Chapter 4

Chapter 4

New York. Halloween.

‘Who the hell are you?’ Ben Koenig said to the woman who’d slid into the seat next to him.

She had the physique of a long-distance runner and looked twice as miserable. She wore her makeup harsh. Thick mascara and a powdered face. If she added a green wig, she could have joined the trick-or-treaters as a Batman villain. She looked like she’d have been a mean cheerleader, the kind who laughed when the quarterback busted up his knee.

‘I’m your worst nightmare,’ she said.

‘You’re a dietician?’ Koenig replied.

‘Funny.’ She turned and faced a hipster at the computer opposite. Stared until he noticed, then kept staring. The hipster had intricate tattoos and a pubic beard. He wore a beanie hat and corduroy dungarees. Looked like every hipster everywhere. The kind of man who slept in a hammock. He’d been playing some sort of role-playing game, but he caved under the woman’s withering glare. He picked up his canvas man-bag and left without speaking.

A man immediately took his place. He was so overweight he walked like a duck. He stared at Koenig like he was a day-old doughnut.

Koenig checked out the rest of the internet café. The dynamics had changed. He hadn’t noticed, but no one new had entered for at least thirty minutes. It had been full a couple of hours ago. He’d had to wait for a computer terminal. Now it was almost empty.

Another guy was sitting at a terminal next to the door. A hulking, beetle-browed man with a flat nose and asymmetrical ears. Looked like he’d taken a few punches over the years. He hadn’t even gone to the pretence of turning on the computer. If this were a movie, he’d have flipped the sign to closed after the hipster had left. Made sure Koenig watched him do it. Koenig figured there was someone outside stopping new customers from entering. That made four. The three inside were wearing jeans. Not like a uniform, more like if you put any three Americans together, sure as milk on Mondays, most will be wearing jeans. Koenig was wearing a pair himself.

The woman twisted to show the Colt Detective Special she had in her right hand. She held it low and tucked in tight to her hip. Professional. No way to disarm her before she could put a couple into his liver. She gave Koenig an appraising look. ‘I thought you’d be bigger,’ she said.

‘I get that a lot.’

‘Hand over your cell phone.’

‘Don’t have one.’

‘Everybody has a cell phone.’

‘I don’t.’

‘Stand up,’ she said.

Koenig did. Standing was better than sitting. It gave him more options.

Walks-like-a-duck guy waddled around and expertly patted him down. Pulled out Koenig’s wallet and threw it on the table. It clattered against the keyboard.

‘He wasn’t shitting you,’ he said. ‘He don’t have one.’

‘Check his backpack. Let’s see what else he doesn’t have.’

They waited while Walks-Like-a-Duck rooted through Koenig’s backpack.

‘Looks like he’s going camping. There’s a knife but no cell phone and no gun.’

‘Let’s take this outside,’ the woman said. ‘You grab his bag, we’ll bring him.’

Koenig sat down and folded his arms. More to see what they did than for any tactical advantage.

‘Stand up,’ she said.

‘No.’

She sighed, like she’d expected him to refuse. ‘Either you stand up and follow me out, or we drag you out after I’ve put a bullet in your hip. Choose now.’

Koenig checked out what the other two were doing. They were watching him. The beetle-browed guy had his hand inside his jacket. Koenig could see the butt of a handgun. Looked like a SIG. Maybe a Browning. So far no one had gotten excited. No one had panicked. The internet café’s solitary staff member hadn’t noticed someone was being abducted right in front of her. She was wearing a She-Hulk costume. It bothered Koenig that adults wore costumes for Halloween. They hadn’t when he was growing up in Boston. Maybe it was a New York thing.

He glanced at the woman. He believed her when she’d said she’d shoot him in the hip. And if she did that, they would have to kill She-Hulk too.

‘Do you know why I’m here?’ Koenig said.

‘You were watching a film. Some old vampire movie.’

‘You’ve been watching me for a while then? That’s interesting. But no, I meant do you know why I’m in this café today?’

‘What the hell do I care?’

‘You should care a great deal,’ Koenig said.

‘And why’s that?’

‘You clearly know who I am.’

‘Obviously,’ she said.

‘But did you know I’m kinda on an invisible leash? It’s not a short leash and I can pretty much do what I want, but I’m on a leash nonetheless.’

The woman said nothing. She frowned and glanced at Beetle-Brow. She wasn’t in charge then. Useful to know. Beetle-Brow shrugged.

‘Ah, this is new information,’ Koenig said. ‘Let me help you out. You were quite right, I was watching a movie. Captain Kronos: Vampire Hunter. Have you seen it? It’s probably Horst Janson’s most well-known English language film.’

‘No one’s seen your stupid film, asshole.’

‘Oh, you really should. There’s this cool scene in the local tavern where Kronos runs his sword across some thugs’ throats before they even have time to move. There’ll be a test on that bit later.’

‘Killing you will be a public service.’

‘Anyway,’ Koenig said with a polite smile, ‘I try not to spend a lot of time in the same place, you know, in case some bounty hunters find me, but occasionally I stop long enough to catch a movie. I suppose I was what you might call a buff. A movie buff. It’s one of the things I had to give up when the Russians put five million bucks on my head.’

‘Can you please get to the point?’ the woman said. ‘We’re getting old here.’

‘If you were watching me for as long as you claim, you’ll know that I’d finished watching my movie, yet knowing I can’t stay in the same place for too long, I didn’t leave the second Kronos saves the village and rides off into the sunset. A more inquisitive group of bounty hunters might have asked themselves why that was.’

‘And what might this group be more inquisitive about?’ Beetle-Brow said.

‘I’ve got you guys in stereo now?’ Koenig said. ‘I thought you might leave all the long words to the Joker.’

‘My name’s Cunningham, asshole!’ the woman snapped.

Koenig smiled. He loved it when people lost their cool. It meant they weren’t thinking clearly. They were deviating from their plan. This wasn’t the first time people had tried to claim the bounty, and it wouldn’t be the last. ‘You guys want to tell me your names as well?’ he said to Beetle-Brow and Walks-Like-a-Duck.

‘Shut the hell up,’ Beetle-Brow said.

Koenig didn’t.

‘You see, this invisible leash I’m on means I’m required to send an email by five p.m. on the last day of every month. Today is Halloween, and Halloween is the last day of October.’ He paused. ‘Stop me if I’m going too fast.’ No one stopped him.

‘It’s why I was watching the movie in an internet café instead of a cinema with a feed bag of popcorn and a gallon of Sprite,’ Koenig continued.

‘So what?’ Cunningham said.

Koenig moved his seat so she could see his screen. ‘I haven’t sent my email yet. It’s still in my draft folder. If it doesn’t get sent, a bunch of people are going to get mad at me. Then they’re going to worry about me. Then they’re going to look for me. And then they’re going to get mad at you.’

The woman said, ‘So what?’ again.

‘These are not the kind of people you want to upset.’

‘Let me guess,’ she said. ‘You think we should let you go. That we should walk away from the biggest payday we’ll ever have. That what you think?’

‘No. I think you should let me send my email.’

‘You think I’m an idiot? I’m not letting you write an email.’

‘I know you’re an idiot,’ Koenig said. ‘I told you, it’s already done. I wrote it before you came in. I haven’t added to it since you sat beside me. It can’t possibly have anything incriminating in it. Not unless you think I’m psychic. Do you think I’m psychic, Cunningham?’

Before she could reply, Koenig reached over and pressed enter. She jabbed the Colt into his ribs and twisted the barrel. ‘What the fuck have you done?’

‘See for yourself. I assume you can read.’

She turned the screen and found the email he’d sent. Her lips moved as she read it. Voicing, Koenig thought it was called. Had its roots in grade school when children were taught to read phonetically and out loud so the teacher could see they were saying the words right. Some kids never kicked the habit. Meant they could only read as fast as they could talk, around 150 words a minute. Cunningham was categorised as a slow reader.

And a slow thinker, as it turned out.

‘Why would you risk a bullet in the gut to send that?’ she said.

‘What does it say?’ Beetle-Brow asked.

‘Just some bullshit to a woman called Jen. Says, and I quote, “Everything fine. Just about to leave New York. Not telling you where I’m going next.”’

‘Riveting.’

‘Why would you risk a bullet to send that?’ Cunningham repeated.

‘Guess I don’t want anyone to worry about me,’ Koenig said.

‘And now they won’t. Perhaps you shouldn’t have sent it. If I were in your shoes, I’d be desperate for someone to worry about me.’

‘You plan to kill me? Claim the five million?’

‘Not us,’ she said. ‘We don’t do that. We have a buyer lined up. Our organisation gets fifty per cent of whatever he gets. Nice little payday, and even better, there’s one less asshole in the world.’

‘Why? Is he killing you as well?’

‘You have a smart mouth. Wonder if it’ll still be smart when our guy’s peeling your skin off.’

‘That’s not in the contract.’

‘It isn’t,’ she admitted. ‘He just likes doing things like that. And for two and a half million bucks, who are we to say no?’

‘Guess I made a mistake sending that email then,’ Koenig said.

‘Guess you did,’ she said. ‘Now, on your feet. If you make a fuss, I’ll pop one in your pelvis and my friend over there will drop the Incredible Hulk.’

‘She-Hulk,’ Koenig corrected.

‘Whatever. The point is she’ll be dead, you’ll have a bullet in your hip, and we’ll still get what we came for.’

‘I need to pay first. If I don’t, She-Hulk is going to call the cops. I’m guessing you don’t want that.’

‘We’ll take care of the cheque,’ she said.

‘Do you have a prepaid credit card?’ Koenig said. ‘This is a cashless business. Post-COVID thing. Try to pay with cash in here and you’re going to stand out. Which I’m guessing none of you want.’

Cunningham frowned.

‘I’m also guessing that none of you want your Amex getting pinged in the last place I was seen.’

She didn’t reply.

‘Tell you what,’ Koenig sighed. ‘How about I pay? But next time you guys are picking up the tab. Deal?’

‘What’s fucking wrong with you?’ Cunningham said.

‘I don’t follow.’

‘Sure you do. All this crazy “I’m not scared” bullshit. Offering to pay the tab. Sending that email. You got a screw loose or something?’

‘I’m in a good mood,’ Koenig said.

‘Whatever. Pay the tab then. But try anything funny and—’

‘Yeah, yeah. I get a bullet in the hip and She-Hulk gets one in the head. Did you have enough coffee this morning? You seem cranky.’

Koenig picked up his wallet from the computer desk. He removed his credit card. It was an untraceable card from an IBC, an international business corporation. IBCs were like offshore companies, and that was where Koenig kept most of his assets. Meant he could confidentially access his money. Even the Supreme Court couldn’t find out which ATM he’d used. He clicked the end-session button. Captain Kronos: Vampire Hunter was a ninety-minute film, and he’d been talking to his potential abductors for almost ten. He owed eight bucks. He swiped his credit card against the reader and settled the tab.

He stood. Quickly. Cunningham jerked back. The two men reached for their weapons. Koenig smiled.

‘Outside,’ Cunningham hissed. ‘Slowly. Hands where we can see them.’

Koenig did exactly that. He showed them his hands. There was nothing in them.

Which was odd. He should have been holding his credit card.