Scott Medbury - Inga

“You sure you don’t want anything?” he asked again.

“No, she’s fine Mateo.”

The older man looked at him; one eyebrow raised and then back to the girl. He stood up straight and shrugged.

“All right my friend, tell me what has happened and what a poor restaurant owner can do for you?”

Ivan smiled. Mateo Babic was once the most powerful man in West Chicago. He had started and built up a thriving, mainly underground business, in the early 2000s.

When Molenski arrived and began building the foundations of his empire, he saw immediately that the Croatian syndicate was going to be his main opposition. While expansion wasn’t a driving factor for them, they were powerful and dominated the drug trade in the West Side. They were much too strong to take on head to head at that early stage of his career, so against his normal modus operandi, he had extended an olive branch to the Croatian – much better to avoid carnage that would leave both of them weak enough for someone else to pick off.

In the years following the Russian’s arrival, they’d had dealings that had been mutually beneficial, in fact, Ivan had been a part of their first handshake agreement very early on. The size of the silent, young man had impressed Babic, and he had requested him as sugar on top of the deal which slightly favored the Russian.

Ivan had been horrified when Molenski let him go without an argument, but as it turned out, it was the best thing that could have happened. Babic was no Molenski. While he was ruthless with those who did him wrong, he was never cruel and took a real shine to Ivan that was returned by the apprentice bodyguard.

Over time, Ivan came to see him as a father figure rather than a boss and after a year in his service, would have done anything for him. The Russian became a valued lieutenant of the Croatian syndicate and a very effective stand over man. His intimidation factor usually worked without the need for physical force, but when required, he was extremely capable of handling himself and honed his skills at fight clubs.

After 25 years in the business, Babic decided he was ready for retirement, so when the upstart Molenski, now dominating the greater Chicago crime scene, made him a cash offer too good to refuse, the old Croat, without an obvious heir, decided it would be the perfect ‘transition to retirement’ plan.

The only part of his business he didn’t sell to Molenski was the restaurant they stood in now.

Ivan’s return to the Russian’s employ had been a part of the deal of course. Initially, Ivan had been reluctant, but Babic had persuaded him.

“He’s a psycho bastard, but you should take the job. In a couple of years you will be able to retire a wealthy young man.”

Molenski didn’t need another stand over man, so he made Ivan his personal bodyguard. Now, in front of his old mentor again, Ivan looked at him steadily.

“I need help.”

“Come, let’s have a drink while you tell me,” Babic said, leading Ivan behind the bar, where he poured them a whiskey.

They clinked glasses, but Ivan put his down untouched.

“Molenski?”

Ivan nodded.

“What has he done?”

In a low voice, Ivan began to tell Babic of what had happened that day.

“No!” Mateo exclaimed at one point, looking at Inga with wide eyes.

When he had finished his tale, Mateo Babic put his hand on Ivan’s.

“You will need to take your friend to see Dr. Vlad, but you’re right. Molenski has a wide reach, Ivan. You will need to flee the country – tomorrow, at the latest. I can organize fake passports with a few calls; I will just need to take a picture of you both. Then we can book your flights.”

“Passports would be great, but we can’t fly…”

“What, why?”

He simply nodded at Inga. The old man slapped himself on the forehead realizing the girl would never get through airport screening.

“Da, da! Of course! A ship then… from Philadelphia! My brother Uri has a private charter company. I’ll organize him to fly you there early tomorrow morning; then you’ll just have to find a way to smuggle her onboard a cruise ship.”

“Thanks. That will be less of a problem than a plane.”

The old man clapped his hands.

“Excellent, it is settled. You should call Dr. Vlad now. I will keep Inga company.”

“Thank you, old friend,” said Ivan, standing up. “Inga, I will be in the next room making a phone call, wait here with Mr. Babic.”

“Yes, Myfriend.”

Ivan disappeared through the door that led to Babic’s office and the old Croat smiled at Inga. She met his gaze flatly. He shrugged and poured himself a shot of whiskey before emerging from behind the bar and pulling up a chair in front of her.

She looked at him, unblinking, as he pulled his glasses from his shirt pocket and looked curiously at her face, particularly the scratch marks on her cheek, which had crusted over.

“So, Inga, you are a robot?” he asked as if he didn’t quite believe it.

“Yes, Mr. Babic. I am a synthetic human form robot produced by Genitix, the world leader in human form robotics. I am a Sinthetica Model 676 with special features including Genitix RealFlesh and Genitix PhysSens- patent pending.”

“Amazing. So realistic!” Mateo shook his head and took off his glasses before downing the rest of his whiskey in one gulp. “Tell me Sinthetica Model 676, do you like birds?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“ Birds . Warm-blooded egg-laying vertebrate animals distinguished by the possession of feathers, wings, a beak, and typically by being able to fly. I am not programmed to ‘like’…”

“But you like Ivan – Myfriend , as you call him, don’t you?”

Inga didn’t answer immediately. Her face was blank, her mouth poised to answer but it appeared his question had stumped her.

“Come! You think too much,” he said, holding out his hand. “You need to feel .”

“Myfriend instructed me to wait here.”

“I know, but I want to show you my birds. Come, they are just through that doorway. He said to wait with me, didn’t he?”

Again, she froze momentarily, processing the logic of the request, and after a few seconds took his hand and stood up, allowing him to lead her through a large doorway into the dining area of his restaurant. Considering the bland exterior of the building, it was a grand room with rich furnishings and a spacious feel.

“Here they are!” he said, proudly, leading her to a large wire cage in the front corner of the room.

The cage was home to two peach faced Lovebirds, their colors vibrant even in the filtered afternoon light. They began to tweet and sing as Mateo and Inga approached. The Croatian gestured to them.

“This is Max, and this is Maxine,” he said, introducing the birds one at a time.

Inga bent over for a better look, her forehead bumping the cage gently, causing it to rock back and forth. She reeled in surprise when the startled birds took flight and fluttered around the cage.

“Shhh, shhh,” soothed a laughing Babic.

Inga watched intently as the birds found their way back to the perch.

“What do you think of my babies?”

“Babies: Newborn, Infant, bundle of joy…”

“Birds! My dear, I mean what do you think of my birds?”

“They are… nice.”

The old man chortled.

“So, you do like them?”

“ Like . To regard with favor; have a kindly or friendly feeling for; to find attractive…” she looked at him, her eyes wide. “Yes, I like your birds.”

“Here,” said Mateo, reaching for the door of the cage.

Inga watched, fascinated, as he reached into the cage and began making a soft clicking noise with his tongue. One of the birds fluttered to his finger, and he carefully extracted his arm and held out the bird to her.