One in Ten Ch. 07

"There has to be something we can give Israel to keep him on an even keel," Vabishi asked Fraklos.

"I'm not good enough at that sort of thing to take the chance," Fraklos then looked to Capri.

"Fuck you both," she stood, "I'm a lawyer."

My phone rang. 'GED' it read. I typed back 'ty' and cut the connection.

"Time to go," I announced and headed for the kitchen. My guardian angels were working overtime.

There are few things as beautiful as competence under stress. Not me. The three women tagging along with a lunatic didn't question me; they divined my intentions and moved to cushion me from the world. By the time we exited the back of the café, Fraklos was in the lead, then me, Capri and Vabishi looking back from signs of pursuit.

"Ewoks," Fraklos guffawed. "We need better code words." Ewoks meant Vanishers and Admiral Squid meant I didn't need to be brought in. Next time we would use different words. Dimples said it was a book cipher – essentially unbreakable if you didn't know the material.

"Be happy I didn't fall over laughing," Capri snickered.

"Israel, you play crazy really well," she added. "I'd feel better about it if you weren't actually crazy."

"Who are we evading?" Vabishi spoke up.

"GED," I answered.

The problem facing me and Dimples' crew was that we weren't the Vanishers. We couldn't manipulate phone and surveillance feeds. Slipping down alleyways while avoiding loading areas left us in the 'digital dark'. We were going to reemerge soon.

"We are trying to shift through the chatter and figure out who is really trying to get their hands on you," Fraklos clued me in.

"Montanyard is building such an air-tight case against you she could patch the Hindenburg," Vabishi stated. "She thinks she can hold them off a week." Shelia could hold off the full weight of the Federation Government for a week – one week. I needed a fucking miracle.

(Magdalena – Round Two)

My two FBI ladies delivered me as close to the Prometheus Club as they dared. Mobsters had eyes too, though this was actually a pointless exercise since the moment 'Little M' asked me what I was up to I would bury her in the minutia of truth instead of the real deal. Capri would stick with me. Mainly because the FBI would have to taser her to keep her from my side.

As I entered the restaurant, I was getting a whole new look. It was the 'what in the hell is this guy still doing walking around?' expression. Either I was a maniac or a national resource, or maybe both – not all of them could decide. The maître de pointed me toward the semi-curtained off area. A second later he motioned Capri to the bar. We knew this was going to happen.

On my side of the curtain were two women; one sitting, one standing. They didn't look like – well, what I though mobsters would look like. They looked normal. The standing one ran a 'wand' over me then ran her free hand over my frame quickly.

"Are you hiding anything?" she finally spoke.

I have a love affair with pain. That was all I could think of when I opened my mouth.

"I had my knee caps replaced with high explosives. Does that count?" I stated resolutely. She stared at me for a second then this smile crept over her intimidating countenance.

"Damn, you really are a nut," she snickered. "This way." She put a hand on my shoulder, I trembled and she led me into the VIP area.

Three of the tables were occupied. The closest had Flame and this woman whose face looked like it had lost a head-on collision with a truck. She also looked to be around 250 pounds. The second table, close to an exit, had two Hispanic women who had to be sisters, and pissed that they were missing out on their 'killing kittens' time.

I was dealing with being manhandled, near terror, proximity issues, and being in the company of yet more casual killers. Somehow, all of this had to be my fault. Regular men stay locked in their homes. I needed help. I shrugged off the hand on my shoulder and made a bee-line for Flame.

There was a 'whiff' behind me as my guide tried to corral me back in, but failed. Flame and her 'buddy' (I was pretty sure it was a woman – or a man with huge pecs) stood up. I extended my hands forward and just above my hips. Flame and I collided. Her hands went to my ass. My right cupped her leather clad left butt cheek while my left wrapped fully around her lower back, touching something big and hard.

We did more than kiss. Flame discovered that I had my wisdom teeth removed and I learned that she still had her tonsils. It was also revealed to me that during a French kiss, Flame likes to bite tongue – my tongue, her tongue – it doesn't seem to matter. We were both healthy adults with the experience to know that breathing through your nose is a must.

It took us a while to come up for air. I had pulled her up until she was on her toes. Her eyes were boring holes into mine.

"I need some strength," I whispered to her. Now, there is no great Gestalt among the insane. There is no shared universe, psychosis, or delusion.

What we do share is the fear and pain that comes from being trapped in our own minds. The greatest creation of man, our brains, had betrayed us. We were living a lie because our truths would destroy us. And, worst of all, we were alone. That is why crazy people lash out. It isn't to hurt others, it is to make others stop hurting us – with a reality that we see as a lie.

I breached that inky bubble that shrouded Flame's mind. It didn't make her my friend. It didn't stop her from being a beast and a sadist. We were alone together. Each alone, but knowing that the other was in the same condition. It wasn't understanding, it was kinship. Flame reached up with her right hand, made a fist, and lightly tapped me on the forehead.

"There you go," she smiled. I returned the smile and let her down. As I turned to walk away, she spanked my ass hard. I kept walking, but half-turned so I could shake a finger at her.

"Just for that, no tongue penetration during our next cunnilingus session," I threatened her.

"Oh, you love it, Bitch," she laughed. Turning to her buddy, "That guy is loads of fun."

Belatedly, I came to Magdalena's table. It was a round table, two-thirds wrapped up in a booth. To my right was this weightlifting scumbag – oily, arrogant and stupid. Sometimes people don't try to hide their ignorance. I wasn't sure this guy even knew what ignorance was, much less how to spell it.

He had too much time in a tanning booth, too much chest hair and a cultivated five o'clock shadow. He was also in a chair which suggested he wasn't someone important. Next were two women, dressed nicely – Francesca-nice, not Isobel-nice. They weren't likely to be putting any ships into orbit anytime soon, but they were clever enough to observe before commenting from their booth seats.

In the center was Magdalena in a dark blue Kashmir shirt with a plunging neckline. Damn that woman was proud of her big mammaries. Her jewelry was understated, her hair nicely done and her eyes laser-quick. Next to her was this guy – ruggedly handsome, manly, yet...missing something? It hit me. He was a gigolo and 'Little M's boyfriend/property.

Here I was thinking he'd been shot while trying to escape. Next to the Man-candy was Silent and lastly was an unknown woman, in a chair, of the same breed as the two on the left of Magdalena. Between Grease-ball and the last unknown woman was an empty chair.

"Israel," Magdalena greeted me, motioning me forward with a spoonful of sherbet.

Apparently, I had missed the food-eating part of this party.

"Thank you, Magdalena," I replied. I was pulling the chair around so I could sit when a few bad things happened. Grease Ball looked at me then flashed a look to Boy Toy who looked less than happy. Boy Toy was really good with masking his emotions, but Grease Ball was an open book.

"Please, Israel, call me Maggy," Magdalena asked nicely.

"Not happening," spilled forth from my madness. Lead – Zeppelin...or dirigible, or balloon maybe.

"Israel, why are you being mean to me?" Little M tilted her head.

"Status update: your opinion still doesn't matter to me. I'm only here because I'm afraid you will do bad things to my friends," I confessed. Maggy took another dip at her icy dessert then waved off a few of her companions – the women whom I didn't know.

"Here we are again," she stated as the other disappeared. "You being needlessly hostile and me wondering why I put up with it."

"Lady, what fantasy world do you live in?" I grumbled. "The last time I couldn't perform, you beat me half to death." Magdalena snorted and the gigolo smirked slightly.

"By the way, the man next to you is my older brother, Kenneth," she introduced the group. Her news that Grease Ball was her brother sucked big time.

"The man next to me is my companion, Eckly..." she got out.

"Silent, I know," I interrupted. I liked the name 'Silent'. I didn't want to ruin that mental image with a new name. I was starting to think Silent had all her facial muscles frozen.

"Have I said something to amuse you?" she stopped in mid-sherbet interface.

"Absolutely not," I shook my head.

"Hmmm, I don't believe you," Magdalena remarked. "Maybe we should ask your little Asian friend. She works around all kinds of equipment that makes honesty a plus."

'Blow it out your ass' seemed counter-productive, but I was saved any serious decision making by my lips.

"Can I have a gun?" I inquired politely. What the fuck was I going to do with a gun? Magdalena ground up my intentions with her eyes then nodded to Flame. I stood up as she came my way. I certainly wasn't expecting what I got. She pulled out this chrome hand cannon from behind her. That was the big metal thing I had felt earlier.

"This is a 12 mm pistol," she presented the device. 12 mm sounded so big. She did 'something'.

The clip dropped down into her left hand. Next she pulled back on the top of the pistol, ejecting a round. That round went into the top of the clip then she moved close beside me.

"Here you go," she said seductively as she gave me the gun. "The clip holds seven rounds," she slammed the clip in. "That slight click means the magazine is locked in place."

"Damn, this thing is heavy," I muttered.

"Well yeah, I use it to shoot through concrete walls and steel doors," Flame enlightened me. "If you don't know what you are doing it will rip off your thumb and knock you on your ass. In your case, let's hope it merely knocks you down."

"This," she pointed to this 'thing' on the side, "is the safety. Right now," she said lovingly, "the safety is engaged." She flipped it. "Now it is disengaged and you can fire the piece." She reengaged the safety. "Hold it with both hands," she used my hands to demonstrate as she moved behind me. "Use one hand and this bear will break it. Now, hold it like this," she peeked around me.

This entire time we were pointing this monstrosity in the general direction of the Hispanic sisters who were less than pleased. When Flame got behind me, they got up and moved.

"How does it feel?" Flame asked.

"It is still heavy as hell."

"Good," Flame responded. "Look down the barrel. Match up the top and barrel sights. Take careful aim and give the trigger steady pressure. Unloading in the general direction of the enemy is for amateurs. In a fight, dive for cover, figure out where the next corpse is hiding and put this bullet down range. I don't care what they are hiding behind – this will find them."

"Ready to fire?" she teased.

"The safety is still engaged," I replied. She hugged me. Had all the bruises she gave me Saturday night not hurt like all get out, that action might have been construed as a romantic gesture.

"Please, Little M, can't I keep him?" Flame pleaded.

"Let's keep that thought in mind," Magdalena said to Flame. "Well, you have your gun; what do you plan to do with it Israel?"

"I honestly didn't believe anyone would give me one so I am at a loss for words," I mused.

"I did you a favor. Now you do one for me," Maggy prodded.

"Your brother and your boyfriend are having an affair. Your brother is gay. I imagine your boyfriend is merely an opportunist," I blurted out. Dead silence. The brother was rigid. The boyfriend masking his emotions. Finally, Magdalena began chuckling.

Then everyone was laughing. Okay, not everybody, just the women. Then I began laughing, but not at the men. I was laughing because everyone in the room with a gun was laughing at the two who didn't seem to have one and for the first time in my life, I wasn't one of those guys.

"Sis," Kenneth mumbled.

"Cool it, Ken," Magdalena held up her hand. "Mom told me you were gay when I was eight. The only one who still thinks it is a secret is you."

"But," he stammered.

"Ken, did you really think all of your boyfriends found jobs in other cities?" Maggie chastised.

Kenneth clearly was an idiot.

"This guy hadn't known you two minutes and he figured out you were gay. Come on now. Mom and I have been cleaning up your messes for years. Now beat it. I have business to take care of," Magdalena went from sister to mob boss in no seconds flat.

Kenneth took his chastisement like a well whipped dog and slunk away. Eckly was looking in a bad, bad way. The only one not on Little M's payroll was me and I would hardly make a reliable witness in the investigation of his disappearance.

"Maggy, it isn't what it looks like," Eckly began coolly.

"Just stop," Magdalena shook her head. "You clearly think I'm stupid. I mean – damn, you fucked my brother, you fucked me and you fucked me over. You are a fucking prostitute, not a criminal mastermind. I know about you and the OCT." Organized Crime Taskforce.

"They had me in a bind," Eckly began to plead. Maggy pressed her fingers to his lips.

"Israel, what would you have done?" Maggy inquired.

"With your brother or the cops?" I asked for clarification. Flame snorted.

"Both."

"Not only is homosexuality not my thing, the cops blew up the two in my neighborhood which is what I call double deterrence," I replied.

"You stick with the one you're with," I continued. "A man betraying a woman is a loser's game. I guess that means I'd roll the dice with your reaction as opposed to trusting the police. The cops are always the enemy."

"Was that so hard to understand Eckly?" Maggy regarded her now ex-boyfriend.

"It wasn't like that," he persisted.

"Eckly, you are twice the fuck in bed that Israel is, but he is ten times the man. Don't whine to me about how tough it was. Brigit beat him black and blue because he wouldn't utter a single damn phrase. He loved some cop that much," she growled. "That's when I knew you had to go."

"You wouldn't take a year stretch for me, much less a beating from Brigit. You were always a selfish prick and now you are gone," she seethed.

"What! No!" he begged. "Let me make it up to you." I thought he was going to hump her right then and there.

"Shut the fuck up," Magdalena snapped. "I'm not going to kill you. You deserve it, but you aren't worth the hassle. Rosario and Yaris are going to take you home when I'm done, you are going to pack up and leave. I don't recommend showing your face in any establishment I might frequent. Brigit's feelings might be hurt," Magdalena smiled carnivorously.

Silent shuffled out of the booth. Eckly followed reluctantly.

"Israel?" he looked my way, pleading. What was I supposed to do?

"Eckly, you have an inflated sense of your own importance. No one cares what you did because you are a whore," I pointed out.

"Hey, you did what you did to survive. I'm not holding that against you, but don't think you are all that important. You are not. Magdalena isn't going to waste a bullet on you. Flame," I motioned to Brigit to assuage his confusion, "might break a few of your bones to hear them snap, but she'd probably kick ass on a kindergarten playground to hear the kids cry, too."

That was not what Eckly wanted to hear. He didn't want to face the reality he was just another man living on his dick alone. He had gone from a Mobster's boyfriend to a street bimbo in a matter of seconds. The cops wouldn't help. Why should they? He was useless to them now. Sure, he was walking away, but there wasn't a professional escort service that would touch him with a ten foot cattle prod after this.

What woman would want a male prostitute who doubled as a police informant? That profession was still illegal after all. I'd save my worry for Kenny and Luanga. They had reached beyond themselves in an attempt to make a difference. Rosario and Yaris turned out to be the Hispanic sisters. They led Eckly out the back door then returned.

"Playground," Flame snickered. "That would be so cool." Yep, she was psychotic. A fraction of my mental and physical discomfort was this lump of metal in my hand. I took the barrel in my right hand, pivoted my body and offered the grip to Flame.

"Thank you," I told her.

"You owe me," she leered.

"For the beating or the gun?" I grinned weakly.

"Whichever leaves me fuck-stunned, staring at the ceiling for thirty minutes," she chuckled. Ah, the gift from Kuiko kept on giving.

I finished turning around, cupped Flame's jaw with both hands and stared deeply into her eyes. She was totally devoid of any understanding of the human condition. I doubted if she even cared about herself.

"Okay," brushed her lips, "you've earned it."

"Israel, you are supposed to be interested in me," Magdalena interrupted my moment with Flame.

"Flame is pure," I responded without looking away from her eyes. That brought out a new round of laughter, even from Flame.

"I said pure, not pure good," I reminded them. "You brought us together. I have more than a few screws loose, so it can't be too surprising that I picked the totally wrong woman." Flame wasn't offended.

"Damn," Maggy mused. "Brigit, are you going to let me have a crack at your boy?"

"He's not my boy, Little M," Flame said. "I'll put a good word in for ya though." We were both unhinged. The proof was me being here and Brigit for defying her boss.

"That is something to work on," Magdalena allowed. "While this is fun, it is not why I wanted to talk with you. That reason has become irrelevant over the past 24 hours, but now I want to know 'what's the deal with your blood?"

"Why do you want to know?" I asked. I wasn't offended; only curious.

"A cure for the Plague is money in the bank," she grinned. I groaned and looked at the floor.

"Magdalena," I looked up at her, "this is not something you want to do." She didn't believe me, or even feel she needed my advice.

"They came at me with a Writ of Exclusion yesterday," I continued. "They aren't going to wire-tap you, Magdalena, they are going to torture and kill you. Worse, I am Carabolix-37's only success. Every other male is nutless, or dead and no one sane knows why. Dr. Delilah Fremont has the only doses of the drug and the research notes, but she's not sharing."

"Rare is good," Maggy enlightened me.

"Rare is dead," I corrected. "Magdalena, I'm not spinning falsehoods to the World. Society is about to implode and what I have can't save it."

It hit me like a bullet to the brain. How could I have missed it?

If the Vanishers were to win, they couldn't have society running around either. They would get the men out while the situation was still stable and hide them, but then what? You couldn't keep us in a bunker forever. I was a club-footed, one-eyed hunchback playing with people who had been studying, competing in, and winning, the survival game for 100,000 years.

Who in the hell did I think I was? Did I really delude myself that I had control – that I could slip away...all I could do was take a step. If they didn't stop me, I'd take another. That was the plan.