T. Bunn - Drummer in the Dark

“Here, drink this.”

“What is it?”

“Grappa. So you don’t faint.”

Anna watched as Jackie tasted the fiery liquid and coughed, then winced at how the cough pulled at her wound. “Don’t sip. Drink like medicine. Big swallow. Good.”

“That’s strong.”

“Yes. But now you are not so pale like the linen. Can you move up your arms, up like this, over your head?”

“I don’t think so.”

“No matter. We will cut off your T-shirt. Lean forward.” Anna helped Jackie do so. As she snipped she asked, “Who did this?”

Before Jackie could respond, the hall rang with other voices. Two other women rushed in, one carrying a black bag. There was a swift torrent of Italian, then Anna asked, “Was it a gang?”

“I don’t. . Ow!” The doctor’s probing fingers retreated. She held a bloody finger up in front of Jackie’s face. The message was clear. Don’t move. Jackie gasped as the fingers resumed their probing of her shoulder, and said, “Three men on mopeds.”

This was also translated. Anna said, “They used clubs with knives, yes?”

“Or razors. Something sharp.”

“Yes, this is the gang’s favorite new toy. Every night the hospitals greet their victims.”

Jackie held the T-shirt to her front, aware of how many legs and shoes were crowding about her. Strangers all. “You think we could cram a few more people in here?”

Anna strung together a verbal push, and the room quickly emptied. Jackie lifted a blood-stained shoe and told the doctor, “They also hit my leg.” Sounds of protest lifted her head in time to see the driver being shoved towards the door. “Let him stay a moment, please.”

When calm was restored and the door closed, Jackie said to the driver, “I can’t thank you enough.”

“It is no problem, signora .” He grinned broadly. “We make a good chase, yes? Like the movies.”

She watched the doctor begin to cut away her trouser leg. “My things are all at the hotel. I’d really rather not go back there.”

Anna understood immediately. “They may still be after you?”

“I think so.”

There followed a swift exchange between the driver and Anna. Then she said, “Someone will return with the driver and check you out. We will keep you here. How long do you stay?”

“I’d like to leave tomorrow for America, if I can.”

Another discussion, this one including the doctor. The driver pulled a cellphone from his pocket and dialed. Anna told her, “Your cuts are not too deep. The driver thinks the hotel will not give out your name. The Hassler would not like to say a guest was attacked on their doorstep, you understand?”

“Yes.” She felt two pinpricks, local anesthetics for her leg and shoulder. Then the queasy tugging of thread being sewn.

The driver pocketed his phone and reported, “Is no problem.”

Jackie said to the driver, “I’m so sorry about your car.”

The driver’s smile was tainted by the sight of the doctor’s work. “Was not my car, signora . And the hotel is very rich.”

Anna said, “I fear our chambers will be not so nice.”

Jackie leaned forward and shut her eyes to the pile of bloody gauze. “If they’re safe, it will be just fine.”

Thursday

The next morning the traders presented Colin with a bottle of champagne and a tiny bejeweled tree. Eric gave a little speech that started, “On behalf of King Elvis and all his loyal subjects-”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Colin warned. “You’ll meet the street long before your time.”

“You going to let me do this or not?” Up and down the aisles, traders moved in to be a part of the fun. “Okay. In recognition of your part in ridding us of the menace, we hereby bestow upon you these tokens of our undying gratitude.”

Colin made no move to accept. The tree was as high as his hand, gold plated, and had tiny crystal leaves at the end of each branch. “Who is rid of what?”

This only made the traders grin harder. Eric replied, “Take a look upstairs.”

Colin was anything but pleased to see the balcony absolutely empty. “That’s not possible.”

“All thanks to you and the bugs you found.” Eric shoved the tree and bottle into Colin’s hands. “Enjoy.”

Colin was still giving the balcony his bleakest inspection when Alex moved up beside him. “You’re not fooled by this either.”

“Hayek wouldn’t fire them all just because one guy stepped over the line,” Colin agreed.

“Which means they’ve been buried somewhere.” Alex surveyed the traders prepping themselves for the battle ahead. “There are days,” he said softly, “so intense, I walk out and can’t believe it’s the same sun shining as when I went in. Ice ages should have passed. Civilizations risen and fallen. Eons melt and flow and still I’m in here, fighting the market.”

Colin studied the spots market chief. At this proximity it was easier to see the permanent stains of commercial war, the wounds to face and gaze and spirit. “This thing really has you worried.”

“If he’s planning to feed the new group data we can’t access, we might as well hang up our guns and go farm sheep.” Alex circled one finger overhead, gathering up his troops. “Let’s go see if we can discover the battle plan.”

They crowded into the elevator together, the five senior traders who could be pulled off the floor, and Colin. He was squashed up next to the hard barrel belly of the derivatives chief, a red-cheeked man who stank of some prehistoric aftershave. The ride was silent. But when the doors opened, the trader planted a meaty paw on Colin’s shoulder and told him, “Nice work finding those listening devices, kiddo. Definitely one for the late night tales.”

Hayek himself was out in the front office to greet them. A first. As was the solicitous apology for disturbing their week. “Such a nuisance to discover a new member of the team has proven so unreliable. Please, gentlemen, ladies, accept my sincerest regrets for such a disastrous intrusion.”

Hayek gave them an open-armed escort, leading and guiding both. Colin spotted the attractive Washington lobbyist in the waiting room and wondered if she had somehow been involved.

The senior traders entered Hayek’s office like infidels passing through cathedral doors. They shuffled a bit and they craned and searched and cleared their throats, and wished themselves back down in the fray. Most came up only when there was a major offering, their presentation carefully orchestrated. There was no script here. No precedent, no deal. Only the sullen rage of people who knew they had been wronged.

Hayek directed them through his office and into the conference area. To their amazement, the table was decked out with gourmet fast food. Spode china. Crystal goblets for the soft drinks. Blinis. Silver palavers for the smoked salmon and the French air-dried saucisson . A cheese board on a traditional reed mat, six different selections. Iced caviar. Baskets of fresh-baked bread. Two waiters in solemn white livery. Hayek showed eager concern as they made their selections, taking nothing for himself until all were served. Gradually he eased them away from the purpose of their meeting with kingly grace, until all but Alex were chatting and eating heartily. The more they talked, the quieter Hayek grew. He ate almost nothing.

Without preamble, Hayek launched into his spiel. “I made a grave error, bringing the new group in as I did. The fact is, we are in the process of receiving new investment capital. A significant portion comes from a source who insists their funds be kept separate. I have done my best to explain that this makes no sense, that we all trade using the same information. It may actually hurt them in the long run not to have access to the full power of our floor. But they have insisted. And quite frankly, the size of their investment is such that we cannot refuse. So I attempted to move this new group in first, intending to explain things once we had sorted out the situation. I now recognize this to have been a grave error. I apologize. I have therefore moved the entire team into the Capital Markets section of First Florida Bank.”