“You can tell your boss that if there’s another lost shipment, we’re done. I don’t pay for missing or damaged goods. I don’t know what kind of monkey you got running your trucks but he’s a screwup. We haven’t had a shipment in two weeks and my clients are starting to get a little antsy. They’re starting to run out of toys. I’m a businessman and if they’re unhappy, I’m unhappy. Got it?” The obese man sitting across from Edward leaned back into the soft upholstery of the corner booth they were seated in.
Leonard’s Italian Family Restaurant was one of the most popular dining spots in the city of Vancouver, British Columbia. It had been a staple since the late 1920s and every local knew it by name. It was also the front for Boss Harry Greco and served as his headquarters during non-business hours. Greco had spent a lifetime working his way up from boosting cars and knocking over pawnshops to being the head of the local mob. He had a reputation of being a cordial gentleman to your face while his muscle was busy turning your family into bloody chunks. Between the politicians, district attorneys, and cops in his pocket, he was virtually untouchable. No one dared cross Greco. At least, no one that liked to breathe oxygen on a regular basis anyway.
Edward remained nonplussed. “I understand your concerns, Mr. Greco. My mistress is quite irritated at the unanticipated delays as well. She has made sure to “clean house” I believe the parochial term is and offers her deepest apologies.” It rankled Edward to the core to have to kowtow to the simpering obese and balding man who reeked of too much garlic and oncoming diabetes. But he was a faithful servant of his mistress and she had ordered him to make nice with Greco. He would never disappoint her. So he bit his tongue but he could feel his toe claws starting to emerge. He’s even more insufferable than last time. He made sure his face was a neutral mask at all times, though it was difficult with his current audience.
Greco burst out a sharp bark of laughter. “Hah. Apologies he says! Get a load of this guy,” Greco waved to his two bodyguards as he burst out into a full belly laugh. “He comes strutting in, all formal and whatnot, and offers us apologies! That’s one of the best things I’ve heard all year.” As he continued laughing, the other men started joining in. Edward just let it wash over him like a rancid tide.
He tried to not imagine just how easy it would be to kill everyone in the building and burn it to ash before any emergency service arrived. He leaned back into the soft shadows of the booth, glad his ebony skin didn’t show the flash of barely restrained fury at this wretched toad’s rebuke of his mistress’ generosity. He could feel some of his scales start to emerge now and was glad for his jacket’s sleeves.
It would have been an easy thing, even a century ago, to just finance the entire Project Remedium solely by his mistress’s wealth. However, in this modern age of digital tracking, paper trails, forensic reporting, and increasing governmental oversight, Lilith had to turn to alternative revenue streams for her plans despite their best efforts to curtail law enforcement. After all, when you were dealing with a multi-trillion-dollar project, you had to make some compromises to keep your operation a secret from the humans who only thought they were in charge, no matter how distasteful those compromises might be.
She had already tapped all the legitimate sources as far as even someone in her position could go without raising eyebrows so now she had to turn to the illegitimate ones for the remainder. Thus, Edward was now softly tapping his knee as it took every ounce of self-control he had not to tear this man’s head off and relish the crunch of his skull as he chewed and swallowed.
Once Greco had calmed down, he lost all sense of joviality and his voice became razor-sharp. “Listen here you walking mouthpiece, you go back to your “mistress” and you tell her that if she doesn’t come through on her end of our arrangement, I’ll have to declare our contract breached. You won’t have to worry about any fancy courtroom theatrics. We’ll come to you and, well, accidents might start happening to everyone associated with Amethyst. I’ve been paying good money for my merchandise and I’d hate to have to find other arrangements.” He paused in a paltry attempt to intimidate Edward. Edward remained stoic as his stomach roiled in fury. A very muffled tearing sound came from under the table. “I expect the next delivery of goods by the end of the week. No exceptions and the goods better be in pristine condition. You got me? You don’t pull through, we’ll come knocking. Now go.” He waved dismissively. “You’re spoiling my appetite and my manicotti’s getting cold.”
Edward nodded and walked out the door, seething with each step.
He approached the open door of his Rolls Royce and entered as his driver softly closed the door. He had to take a few calming breaths as the car pulled out and began the return drive to the Amethyst building in Seattle. As the car traveled down the road, Edward took solace in the fact that, once this business was finished, there would be a reckoning with “Boss” Greco and it would be an evening he wouldn’t forget for a very long time.
Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed his mistress. She answered on the second ring as usual.
“Report please.”
“Exactly as expected. He made the usual blustering and intimidation. I’ll need a few showers to get that garlic stench off me.”
“Very well. If the Washington situation doesn’t improve, you will take over that operation. This is beginning to give me a headache and you know how I feel about those.”
“Yes, My Lady.”
“Good. That’ll be all Edward.”
