Chpater 13

The scattered remains of a meal over the table, Garcias pushes his plate away, saying something to the woman, then rising…

At last…

… and I move quickly, also standing.

Tossing my napkin onto the tabletop, I smile at Airhead. “Excuse me, my dear.” She blinks at my words, but nods as I turn for the washrooms. “I’ll just be a moment.”

As I stroll across, I scan the room.

Yes, Garcias is moving too.

In the bathrooms, I stand by the urinals and as Garcias enters, make as though I’m zipping up, giving him a perfunctory nod as I head for the basin, then make a show of washing my hands.

The mirror is a little unsettling: the dark hair and beard, even the eyes, of a stranger look back at me through spectacles I don’t need. But also in the reflection, Garcias, his back turned to me, ducks at the knee a little then settles…

… and as he splashes onto the enamel, staring into space… Before he registers I’m behind him, I lock one arm around his neck, leaving the other hand free to retrieve the knife from the back of my belt and slide it to his groin.

My mouth close by his ear, “For the avoidance of doubt, ‘l’lI let you finish because I don’t want to have to send my clothes to be laundered, but if you move at all, the knife right under your dick will have you sitting down to piss next time.”

Garcias, still holding future generations in his hands, jerks then winces. “Who the fuck are you? I’ll fucking have y…”

He gurgles as I tighten my arm, cutting off his air against the crease of my elbow. Then as I ease the pressure again, splutters for a moment.

“Shush. Be nice. This isn't a good time for you to get noisy. It might make me nervous and then my hand might slip. You wouldn't want that would you?” I nudge the blade upwards a trifle, nicking the skin.

“Want do you want? Has Vargas sent you? Is he the one that’s doing it? Trying for a take-over? Are you his assassin?”

“No, I’m nothing to do with Vargas. Although I’ll be paying him a visit too. And if I’d come as an assassin, you’d already be dead.”

“What then? If it's kidnap and a ransom, you have no chance. I have men out there...”

“Yes, I know about your men. Now, move. Turn, slowly and walk over to the basin.”

I shove him around, then forward and Garcias, hands clutching his groin, moves, very carefully to the washstand. I’m behind him, but he’s measuring my reflection with murder in his eyes.

“No, you don’t know me. You can let go of your dick now. But I still have the knife where it counts. Raise your right hand, slowly…”

With stubborn reluctance he raises the hand.

“Stretch it out more, towards the basin. Now close the fingers.”

I give the knife another nudge, just enough to keep his attention where I want it. Releasing my grip on his neck, I loop a pre-prepared zip-tie around his wrist, then around the faucet.

“Grip the faucet.”

He hisses, but I draw the loop tight.

“Now the other hand.”

He doesn’t move, so I do, again nicking delicate skin.

“Fuck! You bastard!”

“I see you’re not circumcised. Want to try for a late operation?”

Garcias hisses through his teeth. “I’m going to fucking…”

“Just do as you’re told. Hold the faucet. Both hands. Or you’ll be carrying your balls out in your hat.”

This time he obeys, and I lash both hands to the faucet, then add extra ties to be sure. The fingertips are turning red, but he’ll not be there too long.

“What’s this about? What do you want? Take the wallet if that’s what you’re after…”

“Shut the fuck up and listen. One warning, and you only get one. Do I have your attention?”

I have my knife right under his attention. He’s breathing heavily but doesn’t speak.

“You're going to close down your operations here…”

Garcias tries to whip around, but hand secured to the faucet, can’t. “Are you fucking joking? You’re not doing this to me. I have millions invested here. Why would I…?”

“Do I seem to you to be a man who is joking?”

His hands secured, I take the knife from his groin but set it to his neck instead. “You are going to close down your operations. You will release the women you already have, the boys too, and cancel the shipments for the ones planned or already en-route. You have one week.”

“I'm going to slit your fucking throat.”

With the tip of the knife, I tilt up his chin, making him look at himself in the mirror, then slowly, I draw the edge over his Adam’s apple, scoring the skin. A trickle of red mixes with beaded sweat. “I don't think you're in a position to negotiate. Do you?”

His face is mottled red and white, teeth gritted, eyes bulging.

I give him my best and brightest smile, then reaching down, deliberately fumble at his belt, unbuckling him and tugging at chinos and underwear, dragging them down.

His colour morphs to pasty. “No!”

“Calm down Mr Garcias. I'm not interested in that, but I'm leaving now.” He’s trembling. Whether it’s fear or fury or shame, or all three, I’m not sure.

“If you're careful,” I continue, “and take your time, you should able to break free of the zip ties. It’ll take you a few minutes, but you’ll be able to do it. If you shout for help, then the hotel staff are going to come in find you with your pants around your ankles looking as though you've been playing tie-me-up with the fairies. If I were you, I'd stay quiet. You’ve had your warning. I’m going now.”

“I'm gonna fucking gut you.”

“One week. One warning.”

“Get these fucking things off me!”

Despite my warning to be quiet, Garcias’ screams of fury carry through the door as I stroll back to the restaurant.

The noise obviously carries right through. As I amble my way through the dining room, the bodyguards suddenly stampede towards the bathrooms.

Then a sharp right and out through the service doors. Thirty seconds later I’m grinning as I lose myself in the crowds.

*****