." Whispering under his breath, Marty slyly adds "And I bet your 'employees' wouldn't like missing out either…"
Sighing under his breath, Dutch thinks for a few seconds, and then says "Okay, but if I see you, or anyone associated with you, pull something, we are most likely gone." "Deal," Marty says, and then adds "We leave in half an hour. I got to make some calls and grab something to eat."
A shirtless, skinny, slightly tanned-skinned Western European looking man in his 50s, with long, unkempt black hair and a scruffy goatee, wearing grey sweat pants stained in urine and worn grey sandals, standing on a sidewalk in front of an alleyway with a green dumpster, yells out in a drunken, slurred, New York City accent "THEREEE…NO VICTIMS! ONLY…SURVUHVUH…VIVORS!" Spotting Fred Viapiano walking across the street, dressed in a white collared shirt that is patterned in small, black fleur-de-lis, black jeans, and white tennis shoes, the mobster looking at his stainless-steel watch, the drunk yells at him "IF IT HUUURTS...MAKE IT HURT…" As Viapiano pauses and stares at the idiot, a Western European looking man jumps in front of Viapiano, appearing ready to shield him. The man, in his early 50s, sporting wavy grayish black hair, dressed in a light blue dress shirt and dark brown slacks, gently pushes Viapiano behind him as the drunk points a green beer bottle at the two and yells "MORE!"
The bodyguard shakes his head and turns to Viapiano, speaking to him in flabbergasted Neapolitan "P'cche (Why)?" Viapiano pats the man on his right shoulder and says "P'cche no (Why not)? Scugnizzo, ignore him Pasquale. We got a deadline." Pasquale shrugs his shoulders and lets Viapiano take point, as the two approach the front entrance of the Bougainville Trade Company. As Pasquale presses a buzzer in front of a steel door heading into an inconspicuous six floor office building, the building made of reddish-brown bricks layered between glass windows that are covered in elegant, sharp, black window bars, the drunk yells out "GO AND GET FUCKED BY THE U.S. MARINE…WHORE!"
Entering the apartment, the two are immediately swarmed by an Eastern European looking man with short black hair and round cheeks, dressed in a grey suit, white undershirt, grey slacks, and a black tie, and a Central Asian looking man with short black hair, a large wide nose, and a skinny face, dressed in a grey suit, white undershirt, black slacks, and a black and green striped tie. The two Hotel Moscow henchmen push the two 'Ndrangheta gangsters to a wall and begin to pat them down. The room itself is empty aside from two blank, wooden doors and a metallic elevator opposite the entrance.
After the Central Asian gangster clears Viapiano, finding no weapons, the Eastern European gangster retrieves a tiny Glock 26 from Pasquale's ankle holster and pockets the pistol, saying in deep-voiced and somewhat Russian-accented English "You get this back when you leave." Pasquale gives a glance at the gangster as if he barely understands, as the Central Asian gangster says in slightly high-pitched Russian "Poidiom, davai (We going, come on)."
The Central Asian man presses a button to summon the elevator as the Eastern European man keeps his eyes on Viapiano and Pasquale. As the elevator reaches the ground floor, the two 'Ndrangheta gangsters herd inside, the walls a slightly dirty grey. The Eastern European man coldly says "Face the wall," which Viapiano and Pasquale awkwardly do. Viapiano taps Pasquale's shoulder and says "Trust me." The Central Asian gangster quickly presses a floor button, floor five, as the Eastern European man placates "Until the elevator stops, keep facing wall. Security measure, is all."
A few more nervous seconds, and the elevator rumbles to a halt. The Central Asian man chuckles and says in Kazakhstani-accented English "You can turn around now." Viapiano and Pasquale quickly turn around as the two Hotel Moscow thugs escort them into a plain hallway with beige walls and a wooden floor, the hallway peppered with wooden doors. The Central Asian man takes point and leads the two Italians past a few doors, as the Eastern European man casually watches their rear. Reaching a wooden door on the right, the Central Asian man knocks once on the door and yells "Eta ya! Ivan 'Razal'! (It's me, Ivan 'Razal')." As he pushes the door open, Ivan enters a board room with a wooden table long enough for four people on each of the elongated sides. On the opposite end from the door, Balalaika, dressed in her red business suit, sits on a black wheeled stool, her back facing a blank wall with a barred window. To the left of the window is a white erase board with a couple of colored markers and marker erasers on a platform. To Balalaika's right, Chang, dressed in a gray vest, white undershirt, black tie tucked inside the vest, a black leather belt, and dark grey slacks, and an unidentified slightly dark-skinned Chinese man in his late 40s, sporting black, mop-top shaped hair and a thick moustache, dressed in a light blue and white checkered, buttoned dress shirt, a black leather belt, and dark blue slacks, sit patiently with their arms crossed. Opposite Chang and to Balalaika's near left, a somewhat dark-skinned East African looking man in his early 40s, sporting a round, protruding forehead, a pointy cleft chin, thick curly black hair, a thin moustache, and a goatee, dressed in a dark blue and white pinstriped suit, a white dress shirt with light green checkered squares, a dark blue tie, black pants, a black belt with a titanium belt buckle, and amber-colored thin framed glasses with thick, egg shaped lenses, sits nervously with a few papers in his hands.
To the East African man's left, across from the unidentified Chinese man, is a bald, dark skinned West African looking man in his mid-30s, sporting curly mutton chops, a moustache, and a goatee, wearing a light-gold collared, buttoned silk leisure shirt, a brown leather belt, and black slacks. As the West African looking man catches a glance at Ivan, Balalaika smoothly says "Prinecitei eih sudha (Bring them here), Razumov." Ivan Razumov motions at Viapiano and Pasquale. As the two enter the board room, Razumov chuckles and says "V liftei, starik pachti shtani obasral ahahaha (In elevator, the old man almost shat his pants ahahaha)."
Viapiano stands himself to the right of the unidentified Chinese man, with Pasquale taking the seat to the right of Viapiano. Fred extends his hand at the West African man and says "Federico Viapiano." The West African man cracks a bemused smile and, shaking Viapiano's hand, says in a Nigerian accent "Akinwale Nweke." Viapiano then turns to the East African man and extends his hand. The East African man cheerfully smiles and firmly shakes Viapiano's hand, saying in a Tanzanian accent "Ahmed Massawe. It is a pleasure."
Smiling comfortably at Ahmed, realizing that Ahmed is completely out of his element, Viapiano quickly shakes Balalaika's and Chang's hands without very little eye contact. The unidentified Chinese man smirks and blurts out in a Cantonese accent "Apparently this shirt makes me invisible." Chang places his right hand on his associate's left shoulder and says, with a slight tinge of annoyance, "Chun Kit Ng, meet Viapiano. Viapiano, Ng."
Noticing that Ivan has yet to leave the room, Balalaika sighs and says "Ivan, mozhit bit para vam uhodit (Ivan, time to leave, perhaps)?" Ivan takes his queue and says "Prostiteh (Forgive me)" before departing, closing the door behind him. Taking a quick survey of those around her, she says "Very well. I am to understand that you want to help revive my casino project. I am assuming that you all want a stake in it." Viapiano smirks and blurts out "Well of course, we ain't Ukrainians here. We like to grow our shit and eat it too." Balalaika breaks out into a minor chuckle as the rest stare in a mix of confusion and disinterest. Akinwale gently knocks once on the table with his right fist and says "Just to clarify, Mr. Massawe here and myself are concerned with supplying materials for construction. Mr. Fajuyi, my boss, has no interest in investing capital into your casino."
As Balalaika prepares to speak, Chun interrupts her and says "And as a gesture of goodwill to Mr. Fajuyi, us…Mr. Chang, myself, and Mr. Viapiano, will not hand you any cash unless you first agree with Mr. Nweke's and Mr. Massawe's proposal." Glaring coldly at Ng, and then at Chang, Balalaika calmly turns to Mr. Massawe and asks "What do you have for me?"
Ahmed warmly smiles and says "Of course Miss…Balalaika is it? Is that name Greek? Georgian? Regardless, as the Chief Operating Officer of Zanzibar Tradex, I am prepared to offer you a generous price on prime Nigerian cement, gravel, sand, steel, and concrete bricks. I assure you that these are high quality building materials that, if properly utilized by a savvy crew, would facilitate the construction of a building capable of resisting the monsoon season. Which, I am sure is a great concern."
Balalaika stares at the sheet, her eyes following dotted lines crossing the middle of the paper, connecting individual items to a price and a rate. Placing the piece of paper down, Balalaika turns to Massawe, pauses for a few seconds to collect her thoughts, and says "Alright. Two questions, for now. First one…assuming Zanzibar Tradex is actually based in Zanzibar, why are you selling me Nigerian…sand?" Her voice trails into confusion and disgust as the word 'sand' escapes her lips. Ahmed nervously smiles and quickly says "Oh, we, as in my company, are an import/export business based on Zanzibar Island, in Tanzania. We primarily specialize in purchasing products from Tanzania, Mozambique, and Madagascar and matching those products with Southeast Asian consumers, as well as the reverse." Stumbling along his words after he realized that he spoke himself into a corner, Ahmed reluctantly divulges "Um…in this scenario, Adelekan Heavy Industries sought us out on their own accord and asked that my company would serve as a go-between."
Glaring blankly at Massawe as the latter begins to sweat, almost amused with him, Balalaika presses on "I think my second question has been answered. Now, the vast majority of these items could be purchased in Thailand at a quarter of these prices. Perhaps a sixth." Pulling on his shirt collar to let air in, Ahmed nervously chuckles and says "Well…I would imagine that Mr. Fajuyi and myself would…um…negotiate…" Ahmed nervously turns around to Akinwale and mutters "Perhaps? Maybe?"
Nweke coldly says "No. We will not negotiate." Sighing under his breath, Nweke mutters in Yoruba "Ode buruku (damn idiot)." Placing his palm on his face, Akinwale slides it down to his chin and says "Ahmed, please excuse yourself." Confused, Ahmed raises an eyebrow at Akinwale and asks "Are you sure?" Akinwale menacingly stares Ahmed down, to which Ahmed embarrassingly smiles and announces "Please excuse me, I must relieve myself."
As Ahmed exits the room and gets escorted by Ivan to the bathroom, Akinwale turns to Balalaika and, gesturing slightly with his hands, says "Okay, basically Adelekan Heavy Industries is going to sell that undersized sweat gland the building material, and the sweat gland is then going to sell it to you. If you wonder why I brought him here, it is because you will call him if you need more materials. He will then call Adelekan Heavy Industries out in Nigeria to send the material to Zanzibar Tradex. The materials will leave Zanzibar Island on cargo ship and arrive in Roanapur docks. You need even more? Then call again. Whole process takes several weeks for each shipment."
Balalaika frowns to herself, glances at the paper on the table, and asks "Is Mr. Fajuyi a major shareholder in Adelekan Heavy Industries? Or Zanzibar Tradex? What is his stake in either of the two companies? " Akinwale folds his arms on the table and leans forward, saying "I don't like those questions. I will not answer them. Now, are we in agreement?" "One final inquiry," Balalaika immediately responds, tapping her fingers on the piece of paper. After a quick pause, she says "The transportation between Nigeria and Tanzania alone is a logistical nightmare, not to mention the shipping between Tanzania and Thailand, which will overlap on piracy hotspots. Who is bears responsibility for any material loss in transit?"
Akinwale smirks and says "Fair question. Between Nigeria and Zanzibar, it is Massawe's problem. Between Zanzibar and Roanapur, it is your problem. The cost of transportation has been factored into those rates…rates are subject to fluctuation if transportation costs increase." "What?" Balalaika blurts out, annoyed, almost enraged. Nweke continues "As soon as the ship leaves Zanzibar, the materials are considered yours. So if they get damaged, it's between you and whoever Massawe hired to ship the stuff." "Excuse me," Balalaika blurts out, now greatly annoyed "I am paying for transportation but Mr. Massawe is selecting the shipping company? I don't follow this logic."
Akinwale chuckles and says "That's why you should get very friendly with Ahmed and his boss. I don't know much about how he and his boss run that company, and honestly, I don't care. If Ahmed's boss is willing to let you select the shipping company, that's his business. Remember, if you don't take my deal, you don't get Mr. Chang's and Mr. Viapiano's investment in your casino. It's a…bundled package."
Balalaika glances once more at the piece of paper, zeroing in on the prices. "A bundled package, he says…" she mutters. Sighing, Balalaika partially resigns and says "I cannot believe I am about to buy imported sand. Very well, remove the bricks from this arrangement...I have my doubts that more than a quarter would arrive intact. We will source them locally. Do this and you may leave with my agreement." "Fine," Nweke sternly declares, as he and Balalaika shake hands. Climbing from his seat, Nweke says "I am going to see Massawe back to the airport. At this rate, he might think we are mobsters, ahaha." As Freddy, Pasquale, Chun, and Chang all share a chuckle with Nweke, Nweke adds "Oh I think it would be best to keep Massawe as oblivious of our more interesting activities as possible. I am just specifying."
As Akinwale exits the room, coming face to face with Massawe, and as Ivan escorts the two to the elevator, Viapiano turns to Balalaika and says "Alright, now for the real business at hand." Balalaika leans back on her chair, lifts a dirty ashtray with a few crushed cigarette butts off the floor, and places the ashtray on the table. She pulls a wrapped Corona Cuban cigar and a cigar cutter out of a pocket on her suit and says "I am listening."
"Spare change?" the shirtless homeless man begs, sitting on the ground, leaning on a dumpster, as Jodorovski, dressed in a blue and white horizontally stripped shirt and black cargo pants, rushes across the street toward the Bougainville Trade Company. As Mr. Massawe and Mr. Nweke exit the building, Vadim squeezes between them and yells "Eta ya (It's me)! Vadim Yakovlevich! Otrkoiteh lieft blyat (Open the elevator, fuck)!" Suddenly, Ivan Razumov grabs Vadim and says "Shto sluchilos (What happened)? Kapitan vediot peregavori (Captain is in talks)." Almost frantic, Vadim says "Ya nashol Vaynshteyn (I found Vaynshteyn). E Aslanov, e Garayev (And Aslanov, and Garayev). Ya dolzhen skazat Sofiye (I have to tell Sofiya). As Vadim tries to push Ivan away in an attempt to reach the elevators, Ivan again holds Vadim and says "Izveni bratak (Sorry brother). U menya yect prikazi (I have orders)." Fuming, Vadim swears "Ti zhayesh (You know), pashol ti na hui c vashimi prikazomi (sit on a dick with your orders)! Otpusti menya uzhe (Let me go already)!"
"Podazhdi (Wait). Po krai ni mirya chas (For at least an hour). Shto takoye vazhnoye (What is so important)?" Ivan replies, gently pushing Vadim back. Vadim shakes his head and yells "Suka vietnamski derzhit eih v pleni (Vietnamese bitch is holding them captive)! Geniral yebanuti ot vietnamskaya armiye (Fuckhead general from the Vietnamese army)!"