Steve’s shorts: Fascist Tango, Part Four…
Fascist Tango
Copyright 2019, Steven M. Moore
Chapter Ten
Rodrigo’s Club
I sat with them, smiling first at the manager and then at Rodrigo. The gnomish owner’s intentions weren’t clear. After some pleasantries and questions about why I’d emigrated from Colombia, the conversation took another tack.
“I must congratulate you. You fit right in to our dance group.” The beaming Rodrigo flashed his perfect teeth. Implants?
“I’m happy you think so. I needed a job. I think the customers’ applause was for the ensemble, though. All the girls are good dancers.”
“We intercepted some texts. They liked the new addition. That’s you, and it means they’ll be back. This is a business, you know. If we give the people what they want, they’ll come back.” He reached under the table and rested his hand on my upper leg. “That works for me too. You’ll go far here if we become good friends, if you know what I mean.”
I smiled but inwardly shuddered. “Lulu told me. I can show you a good time. Listen! A tango. Do you dance, Señor Jimenez?”
“Yes, but I’m usually the one asking. I’ll lead, though.”
Rodrigo danced a sexy tango. His hands danced too—all over my body. It was disgusting, but it was my job. I’d later analyze why I could survive the experience by thinking of Juan Carlos.
But Rodrigo was called away, so I was left alone with the manager.
“The boss is a good dancer,” I observed.
“Many Latinos are good dancers, as you well know. My German heritage gets in my way, I fear. My wife complains about it.”
“Maybe she should learn the polka?”
“Prussian blood, not Bavarian.” He smiled but then turned serious. “Be careful with Rodrigo. He likes rough sex. Even the kind where you have to put a plastic bag over your head.”
“I’m not into S&M,” I said.
“He’s more S than M.”
***
In the wee hours of the morning, Rodrigo still hadn’t returned. Only the bartender was left cleaning up along with his assistant, who was stacking chairs on table tops. I decided to take a tour of the club’s offices. They were in the back where the loos were, so I figured it wouldn’t seem odd that I would visit them before heading home.
With the prosthetics, I had a lot of strength, but I didn’t want to just wrench the door knob out of the door–too obvious. But I could pick the lock, using my augmented hearing to sense the tumblers turning. In five seconds, I was inside.
Desk and file cabinets were unlocked. I went through their contents in a flash. Mostly boring business stuff associated with the club. I used my built-in RF link to upload some copies to the group’s secure cloud maintained by its AI network, but I doubted they would be useful.
In a closer examination of the office, I found a wall safe hidden behind the painting of a nude. It had an electronic combination lock, fingerprint ID, and a retina scanner. It would take some doing to break into it. I was calculating how long when my super-hearing picked up Rodrigo’s voice at the club’s entrance.
I slipped out of the office and entered the women’s WC. When I heard the door to his office close again, I returned to the main club area.
“Hasta mañana,” I said to the bartender and his aide as I left.
That safe would be on my short list for finding more about El Vengador and his Libertad con Responsibilidad group of friends.
Chapter Eleven
At the Pension
Juan Carlos and I were having some aguardiente in his pension room, that potent Colombian drink made from fermented sugar cane and flavored with anise, when I put my finger to my lips to silence him. That early in the morning there were few noises to be heard. Of course, even if there were noises, my noise-cancellation software would help me separate signal from noise.
I held up my right hand, counting to four for the four men who had just come up the stairs and were in the hallway. He nodded, went to his briefcase, and took out four guns. They all had silencers. He tossed me two, and we took positions at opposite sides of the door. He then killed the lights. Made no difference to me: my IR sensors kicked in.
There was a loud knock. A voice said, “Policia!”
In a fascist state, even the police are dangerous, but Rodrigo shook his head in the negative, confirming my opinion.
I laughed out loud, startling Juan Carlos. “Vayanse. Estamos ocupados y no vestidos.” I was telling them to go because we were occupied and not dressed. If they were Latinos, they’d fill in the details.
Some people just don’t respect lovers’ privacy. They broke down the door. The laser beams looked for targets in the gloom but found none.
“Drop your weapons!” Juan Carlos said.
Luckily he jumped aside. The firefight that ensued went bad for the four intruders. We stared at their bodies.
“Besides the fact that we now have four weapons to add to our arsenal, this is another cluster-fuck,” I said. “What are we going to do with the bodies?”
“At least I was right. They’re not real cops.” The four lay in pools of blood and brain matter. “Let’s pile them into my bed. We’ll clean up in your room and get a few hours of sleep. Early tomorrow, we’ll get rid of the bodies and sheets.” He jerked a thumb toward the window. “There’s a convenient dumpster below for the bodies. I’ll bribe a maid to clean up the rest.”
He was so calm about it. As I lay beside him listening to his soft snores, I wondered why. Maybe he’s been doing this too long?
***
The maid was calm too. Juan Carlos told her they were gang members. A large bill sealed the deal. We went down to breakfast. He was humming a tango. I thought it was “Malena,” but without the lyrics, I couldn’t be sure.
“You seem happy enough,” I said as we took our seats at the table.
The pension’s old owner immediately arrived with coffee, so he only nodded.
“I’m happy to be alive,” he said after she left with our orders. He winked. “Sleeping with a beautiful woman does that to a man.”
“Nothing happened, so get over it. And we just killed four people. That always upsets me. I often wonder if we stoop as low as the people we’re trying to stop.”
“That’s why I got out of the business.” He eyed me. “How do you propose to get into that safe?”
“I can be obvious and just rip it off its hinges, or I can be more subtle. The latter takes more time. And the real problem is to get into that office again. I’ll have to wait for early morning like I did last time. At least I know what’s of interest now.”
He shrugged. “There might not be anything interesting in that safe.”
“Maybe. But there could be in another one, even if it’s just a dedicated laptop. He wouldn’t trust any info with a bank’s safety deposit box, would he?”
He shook his head. “Probably not. He’d want it close too. I don’t think I can help you there.”
I nodded. I delayed saying anything until the old woman put our platters in front of us. On them was chipá and carne asada with a huevo frito on top. That was a lot more than I usually ate, but I was hungry and didn’t know when I would eat again.
My appointment with Rodrigo’s safe was in my future, but I wondered if the SOB would try to hit on me. After that pawing tango, I believed he might try.
Chapter Twelve
Rodrigo’s Club
“How’s my sweetheart doing?” Rodrigo asked me.
I was sitting with Lulu backstage.
“Buenas noches, Señor Jimenez,” we both said.
“I’ll see you after the show,” he said, smiling at me. “I would like to take you on a tour of my mansion.”
We watched him leave.
“You’re in trouble now,” said Lulu. “Be careful. He’s a sadist.”
“Someone else told me that. Have you ever been to his mansion?”
“Not recently. He grows tired of his conquests.”
“Can you describe it to me? If I really get in trouble, maybe there’s somewhere to hide.”
“That’s not likely. His goons are all over the place. There’s the main floor that looks like a drug lord’s been decorating—all kinds of expensive artwork without rhyme or reason, except a lot of it on the second floor features naked people. If you’re lucky, he’ll just show you that to see your reaction. Believe me, his penis can’t compare with those in the paintings and on the statues.”
“How many rooms are there on the first floor?”
“I never counted them. In the basement and attic are servants quarters, and there are twelve bedrooms on the second floor, eleven for guests. The goons camp out in the carriage house in the back next to the huge garage that contains all his expensive cars.”
“Maybe I can say I’m interested in those to distract him. I suppose the real valuable things he keeps in a bank?”
“What? Are you going to rob him?”
I smiled. “Maybe. That would pay better than dancing in this club.”
She laughed. “Go for it, girl! I’d love to see someone do that to him. A bit of payback for what he’s done to me and the other girls.”
“So I’m guessing there’s a vault in the mansion?”
“In the study. I saw it opened once when he called me in. He wanted to do it on the floor in front of the study’s fireplace.”
“How romantic.” I thought a moment. “If I don’t succeed, please come to my funeral.”
“You’re so depressing. If you don’t succeed, make sure you take him and some of the goons out. They’re all SOBs.”
***
Rodrigo went to another club to meet with Jerry Lawton.
“I think we’ve located Juan Carlos,” Rodrigo said to Lawton.
The gringo shrugged. “I’m a big picture fellow, remember? I don’t give a shit about your personal vendettas. I thought I came down here to meet your people and plan a world war on leftists. We have a lot of information. Let’s exterminate the bastards.”
“With your cash infusions, that will be possible. I have people negotiating with arms dealers right now.” He smiled. “Some even want to join up. They’ll make millions, of course.” The smile turned to a frown. “But I again lost men who went after Juan Carlos, four of them. We need him dead before I can proceed.”
“Juan Carlos is small potatoes. Don’t lose your focus and become myopic. Our movement is too important for that.”
“We are in agreement. But Juan Carlos might be a thorn in our side for a long time if we don’t eliminate him. Little by little, Mr. Lawton. That’s always been the secret of my success. The Roman Empire wasn’t built in a day.”
“I believe in the adage it was the city of Rome, but I like your version better. We’re working on the new empire where the best rulers can rule. So when do I meet your people?”
“Tomorrow night. I’m busy the rest of the evening.”
“I’ll take in some clubs then.”
“Not mine, por favor. We shouldn’t be seen together that much, or even associated. I work in the shadows, remember. Most of our organization doesn’t even know who I am. I want to keep it that way.”
“There are other clubs.”
***
Comments are always welcome.
The Last Humans. Ex-USN and LA Sheriff’s Department diver Penny Castro goes on a forensic dive and surfaces to find a dying world as far as human civilization is concerned. She struggles to survive. Her adventures—and there are many—aren’t for the faint of heart. This post-apocalyptic thriller published by Black Opal Books in both ebook and print versions is available at the publisher’s website, online retailers like Amazon and Smashwords and the latter’s affiliated retailers (iBooks, B&N, Kobo, etc), and bookstores (if they don’t have it, ask for it).
Around the world and to the stars! In libris libertas!
