Steve Martini - Trader of secrets

The story Liquida had told Raji was only half a lie. If Liquida had his way and everything worked out, they would be out of Paris and on their way south toward Marseilles before the sun came up.

Leffort took another drag on the joint as he maneuvered his head onto the pillow and lifted his white gym-socked feet up onto the bed.

Liquida swept the dirty dishes and garbage off the surface of the small table with one arm and started setting up the computer. “Get over here now.”

“Have you seen this one?” Leffort’s attention was back on the television set, a porn movie running on one of the pay-per-view channels. “ Lilly’s Arch Day Triumph, ” said Leffort.

As soon as he got the computer up and running, Liquida crossed the room. Leffort was in middrag on the joint when Liquida slapped it from his lips and stamped it out on the floor.

“That’s good shit. What did you go and do that for?”

“I want you to take a look at this.” He held the small flash drive, half the size of a pack of chewing gum, up in front of Leffort’s eyes so he could see it. Larry tried to focus.

“What is it? Lemme see.” He took the drive between his fingers, examined it for a second, then put one end of it to his lips and tried to suck with his lungs. “No taste at all. What is it?” said Leffort.

“Son of a bitch.” Liquida ripped the flash drive from his mouth.

“Suck on that, you’re gonna need to break out the Shop-Vac.”

“You stupid shit.” Liquida grabbed him by the collar and started to pull him up off the bed. After Liquida dragged him to his feet, together they stumbled into the bathroom. He maneuvered Leffort into place, bumped him with his hip, and let go. Leffort tumbled into the tub. He hadn’t hit the porcelain surface when Liquida pulled the curtain closed and turned on the shower full force with cold water.

“Aw shit! Nooooo! God damn! Turn it off! You’re gonna fuckin’ drown me.”

“Try the backstroke,” said Liquida. “You keep this up, you and I are gonna go in the other room and play with a pillow. Did I tell you the dream I had?”

Ten minutes later Liquida had him stripped, dried, and covered with a towel, everything except the upper chest and the nipple rings Leffort had installed in L.A. Liquida pushed him out into the room toward the table and the computer.

“What do you want?” Leffort’s tone was no longer pleasant.

“I want you to get your ass in that chair and look at this.” Liquida handed him the flash drive once more. “Tell me if it’s what we’re looking for. The targeting software.”

“Lemme see.” Leffort held it up to the light. “What does that say?” He showed it to Liquida.

“It says Kingston.”

“Yeah, but there’s numbers after it. What do the numbers say?”

“Looks like two hundred and fifty…”

“Two hundred and fifty-six gigs,” said Leffort.

“So what is that?” said Liquida.

“That, my friend, is the largest flash drive on the commercial market. Must have set him back at least a thousand bucks. There’s probably something bigger that the government has, but for you and me, that’s as big as they get, at least for now anyway.”

“So what does that mean?”

“It means it’s big enough to hold what we’re looking for.”

“Yes, but is it there?”

“How do I know? Listen, I need a smoke.”

Liquida grabbed him by the few hairs on his chest, pinched one of the nipple rings with the other hand, and started to twist.

“Ow! Shit, that hurts.”

“Yes, I know. It was good of you to provide them,” said Liquida. “Most people I do this to, I have to bring my own pliers. Listen to me!” He kept twisting.

“Ow! Oh, shit!”

“Get your ass over to that computer and tell me what’s on that thing or I’m going to take you out on the balcony and teach you how to fly without wings. Do you understand?”

“Yesss! I understand.”

“Good.” Liquida let go.

“Oh God!”

The way Leffort said it, Liquida had to wonder if the sick fuck might have actually enjoyed it. Maybe when Leffort was finished with the job, Bruno would give him to Liquida as a project so he could flame up the rings in his tits with a torch.

Is this your room?”

“Yes.” Bruno gave him a cold stare as they sat in the hotel room waiting for the food to arrive. The goon, the one Bruno used to guard the hallway, stood near the door.

Raji looked around appraisingly at the spacious suite, a pair of antique couches, Bruno on one, Raji on the other, facing each other across a low coffee table between. It was a large sitting room between what looked like two separate bedrooms.

“If you have a Wi-Fi signal here, why don’t I just get my computer and I can get started?”

“Just sit tight,” said Bruno.

“Fine.” Raji was more than a little nervous. The fact that they took his jacket from him made him wonder if they had seen the flash drive. If forced to, he could deliver a reasonable facsimile of the targeting software downloaded from an online site where he had parked it the night before he and Leffort flew out of L.A. It was an insurance policy. The online version wouldn’t work, but there was no way for anyone to know that until they tested it. It was a precaution Raji had taken just in case. In fact, he had prepared not one, but two levels of deception in the event that they backed him against a wall and threatened his life. They were both designed to buy time.

As the minutes passed, Raji began to relax. If the man who called himself Joaquin had found the flash drive, he would have been in here by now confronting Fareed with it. He took off his glasses and allowed them to dangle from the woven cord around his neck.

A few minutes later there was a rap on the door. Bruno looked at the guard and said something to him in a language Fareed didn’t understand.

Raji assumed it was room service delivering the food.

The guard checked the peephole, then turned and said something to Bruno.

“Just a moment.” Bruno looked at Fareed. He struggled to lift his prodigious weight from the sinkhole of the couch, leaning with both hands on the coffee table as he did so. He made his way to the door.

The guard opened it just enough to let him out.

Raji tried to see who was out there, but the broad back of the guard was in the way. The guy closed the door and Fareed just sat. He was wishing he could take a shower. For the last two nights he had been sleeping in the same clothes, harassed repeatedly by the blinding beams of flashlights. He was exhausted. Without coffee he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes open much longer.

Another knock on the door. The guard opened it. This time it was Bruno.

Raji put his glasses back on.

Bruno approached from across the room. He was breathing heavily, sweating as usual. The man needed to lose weight and get some exercise. “It appears we’re having some problems. It seems there is some difficulty with the Internet. They tell me it is down throughout the hotel. And the desk informs me that they are unable to find a restaurant to provide coffee or food because of the hour.”

“So what do we do?” said Raji.

“I guess we are going to have to wait until morning. Hopefully by then the Internet will be up and running, and at least we can get some breakfast. So for now it’s back to your room.”

Raji shook his head. “You wake me up for this?”

“I am sorry, but it cannot be helped,” said Bruno. “We will take care of it all in the morning.”

Bruno and the guard led Raji back down the hallway. There was no sign of Joaquin. The suggestion of food had set Raji’s stomach to growling. It would be at least four or five hours until breakfast. He was hungry, but at least he could shower, change his underwear, and sleep.