Reflection, p.22
Reflection, page 22
part #2 of The Infected - Mirror Man Series
“Kid! Gary!” The voice was a bit away from him but he spun in place, his short legs making the move a bit slow seeming. It wasn’t a rapid pivot or anything.
The voice belonged to a man in a suit, with two large guards next to him. It was, almost certainly the man that had wanted the mixed drinks the night before.
So he waved as he scrambled over. After all, he was there to sell things like drinks and food. If that meant being called kid… Well, it was an improvement over boy. Enough so that he nearly tried to smile, before realizing that kind of thing wasn’t happening with his currently pointed face. Instead he waved.
“What can I get for you gentlemen tonight?”
There were two smiles from the men. The one in the center who’d been talking and the bodyguard on the left. Next to the chubbier fellow in the middle was another man. The clothing he had on was nice, also being a suit, if one in a deep purple color. Like what a pimp might have worn, in a seventies movie. Except the cut was better. It seemed tailored and had narrow lapels with a waist that was drawn in.
It was the one from the night before that spoke however.
“I was just telling Danny here that I knew you. From last night… but still that counts, right?”
Which it didn’t, though he nodded anyway. There was no harm in being friendly, after all.
“Of course! You had a scotch and a burger. All of that was good?” He didn't really know, since he’d only been eating the buns and fixings for his food. That and fries. The protein would make him drunk, basically, or so he’d been told. At least if he had too much of it at once.
It was a thing to try, before changing back to his old face. Not that he was willing to do that kind of thing while on a job like they were. He’d made a few mistakes already. Getting wasted on anything would leave him open to doing a lot more than that, at a bet.
There was a grunt from the man then.
“Not bad, considering this isn’t a five-star restaurant. Anyway, could you get us some burgers? Maybe a couple of sodas? Coke or whatever you have here?” There was a glance at the man in the purple suit, who nodded.
Then he spoke in a mellow enough voice. It sounded more refined than the other guy.
“That sounds good. If I could get a diet? I need to watch what I eat, for work.”
Which told Gary a lot about the man. He wasn’t built, so probably wasn’t an athlete or a fighter, even if thin. What he looked like was anyone’s guess. He was white and seemed symmetrical, which probably meant good looking. His hair was a deep brown, as were his eyes. Even given that, nothing about the man seemed familiar.
“I can do that, if you aren’t too picky? Onions on the burgers?”
The new man didn’t want that, where the heavier guy did. That probably meant they weren’t planning on kissing later that night, even if they were together for the evening. Instead of calling over someone to deliver the things, Gary did it himself. After all, the match was starting again and it would take him a few minutes to get things together.
“Hey, Lannie? Can I get two burgers, one with onions, no mayo. The other with everything except onions, one coke and one diet coke.” They had more drink options than that, though most just got the basic beverages there. It was as if they didn't want to worry about making a mistake or making things too hard on the vendors.
Except that it was probably some other factor than that. The crowd wanted what they wanted, like anyone else in life. These people, mainly men, weren’t going to worry about what was easier for the people making the sales, in particular.
The slightly older red-head winked at him.
“For Mr. Scarpetti and Danny Leer? That’s surprising, isn’t it? You wouldn’t think that they’d know each other.”
Gary felt all of his eyes blink then. While he had no clue who a Danny Leer was, other than his purple suited customer, the name Scarpetti range a bell. One that called him back about fifty years.
“Tommy Scarpetti?” It wasn’t exactly a common surname, after all.
Lannie, who had her head down, writing, nodded.
“Tom Scarpetti. He works with Ronaldo from time to time. A regular here, so I bothered to learn the name. Do you know him?” She said it like that wasn’t likely at all.
The truth was that Gary didn’t. Not precisely. It was more that his father, if it was the same Tom Scarpetti, had been a major west coast crime figure about fifty years before. The kind that had made a point to buy stolen goods, very high-end ones, from him. More than once. The man had a weakness for paintings from the old masters.
Gary on the other hand had been good at collecting things like that from secret, rather secure, facilities. It had made for a rather close relationship for a while. They hadn’t been friends exactly but the man had talked about his boy often enough for the name to stick in his head. The last that he’d heard the kid had just graduated from law school.
Not intending to follow in his father’s footsteps at all. A thing that his crooked old man had been rather proud of, if he recalled correctly. Which he did. All of it came back to him perfectly, in fact.
They had to make up the burgers. Which were ready to be assembled and wrapped in their foil covered paper wrappers. While that was being done Gary was able to set up his trays for the next break in the action, while getting a third, empty one around to place the food order in. the drinks came first, in their red plastic cups, followed by piping hot burgers. Put in place by Lannie herself.
“Here you go, Gary! Thanks.” She didn’t explain why thanking him was in order at all. She seemed to mean it though. At least there was a smile with the words that seemed real enough.
“No problem. I’ll be right back for the other trays.”
It took scurrying to get to the men with their order. Most people didn’t bother getting anything special like that, so it was a bit strange. Still, it helped to make any sale they could and Scarpetti was a regular there. That meant it was probably worth going out of his way to make the man happy. Within reason.
The fighting was happening again, with Sansosa seeming a bit more desperate to close with Peg this time. There were some rather frantic seeming tackles that didn’t work, since he was just shrugged off and tossed to the side. Double leg take-downs, that were countered with hip tosses.
Gary knew what the moves were, based on what everyone had been saying during practices. That and having caught a bit on television, over the years. No one at Shady Lane had been a huge modern style fight fan. That didn’t mean a few pay-per-view matches hadn’t been on the television a couple of times.
He hadn’t really paid attention to them. They were still there though, in his head. Perfectly, or nearly so. That kind of surprised him, since at the time he’d been pretty certain that he’d slept through most of the events.
Now they were all there as if he’d been analyzing them carefully at the time. He kept an eye on the match while he made his way over to the two customers. Mr. Scarpetti passed over a hundred-dollar bill as he took the food. It was a lot to make change for but Gary had it on him. Doing the math in his head he nodded.
“Eighteen even for that. Here…” He started to pull the cash from the pocket on his front, where he was keeping it all.
That got waved away.
“Nah, you keep that, Gary. I know that it isn’t your job to wait on us like this. Real nice of you, though. Thanks.”
Next to him, Danny Leer smiled.
“Yes, thank you.” There was a pause, as he unwrapped the burger, which seemed to be to his liking well enough he didn't mention the order at all. “Um… Do you know who that woman is? The official in the bikini? She’s incredible. I work with actresses all the time and none of them are both that good looking and can do their own stunts like that.”
Gary found the words a bit off. The tone of them was wrong, really. It wasn’t exactly like the man was hiding sexual interest or anything, either. That might have been part of it, there was just a hint of something else in the words.
“Nancy? She’s a friend of mine. We go way back, actually. She came here to be a fighter. This stuff is just something to do while they’re getting her a match. Peg, the woman in the ring? She’s actually Nancy’s trainer. Price, too. You know, the hard liquor guy? I’m their manager, in case you wonder how they got so lucky as to get to hang around with me. Sansosa was just too good of a match-up for Peg to pass up, so it was put together. This is a solid match.” He leaned in a bit and whispered. “Peg is holding way back. Bet on her in the next round or two.”
They didn’t have to follow the advice. It was clear that people around them had heard him as well.
Scarpetti smiled at him.
“Oh? I might just do that. Thanks, Gary.”
The man might get him in trouble for the inside information. Then again, Peg could make a mistake and lose. It was, as everyone had kept informing him, a real fight. If one that wasn’t in the regular man’s favor. In the ring things looked pretty good, however.
At the break one of the bodyguards got up and moved to the betting window, which probably meant his advice was at least being looked into. As soon as the man got up, almost as if they’d been waiting for something like that to happen, three rather large fellows, dressed in casual clothing, though the kind that made them seem like biker gang members rather than comfortable t-shirts and jeans, made their way toward Scarpetti. They did not seem to be happy about it either.
“Crap.” One of them had a knife out already, as he moved in, ready to stab, or at least threaten someone. “Price! Everyone!” He stopped for a moment, then yelled louder. “Hey, Rube!”
That was old carny slang. A thing that Gary had only been briefly, on rare occasion, since it had made a good cover to move into a few areas. He’d done it several times though. No one there had told him they knew about that kind of thing but several people came anyway. One of them was Price, since his name had been called. The other was the woman he thought was Jelana.
Setting his trays on the ground, Gary bent over and ran at the man with the knife. On all sixes. That was far faster and easier than waddling at him. Enough so that it was truly clear to him that Ysidril were simply designed to move that way. Even on the concrete floor he was moving at about thirty or forty miles per hour. When he jumped at the end getting to the attackers just in time for one of them to yell, he managed to leap over the six patrons that were in the way.
“Die you mother fucking leech!” This was from knife guy, who stopped talking suddenly when a hundred and twenty-five pounds of nearly flying Gary hit his back. The knife arm was grabbed with two right hands, the left with the lower left as they both moved toward the ground. Or at least into the laps of the men there. Scarpetti in particular.
The bodyguard that was still there moved to wrestle with one of the other large attackers, as Price hit the last one from behind. In the back of the neck. It worked very well to stop him from doing much of anything. Gary paused for a bit, not really being much of a fighter himself. The man he was on top of had a knife still, so he started hitting the man in the back of the neck with his free upper left hand. That didn't exactly end the fight instantly.
Mr. Scarpetti rallied after ten or fifteen blows and added in a few of his own. Somewhere in there the man they were hitting dropped the blade like a good would be killer and slumped toward the floor, unconscious. The whole thing hadn’t taken long at all. They were still in the betting window between rounds, even.
When he looked up, Gary noticed that almost all of his vending crew was there, grabbing the men and pulling them away. Which made for two problems. The first was that they had three violent people to handle. They couldn’t just turn them over to the cops, either. Not at an illegal fight club.
The second problem was that his people weren’t making their sales.
“Uh… Price, Jelana and um…” He pointed at a man who looked powerful enough, if normal, more or less. He had vaguely pearl colored skin and a funny concessions hat that said staff on it.
Helpfully the fellow nodded.
“Mick.”
“Right. Thanks. You three take these guys to the back. Everyone else… Free drinks for the people in this section. Sorry about the disruption here folks. We try to keep the fighting in the ring! Don’t forget to buy some peanuts to go with those drinks!”
He walked on two legs back to his trays, only to find that four patrons that had been attacked were with him when he got there. The two large bodyguards, Leer and Scarpetti, to be exact. The fight in the ring started on time, with the three violent men being pulled away into the back area of the arena by the others.
It was Tommy that spoke for them. He sounded authoritative, as if he were suddenly in his element.
“We need to question those men. Normally I’d call the police, since it looks like attempted murder… This is an illegal operation, so that might change things.”
That probably would, normally. Thinking for half a second, time seeming to almost slow down in a strange way while he did it, Gary nodded.
“We’ll call in the local IPB. We have a bit of a deal worked out with them. They keep the cops off our backs, as long as we run things the way they want. No deaths here or people getting too hurt. I have some numbers for that. They’ll probably pass it over to the regular police, unless those guys that tried for you are Infected.”
The man, who had a law degree at least, seemed up on that kind of thing.
“They’d need to be called in anyway. That should work. I don’t recognize any of them. Sorry about this, Danny. This isn’t the way my normal evening goes.”
Then, instead of marching them all to the back instantly, the four men let Gary go and offload his trays. They were just set on the counter of the concessions stand.
Lannie looked scared, her eyes wide, when he got there.
“Are you all right? All of you? I saw that there was a fight.”
They largely nodded, though one of the guards had bruises on his face. If it bothered him he wasn’t letting it show, otherwise.
Glancing that the woman, Gary nodded.
“We should be fine enough. I need to head to the back to see to this. Oh! I comped drinks for that entire section over there. I’ll pay for it, if need be. We need to get everyone out and selling hard on the next bit. We’re going to be four people down. I hate to leave the floor like this…”
That got waved away. She looked concerned, without seeming too worried about a bit of lost revenue. Probably because they made most of the money on gambling, which hadn’t been disrupted at all, so far.
“Hurry back. We’ll handle this part.”
There was some calling out, to other people as they moved away. That was toward the back, with Gary pulling out his black and rather bland burner cell phone. He was calling the IPB, after all. Not that he couldn’t call anyone he chose on it.
The number he dialed was Agent Glade’s cell, even if he had three numbers to pick from in his memory. That would reach the right place, more or less. The thing picked up almost instantly.
“Glade here.”
“This is Gary, at the fight club? We met earlier. We just had a bit of a dust up here. Civilian on civilian. It looks like attempted murder of one of our patrons. We have the three men that did it in the back right now. The people attacked seem to be important, so we instantly thought of you and your friends. Plus, we can’t let people trying to kill people go. We run a clean establishment here.”
Which was a lie. Everything they did was at least a bit crooked. Even the concessions probably weren’t paying their taxes or something like that. Illegal operations didn’t pay things like that, as a rule.
There were questions then, with the phone being handed over to Scarpetti so that Glade could speak to the man personally. When it was handed back, the Agent grunted at him.
“We’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Try to keep anyone from killing the hostiles if possible? That makes it too hard to question them.”
“Sure. This is taking away from my real work here, selling food and drinks… Which isn’t your fault. It just annoys me.”
From the cheering someone had just won the fight in the ring. Turning to look, he saw that Peg was standing and Sansosa wasn’t. After a bit, Ronaldo came on over the loud speaker.
“The winner, by knockout in the fourth round… Peg! Let’s hear it for her!”
There was polite applause, which wasn’t really good enough. As he walked Gary started to clap and chant.
“Peg, Peg, Peg.” Interestingly, Danny Leer did it too, which got things started with the crowd. That was bit better. It didn't last long, though it was just ending as they got to the doors that led into the back hallway.
Gary figured that the men would be kept in the main office, for some reason. Price and the others had decided that locking them up in the gym area was the better plan. With several guards standing right there the whole time.
Waving at them all, his concessions crew people, Gary went into what was going on.
“The IPB is handling this for us. We’ll back them up when they get here.”
The woman, Jelana, winced. Hard and like she meant it.
“The IPB? Fuck. What if they start killing us all?”
Looking in her direction, Gary shook his head.
“Nah. They’re on our side in this. Mainly they’re going to be here to cover our backs with the regular cops. Sally and I met with them earlier, about that thing last night.” He looked at the men, Scarpetti and the others, since they wouldn’t know about everything. “We had a fake SWAT set up thing here last night. Someone claimed a class five was holding hostages and wrecking the place. We got out in time to save everyone, then the IPB got them to back off, since nothing was happening.”
