True Faith and Allegiance

Dalca could be an incredibly charismatic smooth talker, but he wouldn’t waste his breath on charming Luca Gabor. The man was the one person in the world who knew him inside and out. Instead, he said, “I have money. Enough for your family.”

“You had money within a week of your release. You’re at ARTD, you are their rock star, you drive a new Porsche Panamera Turbo and live in a penthouse apartment in Primăverii.” Primăverii was the most desirable section of Bucharest, overlooking the Dâmboviţa River.

Dalca said, “Yeah, I assumed you had people on the outside keeping an eye on me. Knowledge is power, you used to say.”

“Did I say that?” Gabor smoked in silence a moment. “Well… I was full of shit. I have knowledge now, but no power.” He leaned forward. “What the hell do you want, you fucking snake?”

“I want to make you a rich man.”

“Go fuck yourself, I’m not some geriatric in America you called to sell a fake land deal. I know you, Dalca. You will screw me over.”

Dalca shook his head. “I know where your daughter lives.”

Gabor jolted upright, almost lunging forward.

Dalca was not startled. He said, “That’s not a threat, that’s an opportunity. I will go visit her today and give her access to a numbered bank account in Cyprus. There will be one million U.S. in the account.” Dalca smiled. “All for her.”

The older man’s eyes narrowed. “Give me your sales pitch, snake. I’ll listen, because I am a prisoner and I don’t have anything else to do.”

“I need you to put me in touch with the Macedonians.”

Gabor cocked his head. “Which Macedonians?”

“Don’t play games,” Dalca said. “You told me there were men who ran a casino in Macedonia. You said they had tried to hire you many times to work for them. You said you were sure they’d take me when I got out, they’d set me up in the casino targeting guests for schemes. You also told me I should only go with the Macedonians if I was desperate, or if someone was after me, because they were crazy and trigger-happy gangsters.”

Gabor tapped his cigarette in the ashtray on the table. Slowly he broke into a raspy laugh.

Dalca was frustrated by Gabor’s lack of response. “Why do you pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about?”

The older man got control of his laugh now. “I was genuinely confused. You said ‘Macedonians.’ The men I told you about do own a casino in Macedonia, in Skopje, and they do have the ability to employ and protect someone with skills like ours, just like I said. But they aren’t Macedonians. They are…” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Albanian.”

Dalca slumped back in his chair. “Shit. You never told me that.”

“Didn’t I?” Gabor asked, enjoying the look of dread on Alex’s face. “Scary fuckers, Alexandru. But if you are in the shit, and let’s not kid ourselves, you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t in the shit, then you want some scary fuckers on your side.”

Dalca considered this. He was afraid of Albanian gangsters. Everyone in this part of the world knew about their danger and reach. Still, Dalca felt like this might be his only way to safety, considering his predicament.

In the end it was an easy calculation for him to make. Treacherous Albanians who would pay him and protect him were vastly preferable to dangerous Chinese who would torture him and kill him.

“All right, Luca. I’ll give your daughter one million for you to arrange an introduction between these Albanians and me.”

Gabor puffed on his cigarette and answered through the haze of smoke. “You already owe me that million for everything I taught you. You owe me another million in penalties for breaking our deal when you got out of prison. The third million you are going to give to my daughter for my introduction to the Albanians.”

A vein throbbed on Dalca’s forehead. “No. No way. You must think I’m insane.”

Gabor smiled. “Good-bye, Dalca. And good luck, because I get the feeling you’re gonna need it.” The raspy laugh came back.

“I’m out of here.” Dalca started to stand from the table, but then he thought of his dreams, the panic he woke with, and he sat back down. “A million five.”

“Three million.”

“Don’t be a fool, Luca. You can set yourself, your daughter, and your grandkids up for life!”

“Believe me, I intend to. With three million dollars.” When Dalca made no reply, Gabor said, “I see it in your face. Your terror. Your desperation.”

“I don’t have three million.”

“Bullshit. Whatever has got you this scared, it was something you did that got you paid. You wouldn’t take such a risk for chicken feed. If you are offering me one million out the gate, that means you have, at least, ten.”

Dalca had eleven, exactly, and he marveled at Gabor’s deductive reasoning while simultaneously wanting to rip his heart out.

He said, “I’ll give you two, but no more.”

Now Gabor stood, turned for the barred door. To the guard standing there he shouted, “I’m ready.”

“Enough with the theatrics, Luca. I know you won’t walk away from two million.”

“And I know you won’t give up your life for one million more.”