This was a totally different cafe to the last meeting point apparently in order to ‘circumvent any suspicious third parties’. This was the argument made by the snooty bitch from Mundus Nova.
He had called her to set up the meeting.
He would have been quite happy if they would have met at the same place as last time; she of course was not happy and had insisted on the change of venue.
What the heck, it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do, he thought to himself as he gulped down his third cold coffee and glanced at his watch.
Albert Dacquiri rubbed at the greenish mark on his wrist and scowled.
He was furious that the Rolex he had bought from one of his business associates had turned out to be a fake.
After all, he had paid a hundred bucks for it. He hated to be cheated and made a mental note to castrate the prick the next time he saw him.
He also hated to be kept waiting. He had told the snooty bitch to meet him at ten thirty. She was the one who had given him the deadline.
He had exceeded even his own expectations by closing the deal on the apartments in record time.
He of course realised that the particular party who had owned the real estate were ecstatic to be given the opportunity to offload the derelict ramshackle edifices. They were indifferent to the plight of the low income tenants. It was after all the harsh reality of modern economics.
He smiled at that thought as he had managed to get a good deal and had also managed to pocket quite a handsome sum for himself. Plus he had sold some Intel to the Business Review Weekly.
He smiled as he revelled in his good fortune.
Now where the fuck is the bitch?
He enjoyed a good scratch of his balls, and took another look at his watch.
After another ten minutes he decided that he need not stress. He sat back and clasped his hands behind his head and quietly daydreamed about the nice little tropical island and the young girls and little boys he was going to have fun with in the near future.
He opened his eyes when he sensed that someone had sat opposite him.
“Ahh Ms Smythe, how are you? I trust you have the rest of the money for me?” he asked. A lascivious smile wrinkled the corners of his mouth.
He was never one to beat around the bush.
He burped loudly and scratched at an itch at the corner of his left nostril. He resisted the urge to fully insert his finger. Although he relished the way such an act would make the bitch squirm.
He enjoyed making the high and mighty feel uncomfortable. It was his little way of protesting against nature. He knew that he had lost the genetic lottery in life. He knew that he would never be one of the beautiful people.
I don’t give a fuck as long as I’m filthy rich, he thought as he rolled his tongue and moved the toothpick to the other side of his mouth.
He watched the snooty bitch with amusement as she squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. He knew that she didn’t like him, he didn’t care. He had the cookie.
“Would you please keep your voice down Mr Dacquiri? This is a public place and I prefer to keep business dealings private if you don’t mind.”
“Sure sweetheart, whatever floats ya boat, now where the fuck is my money?” he asked menacingly and leant forward in his seat.
He had just consumed a garlic and onion sandwich and knew that his breath would be particularly potent. He had even foregone the shower this morning. He enjoyed the resultant look of disdain that ran across the bitch’s face.
“I have the money. Just give me the deeds. I want to have a look at them.
If there is the slightest departure from what we had agreed upon, I won’t pay you anything.”
He could see from her expression that she was in no mood for games. He let out a deep breath and reached under the table for his brief case. He placed the battered leather brief case on the table top and opened it up.
He withdrew a wad of documents which he had crammed under a mouldy sandwich and a rather over ripe banana and placed them on the table in front of Smythe.
He tapped his chubby index finger on top of the pile of papers, and then flicked an unknown speck of something from the first page. He then rotated the pile so that the bitch could read them.
“I think you’ll find that this is exactly what you wanted. I even did it quicker than you said.
“Oh yes, by the way I think this is yours,” he said as he opened his hand and dropped a broken tracking device on top of the pages and sneered at the woman.
He saw the slight glint of a smile threaten to crack her perfect makeup.
“You surprise me Mr Dacquiri; I assumed that you would be too stupid to find our little insurance policy.
Now if you’ll excuse me I will just take a quick look at these documents.”
Dacquiri fumed at the woman’s comment but decided that he would keep his comments to himself. He was only interested in getting the money he was promised and then he would get the fuck out of there.
He couldn’t give a rat’s arse about this smug little bitch and her godforsaken organisation. He waited patiently for her to finish poring through the documents.
“Well, is that all? Now do I get what’s owed to me? I want the other half of the money.” he said through gritted teeth.
The woman ignored him, continuing to scan, and reading quickly as she ran her index finger down each page.
When she had finally finished the last page she turned it over and stacked the pages together, aligning them perfectly. She then picked them up and put them in her glossy black leather Jimmy Choo handbag.
She quickly cleared her throat and looked enquiringly Dacquiri.
“Well Mr Dacquiri, everything appears to be in order and, in answer to your question, if you will follow me outside I will make sure that you get what is owed to you.”
“Well ok then. I want it in cash, none of your dodgy cheques you understand?” Dacquiri said as he followed Smythe out of the cafe and out into the street.
“Yes of course Mr Dacquiri, the briefcase with the money is in my car – just follow me.”
By the time they had left the restaurant she had quite a lead on him. He noticed that the little woman could walk rather briskly and he wheezed a bit trying to keep up with her.
This bitch is deliberately trying to give me a heart attack, he thought as he quickened his pace.
He could see that she had ducked off down a side street and suddenly he could feel the hackles rise on the back of his neck.
He had grown up on the streets and knew a trap when he saw one. He yelled after her to make her come back.
“Hey, hang on a minute. I don’t appreciate these games Ms Smythe”, he managed to yell between heavy breaths. There was no response.
You bitch; he thought as he lumbered towards the corner and shouted again.
“You owe me Ms Smythe! Give it to me!”
Focussing on Smythe, he was unaware of the presence behind him until he felt the sharp pain in the back of his neck.
“Ow! What the hell…” he yelled as he slapped his hand over the spot of pain.
The effects of the drug were rapid as he felt himself falling heavily to the ground but was somehow prevented from hitting the ground by a pair of arms.
He looked up through blurred vision and saw a black clad figure holding him. He then felt his feet being lifted off the ground by another person.
“Hey! What the…” was all he could manage to utter before the drugs took effect.
As he lapsed in and out of consciousness he could feel that he was being carried somewhere.
It was then that he heard the distinctive snooty voice of Smythe.
“Take this piece of garbage to the doc and tell him to give Mr. Dacquiri what he deserves.”