True Faith and Allegiance

53

It is extremely rare that a prisoner, once freed, returns to the prison where he served, and to date Alexandru Dalca had proved to be no exception to this rule. He had not been back to Jilava since that day he walked through its gates, and until early this morning, when he woke up panicked that Chinese intelligence officers were circling him, he’d had no immediate plans to do so. But as soon as visiting hours began today he stood waiting at the visitor admittance, signing the book to request a meeting with a current inhabitant of the drab facility.

He’d texted Dragomir Vasilescu and told him he needed some personal time before coming to work because he had to visit a friend in the hospital. Dragomir had replied with “You have a friend?” and Dalca ignored this. He had no intention of ever returning to ARTD, and that would become clear soon enough to his boss. No sense in continuing with any pretense that he liked or even gave a damn about his boss or his company.

Once through the first set of gates at Jilava, Dalca was thoroughly searched, and his phone, wallet, and car keys were removed. He was handled a bit more roughly than the average visitor, he was certain, because the guards doing the frisking remembered him as a former resident, and they extended him neither courtesy nor respect for now residing outside the prison’s walls.

He was escorted into a gymnasium-sized room and told to wait at a table. This was a familiar place to him. He didn’t have family or friends visit him here during his nearly six years of confinement, but his attorneys had sometimes met with him at these tables. Often it had been crowded, standing room only, as all convicts allowed visitors from the outside did so right here.

But this morning, other than a pair of bored guards in the corner and out of earshot, the room was empty.

After five minutes a barred door opened and Luca Gabor strolled in with his hands in the pockets of his prison-issued tracksuit. He seemed mildly surprised to see Dalca, and not particularly pleased about it. Nevertheless, he walked over to the table with a half shrug, though there was no sense of excitement or urgency.

Gabor had been Alexandru’s mentor in prison. A former intelligence officer, he’d left government service to work as a con man, a thief, and a fraudster, rising to the ranks of the most wanted nonviolent criminals in Europe. He’d been arrested in France, then deported to his homeland of Romania, where he was charged and convicted of espionage and treason.

And he was now ten years into a sixteen-year sentence.

Gabor and Dalca had been constant companions, if not friends, in prison; the older man had taught the younger everything he knew, with the promise the younger man would look after Gabor’s family for the years he was on the outside while Gabor languished in here. But Dalca had done no such thing; he broke his promise as soon as he departed through the prison gates, so he wasn’t surprised that Luca Gabor didn’t seem happy to see him when the older man sat down in front of him at the small plastic table in the center of the otherwise empty common area.

Dalca knew Gabor was about fifty, but he looked much older, with his thin white hair, the gray skin of a man who saw little natural light, and deep-set wrinkles.

Gabor lit a cigarette. “I guessed you missed me so bad you came back after sixteen months.”

“And I guess you missed me so bad you’ve calculated the precise time since I left this shitty place.”

Gabor blew smoke. “I knew you’d need something from me someday. I had a running bet with myself that it would be inside two years.”

“You win, as usual, Luca.”

The older man motioned to the walls of the prison around him. “Yeah, I’m a big winner.” He then said, “I won’t ask what you want, at first. I’ll ask what you will give me for whatever it is you want.”

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.”

Dalca rushed up and grabbed him by the arm. “Fuck! All right. Three million. I hate you!”

“You hate everyone. It’s coded into your DNA.”

Dalca ignored the comment. It didn’t offend him in the least, he was still thinking about the money he’d have to pay, and the logistics of getting everything together. “Look… I have to go into work, but I will visit your daughter this evening.”

Gabor nodded. “I will be ready with the information. Will you need help getting out of Bucharest?”

“I… I don’t think so. I don’t know.”

“Well, prepare yourself for any eventuality, because I can’t get you out till tomorrow. Come back here in the morning and I will have everything set up for you. That is, provided that my daughter contacts me to tell me about her sudden windfall.”

Dalca wanted to leave today, but things were more complicated than he’d anticipated. “Fine.”

As the older man turned away, Dalca realized something. “You never asked me what was going on. What I am running from.”

Luca Gabor didn’t stop walking, but just shrugged as he continued to the door. “Why should I? That’s your problem, not mine.”

Alexandru Dalca climbed into his Porsche and drove to work. He hadn’t planned on going in at all. The Chinese could easily be watching ARTD, so every time he went to the building on Strada Doctor Paleologu he knew he was rolling the dice.

But now he needed to take a chance, because he knew he just had to stay safe for one more day, and he’d earn the three million he owed Gabor by finishing his last targeting packages for the ISIS guys. This would still leave Alexandru with eleven million.

His greed had overpowered his fear, but it had been a very close competition between the two.