The Steel Shark

Chapter 27

Avi’s shoulder ached. Tesla’s bodyguard, Vivian Torres, had wrenched it as if she knew he was injured. He rolled both shoulders as well as he could and sent a calming breath to his aching joint. He couldn’t afford to be paranoid or angry. He’d been in custody enough times to know staying calm and acting just submissive enough would keep him alive.

The beefy American policeman seemed almost kind as he shepherded Avi through the busy concourse. He stayed close, but he didn’t need to. Avi couldn’t outrun him, not with his hands cuffed behind his back. He’d trip, and without his hands to catch him, it would be an ugly fall. He might even lose teeth. Better to bide his time.

With extra care, he walked forward, weaving away from a crowd of men in suits. Their dark suits were identical, except for a rainbow pattern of ties — reds, blues, pinks, and yellows. He wouldn’t see such refined clothing for a while, and he saved up the memories of such fine things.

The men in suits didn’t spare him a second glance. The story of his life. No one noticed him, even when he was trussed up like a string of lizards meant for the table. The gift and curse of looking ordinary.

The policeman caught him when he stumbled, and pain knifed through his shoulder. He kept the pain from showing on his face or in his body. He wouldn’t display weakness in front of his enemies. His training in torture would prove a useful gift. Although he didn’t expect the Americans to torture him. His lawyer would negotiate his release or extradition back to his home country, and his compatriots there would set him free. Only a matter of waiting out the time and preserving his silence. The wheels of justice turned slowly, and the wheels of international justice more slowly still. He needed to marshal his strength to outlast the machine.

They reached the street. A police car waited in front of the grand doors like a valeted limousine. A man so tall he could have played basketball instead of working with criminals opened the back door, and Avi was pushed into the backseat.

It didn’t smell like a limousine. It smelled of vomit and piss and the sharp bite of ineffectual disinfectant. He sat as straight as he could. He would have to shut down his finely honed senses to survive the next months, and he felt too old to do that one more time.

“—guy give you any trouble?” the tall one asked.

“Miss Torres subdued him.” The redhead chuckled. “Kicked his ass one-handed.”

Not entirely accurate, but Avi wouldn’t allow himself to be baited into a response. The car lurched forward, then stopped in traffic. This action was repeated again and again. Every stop pained his shoulder.

As Avi headed to jail, Joe Tesla was being set free. The man could go back to work, wander around Grand Central and his beloved tunnels, wear fine suits, and date gorgeous women. He would do these things while Avi waited behind bars. But not for long.

He was angry at Tesla, but he was mostly angry at himself. After the dog caught the first fly, he should have left. But he’d been anxious to finish the contract and leave New York. He’d grown weary of the long wait, and he’d let himself become careless. Maybe he was too old.

As old as he was, he’d known to install fail-safes for this exact situation. If he didn’t check in soon, his employer would be notified he was unable to complete the contract at this time, and they would probably hire another man to mete out justice to Tesla.

But if they failed, Avi would come back. He wouldn’t give up until the man was dead. And as the man’s life was slipping away, Avi would turn his attentions to the tall woman who had thwarted his plans and wounded his arm and his pride.

She would not escape either.