The Import, page 13
part #1 of Matthew Riker Series
Riker held the pistol for a moment. It felt comfortable. Too comfortable. “I don’t need a gun.”
“You do if you’re working for me. Part of your job is watching my back. I need you armed if shit goes sideways.”
Riker looked at the pistol for a long moment. “Okay.”
“I take it you know how to use that thing?” Hendricks reached back in the bag and handed him two more items: a concealed carry holster and a spare magazine.
“Yeah. It’s just like a camera, right? Point and shoot.”
“Well, just keep it in your pants unless I tell you otherwise. Last thing I need is a bullet in the back from a squid with no trigger discipline.”
They drove in silence for a few minutes, making their way from the upper-class neighborhood to the commercial district. The traffic was even worse than it had been the previous evening. Hendricks was a tense driver, glaring at the other cars on the road as if they’d said something about his mama.
“So what’s the job this morning?” Riker asked after a while.
“Simple delivery.”
“Okay. What are we delivering?”
“Just dropping off a payment to some guys who did some subcontracting for Dobbs.”
“And these subcontractors, does Dobbs usually send two armed guys to deliver their payments?”
“Listen, man, there’s something you gotta understand. Mr. Dobbs has his fingers in a lot of pies. He deals with serious people on serious matters. Sometimes things cross over into what you might call unsavory territory, but it’s all for a greater purpose. That man’s done more for this city than any ten guys walking the straight and narrow. The homeless shelter on 223rd? The kids’ rec center in South Brooklyn? The drug treatment facility on Lavender? None of it would exist without Mr. Dobbs.”
“I wasn’t questioning his ethics. I was just asking what we were walking in to.”
“My point is, there are some things you’re better off not knowing. Keep your head down, don’t ask questions, and do as you’re told.”
“Got it. Don’t question orders. I’ll bet you were really popular in the Army. Your C.O.’s probably loved you.”
Hendricks shot him a look but said nothing.
They drove in silence until they reached an apartment building on the south side of Queens. It looked high end to Riker. Not as high-end as Dobbs’ neighborhood, but the monthly rent on one of the apartments would probably cost more than a year of Riker’s mortgage payments back home.
Hendricks pulled into the parking garage and found a spot. Then turned off the car and glared at Riker. “Two rules in there. Keep your mouth shut and follow my lead.”
“Okay,” Riker said.
“I’m serious, man. These guys can be a little skittish. You start running your smart mouth, things won’t go so well. We could both end up with guns in our faces.”
“I’ll keep a lid on it.”
“You’d better.”
They got out, and Riker clipped the concealed carry holster inside the back of his pants. He followed Hendricks out of the parking garage. The doorman seemed to recognize Hendricks, and he let them right in. They walked to the elevator and Hendricks pressed the button for the twelfth floor. He clutched the bag to his chest as they rode up. If there was cash in that bag, Hendricks wasn’t exactly being subtle about it.
When the elevator doors opened and they stepped out, Riker had a sinking feeling in his stomach.
“I don’t love the set-up of this place,” he said. “These long, narrow hallways. The fire exit is down at the far end. If these guys are as skittish as you say, maybe we should rethink this. Meet up with them somewhere public. More open.”
Hendricks glared at him. “This is the opposite of keeping your mouth shut and following my lead. It’s exactly why I didn’t want you on my team.”
“I’m just saying—”
“This meeting has been set up for days. These guys want their money. If I call them now and change the meeting spot, how is that going to look? They’d be way more suspicious then.”
“I’ll follow your lead,” Riker said. “I’m just sharing my opinion. It’s up to you what you do with it.”
“Bend over and I’ll show you what I’ll do with it.”
“Do we at least know how many guys are in there?”
“Why? You getting cold feet, Riker?” Hendricks smacked him on the arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. No more questions. Let’s get this over with.”
Riker took a deep breath and followed Hendricks to apartment 1214, trying to push down the mounting concern rising up inside him. He’d accepted Dobbs’ offer, and now it was time to do the job.
21
HENDRICKS POUNDED the door with the back of his fist three times. He took a step back, and the light disappeared from the peephole for a moment. The door opened, revealing a man dressed in slacks and a white T-shirt. His forearms were covered in black and grey tattoos. The only notable accessory was the gun hanging from his shoulder holster.
“I’m surprised that you showed up, Hendricks,” the man said in a thick Russian accent. He stepped aside and waved an arm for the men to enter the room.
“This is the meeting time and place so I’m here,” Hendricks said as he walked by.
Riker passed the man and went down a short hall. The condo had a large living room that was open to the kitchen. Old exposed bricks lined the walls and bricks of drugs lay on the table. Two men sat at the table packing the bricks into a small duffle bag.
A slender, clean-shaven man sipped on coffee in the kitchen. He stood in front of a plate of fresh-cut fruit. The knife was still next to the plate. He watched the room like the master of the world.
Riker already hated the situation. They were outnumbered two to one. One person was behind them, and another was out of reach with potential cover. The drugs made him nervous as well. It was rare to find a crew that dealt in the substance without one addict on the team. Guys like that were always an x-factor.
Hendricks stopped next to the table. “Good to see you, Igor. How’s business?”
“It’s better now if you have my payment in that bag,” the man in the kitchen said. He casually leaned against the kitchen counter as he took another sip of coffee. He nodded toward Riker. “Who’s this?”
“He’s new to the crew. We’ll see if he lasts.”
Riker walked across the room to the kitchen. The two men at the table put their hands on their pistols. They didn’t draw them, but they were ready to move. Riker extended one hand as he approached. Igor glared at him a moment, deciding how to react. Finally, he took Riker’s hand and shook it.
“Nice to meet you, Igor. I’m Riker.”
Igor looked at Riker’s dirty clothes. “Where did you get this guy from, Hendricks? He seems like he should be shining my shoes, not doing a drop.”
“Don’t worry about him. He just doesn’t know how to stand still and shut up yet. I’ll teach him how things are done here.”
“Who will teach you how things are done?” Igor said with a Cheshire cat grin.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hendricks stood taller and puffed his chest as he spoke.
“I mean that our payment was due last week. We do not take deadlines lightly. How are you going to make up for that transgression?”
Riker moved to Igor’s side, keeping his back to the wall while the men talked. He felt much more comfortable with all four men in his sightline. He hoped that things would go smoothly, but at least he would have a fighting chance if they didn’t.
“How about you stay thankful that we are using your services?” Hendricks said. “Take your money when you get it and be happy.”
Hendricks put the bag on the table in front of him, freeing up both hands. Then he turned to face Igor. Riker could tell that move was to get the guy behind him in his peripheral. It looked like Hendricks knew how to handle himself in these types of situations.
One of the men at the table spoke in Russian. Thankfully, it was one of the six languages that Riker spoke fluently.
“We should kick the shit out of both of these guys, boss. That will teach them not to be late.”
The guy sitting next to him answered in Russian. “I agree. They talk to us like we are weak. We should teach them how strong we are.”
Igor scowled. “Just sit there and keep your mouths shut. I will handle them. First, we will get our money. Afterward, we may teach them a lesson. Check the bag.”
“What the hell did you just say?” Hendricks said in a loud voice that wasn’t quite a yell. “I don’t want to hear another word in Russian while I am here. English only. Do you understand?”
“I’ll speak whatever language I want,” the guy who’d started the conversation said. “It’s not my fault you stupid Americans only understand English.”
“Answer the question. What were you talking about?”
The man stood up and got inside Hendricks’ personal space. He was a few inches shorter than Hendricks, but he was big. His shoulders were broad enough to warrant a custom sports jacket. His arms stretched out the fabric in the biceps. Riker could tell he was a gym rat. Hendricks kept his ground when the man got in his face.
“I said it looks like you got a new boyfriend. We were all guessing who bends over and takes it and who gives it out. We all agree that you’re the one getting it up the ass.”
Hendricks’ hand shot out in a blur. His fingers were wrapped around the back of the muscle-head’s neck before he could react. With the other, he pushed his stomach back and then brought his face down hard on the table. It hit with enough force that the bag of drugs jumped up a few inches. The gym rat’s face bounced off the table and he fell on his ass. Blood poured out of his nose and he lay there on the verge of passing out.
The other man at the table jumped up, reaching for his gun. Before he pulled it out Hendricks had his weapon drawn and trained at his face. The man behind Hendricks pulled his gun and pointed it at the back of Hendricks’ head.
“Whoa! Everyone needs to calm down,” Riker yelled in Russian.
Hendricks and the two men glanced toward the kitchen but kept their weapons aimed at each other.
Riker stepped behind Igor, wrapping an arm around his neck. Igor pried at the arm with his hands, but Riker had most of the airflow cut off. Igor’s face was red and his eyes bulged. With his other hand, Riker grabbed the knife off the fruit tray and pressed the tip of the blade just under Igor’s jaw, brushing against the skin of his neck.
Riker continued in Russian. “We are all professionals here. There is a job to be done and no reason for good relationships to be ruined. Don’t you agree, Igor?”
Riker let a small amount of pressure off of his neck. Igor croaked out, “Yes.”
Riker switched back to English. “Why don’t we all lower our weapons and act like civilized adults.” No one moved.
“A little help here, Igor?” Riker let off a little more pressure.
“Yes,” Igor croaked. “We are professionals. If Hendricks lowers his weapon, we will lower ours.”
Hendricks didn’t move.
“Hendricks, let’s keep the boss happy and end this the easy way.” Riker was ready for Hendricks to pull the trigger, but he slowly lowered his gun and put it back in its holster.
Igor spoke in Russian. “Lower your guns.”
The two men in the living room lowered their weapons. Riker let go of Igor. He kept the knife at the ready.
“Sorry about the chokehold. I just wanted to keep everyone from losing their cool.”
Igor rubbed his neck with one hand. He nodded to the man by the table. “Check the bag.”
The man reached across the table for the bag. He watched Hendricks like a cobra ready to strike. Hendricks didn’t move, and the man retrieved the object. He unzipped the bag and looked inside. He moved items around and stared at the contents.
“Is it all there?” Igor asked.
“Yeah, it’s all here.”
“Of course it’s all there,” Hendricks said. “We never welch on a deal.”
“Great, then everyone is satisfied.” Riker looked at Igor when he spoke. He knew he needed Igor to give the okay before they could leave without incident.
The other two Russians looked at Igor. They clearly were not satisfied. Their friend was starting to stand up. The front of his shirt was covered with blood, and he wobbled when he stood. His nose was almost sideways on his face.
“Hendricks, this can’t stand. You laid a hand on my crew.” Igor stood like a statue when he spoke. Riker could tell that he didn’t want this to get out of control, but he couldn’t look weak in front of his crew. He could see in Igor’s eyes that he would risk death before he would lose face.
“Yes, Hendricks overreacted,” Riker said. “He was insulted by your man. Both acted unprofessionally. Certainly, there is a solution that doesn’t involve destroying a good business relationship.”
Igor looked from Riker to his crew. “Damon, you were out of line. We don’t speak to our business partners like that.”
“Boss, he broke my fucking nose.” Damon touched the mangled mess on the front of his face and winced.
“Yes, and that was out of line as well. What do you suggest Mr. Riker?”
Riker looked at Hendricks a moment. “One hit deserves another. One free shot from your man on Hendricks. Will that suffice?”
Igor smiled. “I think that will be enough.”
Hendricks put his hand back on the butt of his gun. “Hell no. No one gets a free shot on me.”
“You don’t think you can take one punch?” Riker said. “I assume our boss wants this to end in a way that doesn’t cause any headaches for him.”
Hendricks thought for a moment. He slowly moved his hand away from the pistol and turned to face Damon.
“Fine. Give me your best shot, tough guy.”
Damon spit a little blood onto the floor and cocked his right arm back. He threw a right cross that connected with Hendricks’ cheek. Hendricks’ head snapped to the side when the punch hit, but the rest of his body remained firmly planted. He whipped his head back towards Damon and looked him dead in the eyes.
“Do you feel better now, snowflake, or should we take this to the next level?” Hendricks asked.
Riker couldn’t help but be impressed. That punch would have put most men on their backs. Hendricks didn’t waiver.
“I think that is enough for one morning,” Igor said. “Go back to Dobbs and tell him that we expect payment on time in the future. If not, things will not be so smooth.”
“Make sure to keep your dogs on their leashes or things will not go smooth.” Hendricks continued to stare at Damon.
“We will relay the message, Igor.” Riker walked towards the door keeping an eye on the Russians.
“I’ll see you around, Mr. Riker.”
Riker and Hendricks walked in silence back to the car. When they got into the Audi, Hendricks broke the silence.
“You weren’t completely worthless in there. You do need to get rid of the Mr. Rogers politeness. If you’re not the alpha with these guys, you don’t have their respect. If you don’t have their respect, things get out of control.”
“Sometimes playing nice keeps everyone from getting killed. I thought keeping everyone alive was part of this job.”
“Like I said, you did good in there, but listen to me about the respect thing. Fear goes a long way with the guys we deal with.”
Hendricks’ phone beeped. He checked the message and started the car.
“Looks like Dobbs has a lead on the Helen thing. Let’s see if you can prove it was more than luck in there.”
The Audi sped away from the building towards Dobbs and the next mission of the day.
22
“I GUESS you’ve earned that cup of coffee now,” Hendricks said when they got back to the house.
“What about Dobbs? It sounded somewhat urgent.”
“One thing about Mr. Dobbs. You don’t really want to interrupt him when he’s working. He’ll come find us when he’s ready.”
When they reached the kitchen, they found a wiry, balding man standing there, drinking coffee out of an oversized thermos. The little hair that remained on his head was cropped close, and his arms were heavily tattooed. He gave Hendricks a friendly nod and looked warily at Riker.
“Who’s the new guy?”
“I’m Riker.” He held out his hand and they shook.
“This is Brennan,” Hendricks said. “One of my top guys. You want to know what it takes to be successful in this organization, pay attention to him.”
“You must be the guy who brought Helen and Li home.”
“I didn’t realize the news was out, but yeah, that’s me,” Riker said.
Hendricks grinned. “You kidding? These guys gossip worse than old ladies. One of my guys in Queens sees you sneeze, a guy in Brooklyn will text, Bless you.”
Riker rummaged around in the cupboards until he found a mug, and he poured himself some coffee.
“We’re not that bad,” Brennan said. “We just like to keep each other informed.”
Riker took a sip of coffee, watching Brennan. “You Catholic?”
“What good Italian boy from the Bronx isn’t?” he answered. “But how’d you know?”
“I spotted Our Lady of the Holy Ink,” he said, nodding toward a tattoo of the Virgin Mary on Brennan’s right forearm.
“Can you believe that shit?” Hendricks asked. “I have nothing but respect for the Holy Mother, but I’d like to be able to take a piss or jerk off without her staring at me, you know?”
“Luckily, I’m left-handed,” Brennan replied.
Riker let out a laugh. Maybe it was the coffee, but he felt better than he had since that day at the fair. In a strange way, it felt good to be part of a team again. He’d missed the camaraderie. It was something that had been part of his life from his wrestling days all the way up until he’d left his old life behind and gone to North Carolina. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it until he’d experienced a little taste of it again.
