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+---- Thread: *Finding Leilani: A Free Agency Saga, Part II (/showthread.php?tid=47533)
*Finding Leilani: A Free Agency Saga, Part II - 37thchamber - 09-18-2023
Links to Previous: Part I
Part II
Xander was never comfortable around Dre – Andre Ronovan, that is; he was a well-known “fixer” on the East Coast but had connections in most states. Remi had used those connections before – the man gave off a vaguely threatening vibe, no matter what he said. Probably at least partly the accent. There is something inherently sinister about Russian accents, isn’t there? Try it yourself. Read the following sentence in a Russian accent: ‘Cotton candy clouds and fluffy kittens are my favourite things’.
Spooky.
Anyway, in case that didn’t make it clear, Dre was actually Russian. Specifically a Russian defector. Something to do with the dismantling of the Third Wagner Group in the 2040s, after Igor Volodin crushed a coup attempt originating in Uzbekistan; apparently Dre – then known as Andrey Roanov; something Xander only knew thanks to Remi calling in a favour from an MI5 agent he went to school with – had been a high-ranking officer in the Third Wagner Group, and defected to the US to avoid repercussions from the Kremlin after his comrades were defeated and ruthlessly hunted. Rumours said he was also Bratva, though it was always unclear how much those particular connections would hold up after his defection. Would explain some of his connections, though. What Xander did know for sure was that Dre was well-connected in the criminal underworld, and, put lightly, a bad guy. For someone with as many enemies as he had – powerful ones at that – he always came across as unnervingly calm. Perhaps that, and the knowledge of his background, were the larger part of Xander’s unease around the man.
Today, Remi was casually discussing things with him in a penthouse hotel suite. As you do.
“...but Dre, enough about me, how is your son doing? He plays soccer, no?” Remi said.
“Yes, he tells me he wants to be like the little wizard,” said Dre.
“Lionel Messi?”
“No, Andrey Arshavin, of course! My son is Russian.”
Remi laughed. “How does he even know about a player from fifty years ago? How do you?”
“I could ask you same question, my friend,” Dre chuckled. “But I also know you are English. Your country has obsession with soc- No. Football. This one is correct name.”
Remi flashed the briefest of smiles. Xander wondered if Dre realised that the privileged man sat opposite him probably actually called it soccer his entire life.
“My mother’s family were all big fans of the sport,” Remi said with a hint of sadness. “My uncle Robert was always the black sheep of the family, because he supported Arsenal. Not Fulham.”
“Ah, and this is how you know of little wizard,” Dre tapped his temple knowingly. “But enough about this. We have business.”
“Yes.” Said Remi. Xander could have sworn he felt the atmosphere shift with that one word. It didn’t matter how many times he sat in on these kinds of meetings with these kinds of people, it always struck him just how dangerous everyone involved was – himself excluded, he supposed. Though that did include his friend, too.
“You are looking for Leilani, I am told.” That wasn’t a question. Something Xander actually liked about Dre was his no nonsense approach to ... well, everything. “I can put you in contact with someone.”
“That’s why I’m here,” said Remi. “Your man Piotr managed to find Leilani in Colorado, so I made the assumption you would definitely be able to do the same here.”
Dre made a facial expression that Xander interpreted as “fair enough” and nodded.
“Of course, you will be compensated.”
“Of course,” Dre echoed. “You are not a fool. You know what I am capable of.”
Xander tensed. There was the briefest flash of rage across Remi’s face. He was certain Dre had not noticed, but he had. The last time he saw it, things had gone very badly, very quickly. Xander would not forget that day any time soon. The blood... The screams...
“...to Xander here.”
Once again, Xander snapped out of his ... daydream would be the wrong word, but something like that. He felt Dre’s eyes on him before he looked in that direction. A cold feeling. The bald-headed Russian was a big guy – Xander estimated a little over six feet tall, and about two-hundred and fifty pounds; so not quite as big as Remi, but still big – and clearly shared a similarly combative, athletic background. He had cauliflower ears, a squashed nose, and a sort of roughness to his face that went beyond the mild stubble you’d expect from a man his age. It was all very intimidating. His eyes, though... they were the scariest part. Dark pools, almost like tar, and an intensity behind them that was more than a little terrifying.
“You are sure he can handle this.” Dre said. Again, this was not a question. Not really. Despite the rising intonation.
“Xander is far more capable than he looks,” Remi said, almost dismissively. It struck Xander that his friend probably genuinely thought that was a compliment.
“As you wish.” Dre inclined his head in Xander’s direction and gestured with his left hand. Out of nowhere, or so it seemed to Xander anyway, four men in dark suits appeared. Two carrying a reasonably large chest; maybe fifty litres?
“Bring your car to the service elevator in Sector 2B downstairs. Boris and Yuri will load the chest into your car. Artem and Denis will make sure there is no interference. But once you leave this building, any problem relating to this, becomes yours,” Dre said, ostensibly to Remi. Then he turned to Xander. “If it is traced back to me, you will not like the consequences.”
Xander believed him.
* * * * *
On the way to Delacour’s Baltimore office – the main one, since he still lived nearby – Xander had a thought. “Remi, have you noticed we’ve not had contact from Cape Town?”
“What?” Remi’s head jerked toward him in an instant.
“The ISFL team. The Crash.” Xander clarified, realising his error.
“Oh.” Remi visibly relaxed. “Right. Maybe they’ve heard about..." He trailed off, making a vague hand gesture that Xander interpreted as ‘all of this’.
“Yeah.” Xander nodded.
“Besides, a return to Cape Town may not be the wisest of moves right now.”
“Because of the Rainmen?”
“No of course not, Xander. If anything, returning to Cape Town would make it easier to handle the bloody Rainmen.” Remi had a remarkable gift for telling you something you couldn’t have possibly known, but making you feel like a complete idiot for not knowing it, Xander mused. “I meant after our deal with the turtle fellow.”
It took Xander an embarrassingly long moment to realise Remi was talking about Raphael Delacour. “Has he come back to you already?”
“Yes. He does indeed have connections.”
“Well,” Xander said. “That’s unexpected.”
“Hollywood is a cesspit, Xander. You of all people should know better than to be fooled by the glitz and glamour.”
“No no, not that bit Remi. I’m surprised our friend is involved in any of that himself.”
“He isn’t. He just knows who is.”
“Ah, that makes more sense.”
They arrived at the Wu Tang Sports Management head office, which was situated on the perimeter of the sprawling Flying Thunder Studios complex, itself located outside Baltimore city limits. Not far from the Greenspring campus of Stevenson University. Apparently, when deciding to set up a new studio complex a couple decades ago – when Delacour merged his interests in 187 Pictures with Tobias Akinbobo’s Marvelous Agusi Films – they bought a farm nearby and converted it. Xander had the passing thought that it was a surprisingly nice location for something as busy and, at times, industrial, as a film studio.
“So how do you suppose he’ll take the news?” Xander asked.
“He’s a professional. He’ll be fine.” Remi said.
* * * * *
Five Days Earlier
“...and so, we think you’d benefit from our services.” Said the representative from Armchair Agents. Xander didn’t recognise her at all, but he did know that Remi knew Melvin Murder-Moose – who was financing a significant portion of the whole thing, apparently.
“Yes, yes, I’d already heard about this new agency,” Remi said.
“Oh! Who mentioned it?”
“Not important. Anyway, I had already decided to change agents this offseason. I will need to meet with my current agent and explain my decision, of course. Tell your bosses to wait a few days. Maybe a week. I will meet with them then. I must travel to Baltimore first.”
Xander watched the representative, she seemed confused.
“Alright. I er... I guess I’m not needed here after all.” She laughed nervously.
“Ah, one more thing, Penny,” Remi said. Xander noted that the woman’s name was in fact Penelope, and she had at no point said to call her ‘Penny’. She didn’t react, though. “Let your bosses know I have high expectations. I do not suffer fools gladly.”
Xander chuckled a little at this, behind his hand. Remi was toying with her. Some might consider this misogyny, but that would be incorrect. He would have done this with any representative, of any gender. Being raised among the nobility had afforded Remi a sense of entitlement, you see. While he was not, technically, a royal, he was still somehow above the rest of us. That was the reason Xander allied himself with the man, after all.
“Xander, this new agency,” said Remi. “Do you suppose they would allow a rep to liaise with Dre?”
“I’ll find out.” Xander said, knowing full well that if they would not, he would have to do it.
Remi pulled out a phone, and dialled someone. “Tony, book flights to Baltimore for two people.” He said. After a brief pause, in which his assistant must have replied, Remi added “...make it Tuesday. I despise flying at the weekend. Too much riff-raff.”
Another pause. “Very good.” He hung up.
“Longer than I would have liked, but needs must.” Remi said, to nobody in particular.
“Remi?” Xander asked. “Don’t you always fly first class anyway?”
“Of course.”
“Then you wouldn’t have to deal with the riff-raff anyway..." Xander trailed off, confused.
“True enough. But flaunting one’s wealth and status in the face of the little people is uncouth. The fewer of them around, the better. You should know this, Xander. You’re a Person of Coin yourself, are you not?”
“Didn’t think of it that way, to be honest, Remi.”
“Well start.” He replied, matter-of-factly. “You and I are not built as these lesser mortals, you know. We should behave accordingly.”