Jamie Freveletti - Running Dark

Emma wasn’t surprised at this information. Only ship employees had access to the cargo bay where the vials were located.

But before she could respond, the ship’s alarm went off.

49

BANNER STEPPED INTO THE VIP LOUNGE. THE VIBE HERE WAScompletely different from the Eroscenter. This club evoked the feeling of men’s social clubs in an era gone by. Heavy paneling covered the walls, dark velvet draperies lined each window, and leather chairs with matching ottomans faced a fireplace with an elaborately carved mantelpiece. The smell of old cigars and new cigarettes permeated the air. Three silver-haired men strolled past the reception desk, headed up a flight of carpeted stairs to the second level. As in the establishment before, the VIP receptionist was a somewhat beefy man. Banner stepped up to him to begin his rap.

“I’m—”

“Here to check out the poker game.”

“The Eroscenter called you,” Banner said.

The man nodded. “You’ll need at least two thousand euros to join, but that will cover your initial chip allocation of five hundred, all your food and drinks, and one session with the girl of your choice after the game.”

“Steep,” Banner said.

The man shrugged. “It’s a good game. You could win, and if you don’t, at least you’ll leave here fed and happy.”

Banner chuckled. The man had a point. “Do you take credit cards?”

The man shook his head. “Not for this. The game’s off the books. We need cash.”

“I don’t have it.”

“There’s an ATM down the street to the right.”

“Don’t they usually have five-hundred-euro limits?”

The man nodded. “Maybe you come back tomorrow. Least now you’ve seen the place.”

“How about I give you five hundred cash? That will cover my chip allocation. I’ll pay for food on the card, and I won’t touch the women.”

“You’re gonna want to touch the women.”

“I don’t doubt that, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

The man considered the offer. “Okay. But you change your mind about the women, you’re gonna have to leave the game and go to the main area of the club. They take credit cards.”

“It’s a deal.”

The man pointed to the stairs. “Up there. Second door on your left. Give the guard the cash. Good luck.”

Banner thought he’d need it. He headed up the stairwell. At the top was a long hall with several doors on either side. A young man reading a paper sat in a chair with its legs tilted and its back against the wall. He dropped the chair legs to the carpeting when he saw Banner and stood. Banner handed him five hundred euros. The young man opened the door.

“Play well,” he said with a smile.

Banner stepped into a rectangular room. A circular table, positioned in the center, acted as a focal point. A stained-glass lamp hung over it, illuminating the green felt top. Five men sat with cards in their hands. Off to the right, three women, all dressed in thong bathing suits and high heels, hovered near a wet bar. They were model thin, on the verge of emaciation. Each one gave him an assessing look as he walked in, and each one smiled after the look.

Rickell was on the far side of the table. Deep circles rimmed his eyes, and his hair was plastered to his head as if by sweat. His skin was a pasty white, and his lips were cracked. He had a stack of chips in front of him, but something told Banner he wasn’t winning. He didn’t have the look of a winner. Banner stepped closer to the table, into the light. Two of the men glanced up from their hands with irritated expressions on their faces. He was interrupting a hand. Rickell never lifted his eyes from his cards. When the other men halted, Rickell looked up. His face took on a resigned expression.

“So they’re searching for me,” he said.

Banner nodded. “Time to go.”

Rickell shook his head. “No.”

Banner had expected this response. Rickell probably viewed himself as Banner’s superior in many of the ways that counted. Without Rickell’s signature, Darkview wouldn’t land the lucrative DOD contracts that kept the company humming. Banner, however, viewed no man as his superior. Either they partnered with him in ventures where both gained something or they stayed away. Rickell’s office had hired Banner to bring Rickell out, and that’s what he’d do.

“We leave now. I haven’t much time.”

“No.”

The men at the table waited, watching them both with interested eyes.

“I’ll drag you out of here if I have to. I’ve been hired to get you, and, as you know, my company delivers. I can’t afford to fail. Not given the current climate surrounding Darkview. Plus, I’ve got mouths to feed.”

Rickell snorted. “You don’t have any children.”

Banner didn’t bother to correct him. “I’ve got office and equipment costs, three hundred and twenty operatives worldwide, a vice president, and a secretary with an expensive tattoo habit who’s putting herself through school.”

The player to Rickell’s right gave a soft laugh. He was one of the silver-haired men who had taken the stairs before Banner. His eyes sparkled with enjoyment. Banner was glad someone was having a good evening, because it certainly wasn’t him. He took a step toward Rickell.

The men at the table shifted. The smiling man raised an eyebrow, lowered his cards to place them facedown on the felt, and spoke in German to the others. Their chairs scraped backward as the players stood. One of them indicated to the girls that they should leave.

“Schnell,” he said. Even Banner knew that meant “fast.”

The girls moved with an alacrity that impressed Banner, given the shoes they wore.

Rickell rose, staring at him the whole time. He was two inches shorter than Banner’s six feet, but fit. Banner thought he’d be easy to beat. Unless the poison gave him superhero powers, Banner didn’t view him as any risk in a fight. None at all. His only problem was going to be subduing Rickell without doing any real harm to him. He would have to pull all his punches.

“I could beat you, you know,” Rickell said.

The other players’ heads swiveled to watch Banner’s response.

Banner kept a level stare. “You’ve got a lot of skills, Mr. Rickell, but fighting isn’t one of them. You benefit from living in a country where the rule of law prevails. I’ve spent most of my life infiltrating those where none exists. It’s going to be no contest.”

The smiling man gazed at Banner with a look of respect. No one spoke.

Rickell waved at his chips. A man emerged from a darkened corner at the back of the room. He placed a holder on the table, counted out Rickell’s chips, and wrote a number down on a pad of paper. He slid the pad toward Rickell and handed him a pen. Rickell signed the receipt without really looking at it.

“You keep that under lock and key?”

The banker nodded.

“Let’s go,” Rickell said.

Banner stepped aside. “After you.”

The other players seemed to sigh in unison. The smiling man caught Banner’s eye and nodded once. Banner returned the gesture.

They made it down the stairs, out the door, and into the narrow lane before they were attacked.

The man came out of nowhere. He raced toward Rickell, his hand outstretched. Banner caught a glimpse of a white-handled weapon in the man’s right hand. Rickell stumbled back as the man hauled off to stab him. Banner threw himself between Rickell and the attacker, knocking the man’s arm out of the way. He swung his left fist into the man’s temple. The attacker grunted, falling back, his arms flailing. Two more men came around the corner.

“Rickell, move!” Banner said. Rickell scrambled up. His expensive leather shoes slipped on the pavement, forcing him down again. Banner grabbed him by the arm, propelling him upward and dragging him down the street, in the direction of his car. He heard the men’s feet pounding behind them. Banner let go of Rickell while he pulled the ignition key out of his pocket. He hit the button to open the doors. The taillights flashed in response.