Chapter 20 - the Facilitator

   Before we set off, Francois showed us around his "little tadpole", as he called it. The giant cruise ships? Are huge. Panic and Francois reminded me. These aren't the biggest ones in the world. Much bigger ones exist. Close enough to see the built up beachfront skyscrapers of the Miami shoreline, our cruise liner was I thought perilously close to another that looked quite similar. Both ships honked those gigantic horns they have. I thought it was a safety issue, but Francois explained.

   "That? Is, the... sister, ship. To our Green Frog we ride on. That? Is... in English, of course. The Spoiled Princess."

   He smiled politely.

   "I would assume, you realize. That, the Green Frog? Is a little joke, that it is my personal boat, my son has graciously allowed me to use. Me and my investors? We invest, in him having more boats. And so, he is polite back."

   "And the Spoiled Princess?"

   "Mm. Another little joke. That, is my wife's boat. It is name, for her. If, she was not with me? She might be on that boat, instead of these one. I think, she prefers it. That boat? Has no investor, having business meetings, on it. It is, all pleasure for her. Business? Bores her. And I would rather have a spoiled wife, than a business partner. I have business all the time. I do not need more of it."

   "You, let her travel alone? With... things as they are."

   He smiled.

   "Mademoiselle. I? Am, the big risk, to my wife's safety. I, am diable, The Devil. My wife? Eh. They see her, as but the spoiled trinket to me. Her face, is not known outside of France. Unless it is next to mine. I am happier, in a way, when she is on her boat, and I am on mine. But. Though she is a little bit spoiled? She wants to be with me. She is, a good woman."

   These boats are big enough, that pulling up to one? Is no different than putting in and docking to land.

   "But, you two, are in the hurry. Yes?"

   Panic nodded.

   "It is fine. My other son, is on that boat. The Spoiled Princess. I will spend a little time, with him. But these men? Will hurry you to be on your way. Monsieur Panic? Has waited long enough. To find what he seeks."

   He bid us farewell, at the sister cruise liner's water level dock. Well, actually he bid us adieu. We tagged up with Little Robbie and Sky, then were off.

   Francois had us be sure to take our ID and passports. No telling, where we would end up once Yuri's assistant took us. Francois explained before leaving? That he had booked us a flight to New York. We asked when departure time was. He cocked his head.

   "Whenever you get there, but of course."

   He gave us a few papers, and said it would see us off once at the airport. We didn't dilly dally and took an expensive cab ride to the airport. We headed straight for the security checkpoint. Anyone who has ever flown on an airliner even once since 911, knows the drill. You're lucky if you don't get the rubber glove of some asshole who can't even speak much English up your ass. Meanwhile? Men wearing bed sheets and turbans with long beards, sail right through the same security point. After all, its racist to check them.

   Naturally, we got pulled over for the one out of whatever random checks. Panic had a few dry words for one of the guys putting his hands all over me. This, got him a more thorough check. When I guess the manager of this little crack security team was going through all of Panic's pocket contents? The manager spotted some papers. He glanced at them, and his face went all but white.

   "Stop. You two? Come with me. Get them all their things. Now."

   Panic is in his dry humor mode now.

   "Great. What's the new problem. I've already had an x-ray. I need a CAT scan, or an MRI now."

   The guy that clearly grew up speaking English, overseeing this little fiasco? Took us aside as soon as he was out of earshot.

   "I didn't know. You should have said something, sir. Please. Accept my apologies. The only problem? Is I don't wanna end up cleaning toilets. I mean, if you could see your way clear, to have a sense of humor about this? I'm sorry."

   He pointed towards a nondescript large steel door, almost behind the ticket counter for departures. When the girl looked up at us, smiling but forced? She looked behind us. The head of the little security detail was motioning to her. She nodded and came running over.

   We got ushered through that door? And, it was a whole different airport. Men in expensive suits, and surprise surprise. More pretty women of leisure with them. The large waiting room, was all but soundproof. Gone was the blaring speaker calls and advertisements over the PA system out in the main terminal. One woman had a glass of what looked like champagne.

   Outside? Signs everywhere. If you appear to be intoxicated, you will be refused your flight. But in here? No such signs. Courtesy bar. All comped. I don't know. I guess this is how the other half waits for their flight. Coach sucks, and the middle ground isn't but a little bit better. Wow. I whispered to Panic. I think? We're going first class.

   It was obvious, seeing our flight paperwork confirming our reservations? Had canceled anything but the best treatment. We were sitting there, chuckling in the soft classical background music about it all. When Panic cocked his head at me. I idly began quizzing him, sweetly.

   "Honey?"

   "Yeah."

   "Didn't he say, the flight leaves whenever we get here?"

   "He did, but. I figured it was just a phrase. I don't think they wait for even first class passengers."

   "Well? Be a dear, and see when departure time is, for our flight."

   "Smart ass."

   He went up and spoke in quiet tones to the pretty woman behind a little counter. I didn't hear, but I saw her cock her head, at him. Then smile and explain something.

   He came back and sat down.

   "Well?"

   "Well what. You want to stop and get a bite to eat, a drink first?"

   "Oh. We have time to kill, before departure."

   "You could say that."

   "Well? What else could I say."

   "He booked us a private flight."

   "Oh. Neat. Like, I guess a... shuttle run. For businessmen, flying from New York to Miami. Makes sense they have something like that, really. So?"

   "So, what."

   "How many suits are we waiting on? When do we leave."

   He leaned in.

   "None. We leave? When we feel like it. Its a private flight. Its a private plane."

   "Oh."

   "Yeah. So... you want to grab a bite to eat? Or, just go. Apparently, when you fly a private jet? This is just where you wait, while they fuel up and get ready. Or, you wait here for a private flight coming in."

   "I'm not hungry, but..."

   "But, what."

   "Panic. This, Yuri guy? Is one of those... billionaire investors, in the investment group."

   "Maybe he's the cheapskate, and only has a couple hundred million. Who knows."

   "Funny. But, we're meeting his personal assistant. Being kept on ice? Until the boss, gets out of... sounds like club fed for a year or two. He's not in jail, he's working on his tennis game for a year and a half."

   "What's your point."

   "Honey. We're meeting someone important. Wouldn't it be polite, to take him some small gift?"

   "Oh. I guess. Like we know the guy. Do we get him, what. One of those T-shirts that says... some asshole went to Miami, and all I got was this lousy T-Shirt. I'm sure he'll treasure it, all of his days."

   "Yuri. Russian, right?"

   "Ukrainian. Same thing."

   "His close assistant? Probably Russian, too. Get him a bottle of top shelf vodka."

   "Good idea. This is a big airport. Let me see if I can get directions. I don't wanna get lost."

   "Good idea."

   He came back and sat down.

   "She doesn't know? Or, we're not allowed to take booze in the air."

   "No, that's fine."

   "Then what is it."

   "She called us a taxi."

   Sure enough, a few minutes later, a young lady in a nice pantsuit came in and hustled up to the counter. She pointed at us, and we were taken in a golf cart to the gift shop. She helped us shop, and carried our purchase back for us. Like we even know what billionaires drink for vodka. Panic just asked what the most expensive vodka they had was.

   As it turns out? You can spend quite a bit on the good stuff.

   We told the girl at our counter, we thought we were ready to fly. She took us to another door, and told us what colored line to follow and what number to look for. We asked about our passports being checked? She just flailed her hand at us.

   "Its domestic. Its not like you're coming in, from out of the country. No need."

   "You don't need our ID?"

   "If I try to ask for ID, from people flying on their own planes? I won't have a job. Enjoy your flight, sir. Ma'am? Nice meeting you."

   A pilot and a copilot were waiting on us. Holding one of those signs, so you don't miss them. "Mr + Mrs Testavino", that's us. Well, its not us, but its us. You know what I mean. The copilot helped us with our little bit of luggage, and we were waiting to taxi in no time. It took longer to get flight clearance, than anything.

   The copilot, once the flight was going and we were at altitude? Came back and showed us where everything was. A real bathroom, not one of those glorified gym lockers you have to squeeze into on a regular flight. The pilots were all happy. Apparently, sitting around waiting to fly is boring. They're pilots, they like being in the air.

   If its a long flight? There's food, drinks, soft drinks, you name it. There's a little privacy cubicle, if want to take a nap on a longer flight. Or? Join the mile high club, if we wanted to say we did that. We declined, but... there was a do not disturb latch you can set from inside the little sleeping chamber.

   Unlike a regular flight, where you're discouraged from getting up out of your seat without permission, as if back in grade school again? This is a private plane. The copilot and pilot take turns coming back to sit and talk. Did we want to sit in the cockpit? They let Panic "take the wheel" for a couple minutes. If time wasn't a major issue, he could bank around once, then go up and down a little.

   Reminded me of "daddy" letting a toddler sit in his lap, and drive around an empty parking lot. He explained it couldn't be safer. Nothing to hit up here, no planes within miles of us where we were.

   "Its landing and take off, that's the hard part. Especially landing. Taking off, as long as you gun it and go, kinda hard to screw that up. Landing? Eh. Crosswinds and making a crab landing, can get hairy. But don't worry. This is a sport jet. We have a high stall speed."

   The pilot and copilot explained how happy they were. Normally, they never use top thrust. Wastes fuel. Told time was an issue? They were happy to get to put the jet through its paces, and see what top speed was.

   "Its actually a maintenance issue. If we can hit the normal top speed? The mechanics can concentrate on routine maintenance, instead of looking for things that aren't wrong. You're actually safer in this plane, than a regular jumbo. Higher thrust to weight ratio, higher ceiling of operation. We can fly over bad stuff, and we can go around anything that looks like bad turbulence or hairy weather. Regular flights? Are on a schedule and have to plow through."

   Panic made a joke. About flying from New York to Miami, just to take your business client to lunch at this cute little Cuban restaurant you're just sure he'll like. Back in time for dinner in New York. The pilot didn't really get the joke.

   "Well? Yeah. Kinda the whole point of having your own sport jet, right?"

   "I guess you're right."

   "You've never been in a private plane before?"

   "Well, technically. Yeah. A couple times."

   "What kind?"

   "Military cargo planes. The kind you jump out the back."

   "Oh. Gotcha. Yeah, we got chutes, but... not the kind you're used to. You're probably used to jumping with heavy gear, and popping a neck-breaker a couple feet off the tree line, huh?"

   "Yeah. HALO jumps, glide suit. All the fun stuff."

   The pilot smiled, shook his hand and clapped his shoulder.

   "Same here. When I was younger. Sucks to get old, don't it?"

   "Tell me about it."

   "Happens to all of us, buddy."

   "How did you go, from... jumping out of perfectly good airplanes, to... flying the suits around."

   "A little luck, a lot of saving and work. Like anyone that has a decent gig, I guess. Dumb enough to enlist at 17, put my 20 in. About, 10 or 11 years Airborne? Shattered my leg. Had to ride a faggot's desk to finish my 20 out. Thank fucking god, they let me work supply for my Airborne hangar, you know? I'd have shoved some ROTC's head up his butter bar ass, putting up with that shit. Had a wife and a kid by the time the fag desk had my ass roots growing into my office chair, at the hangar."

   "So, how did you end up doing this?"

   "I banked all my money, all 20 years. Plus my 20 half pension helped. Pilot's license. Got one of those little planes with the water landing pontoons, to take guys fly fishing in remote spots, up in northern Canada. If you can afford the plane, its just another class, to upgrade to commercial. Once I switched to the rich suits, doing that? Paid good enough, I was able to start thinking about this. The copilot? Pretty much the same story as me. Except he flew cargo instead of jumping out. I tease him, he's the taxi driver, I was the passenger. We put our stacks together? Here we are. We used to fly suits back and forth, across the pond. Its how we met Mr. Verte."

   "I guess you impressed him with your, safe flying and all."

   The pilot busted out laughing.

   "Yeah. Just like that. Except, the complete opposite."

   "Huh?"

   "Its a private plane. You got the cash, you get my fuel tab? I don't care where the hell you're going. We were flying over some pretty jungle, and... next thing you know? Christ. I thought I was back in Airborne. Suits are shitting their panties. We started taking small arms fire. I mean, nothing heavy, you understand. Some AK spray and pray, I guess. We were skimming low, letting them enjoy the scenery. Next thing I know? Cabin pressure's dropped, I'm jogging around funny. Flames on engine 4, no big thing. Couple little holes in the skin, but no one got hit or anything. We were fine. Oh, yeah. The wings are the fuel tanks. We're pissing diesel fuel over the canopy. I got another wing tank though, we're all good."

   Guys talking about this, like he ran out of gas going around the DC beltway.

   "I mean, its not that big a deal. What. Cut the fuel to engine four. Purge the lines. Stall start the other three, after you're clear on that. I dumped the holy tank. Which, at higher altitude would have been a lot easier of a procedure, but. We were over the hump, so, I could skim down the other side of the mountain. Got one two three stall started and cleared. Now all I got to manage, is to get some altitude back, get out of the pea shooter range. I mean, you have to do all that in simulators to get your commercial jet endorsement."

   "I guess you impressed the suits."

   "I guess. Yeah. Well, if you know anything about insurance?"

   "I sign a check once a year, so I don't get maced and arrested when I get pulled over. If that makes me an insurance expert, then yeah."

   "No, you got the idea. You ever read that book they give you with your policy?"

   "No."

   "Its a fun read. By the time you get done reading that book? You'll be asking. When, exactly? Am I fucking actually covered on insurance. We don't cover out of the country. We don't cover military or acts of war. We don't cover terrorism. We don't cover riots. Did you know, that a riot? Is defined as... now get this. Three or more people, engaging in any kind of altercation. I mean, three guys fist fighting outside a bar, damage your car while you're parked? You're on your own. Legally? That's a riot."

   Panic's chuckling.

   "So, taking flak, not covered."

   "No way. I need an engine. Installed. Skin holes fixed. New wing tank and wing. Everything, needs re-certified. The suits? Asked me. Would, you rather just get a new plane? Fly exclusively for us."

   "Good deal, to get the plane fixed."

   "Hell yeah. Now, I get to fly low and maybe take some fire, like the good old days. And they'll just buy me all the spare parts I need? Fucking A, where you boys been my whole career, you know. Right now, is a little boring. Not as many rides. But? Next year or two, the suits will be hopping again, they said. Africa and the Ukraine, I think. I mean, I get a nice salary, and everything's on them, but... its a little boring, showing up for work, and hardly flying. Plus? I make extra when I'm flying, go figure. But hey. Beats working at a grocery store, you know."

   "Wife and kid happy?"

   "Yeah. There's that. Nice little family. A couple years? My boy will be off to college or whatever he thinks he wants to get into. The wife? They let me bring her, if its just city hops like this. She likes it, nice perk for the little lady. Honestly? I really can't complain. I mean, most of the really big suits that take private flights? Why lie, pretty much most of them are assholes. These guys? Really never met big suits that were this nice to me. Most of them, you're just a glorified taxi cab driver to them. Great guys. They take us with them, if we're waiting for a return flight on them. Best hotels, nice dinners. Gifts whether its a holiday or not. I love these guys."

   "So. You like flying the devil around, huh? He's a nice guy."

   "Huh?"

   "Nothing. Its just a phrase."

   "Oh. What's it mean."

   "You took small arms fire. Old military joke. You're flying around with the devil for a copilot."

   "Oh. Never heard that one. That's cute. Have to remember that one. Hey. Might make a nice, you know. Company logo. We fly to hell and back."

   "Feel free to use it, and I don't need a copyright on it."

   "All right. Hey. Hate to do it, you're fun. But? Get my copilot up here. Were about a half hour out of New York. I'll put the seat belt signs on, about ten minutes before we start the big circle. I gotta start bullshitting with whatever asshole's working the terminal today. Hope the asshole speaks better English, than the last time I flew to New York."

   "You're kidding."

   "Hell no. How god damn safe is it, when you're getting instructions? From some asshole that you can't understand them. I mean, like I give three shits who gets the good job, but... if understanding what's being said is important? This is one time its more than an inconvenience."

   "Are all big airports like that?"

   "Nope. Just New York. Whole city's turning into a shit-hole, slowly. I mean if Miami International, and LAX, can both get people that speak English on the radio? The hell's New York's problem, you know."

   "All right. Good luck, and if you need it? Yo hablo, un poco de Espanol."

   They both laughed, as he came back and sat down. Wow. Another? Ringing endorsement, for Francois and his investors. Nice guys, they take care of people. Hell. This guy? Isn't even aware of the fact that the guy he flies around for? Is known as The Devil, and is supposed to be the world's biggest asshole. Well, according to the French government. According to this guy? Yet again. A swell guy.

   "All right, guys. Seat belts are mandatory. This doesn't reflect on me. We have intermittent strong crosswinds, and they switch. Which means I'm watching the wind socks like a stock quote. Crab landing, which is a little bit sideways, to account for it. But I gotta get down before a switch comes. So, we're coming in hot. You'll feel some bouncing. Don't worry, I got this."

   There was a few moments of heavy bouncing and settling, before the screeching and deceleration. The pilot announced landing.

   "Tango Charlie, on the ground. Another good one, in the bag."

   Flying private? Really a whole another world. The pilots had a talk with a guy in a one piece zip up coverall, about fuel.

   "Hey. You guys have any kind of a timetable?"

   We glanced at each other.

   "Not sure, being honest."

   "You think you'll have to leave in any kind of emergency?"

   "I doubt that."

   "Mind if we hit the pilot's lounge? I'm happy with the wife and kids, but my partner here's divorced. He wouldn't mind chatting up a few stewardesses. Pilots, are like doctors... to the flying cock, tail, waitresses?"

   We chuckled.

   "Fuck 'em on the plane."

   "Hey. We don't call it the cock pit, for nothing."

   "You guys need anything? Buy you lunch."

   "We're good. We have an expense account. Might as well use it, to impress the girls."

   Panic looked at me and back.

   "Fly safe."

   The copilot joked back.

   "I got parachutes. I'll be fine."

   Wasn't a far walk to the gate, and the plane mechanic that was discussing refueling and everything, took us out on a golf cart. Panic tossed him a twenty, and we called for another expensive cab ride. Some dark skinned skinny guy showed up. He was happy to be at your service, and his thick accent was understandable.

   "Please to be understanding. I must have an address. For how else in hell, am I to know where my destination is."

   "Buddy. Here."

   "What is phone for."

   "See this dot? That, is you. Now. See this other dot? That, is destination. Make those dots get close, and we'll tuck and roll."

   "This may be an expensive ride. I am looking, at Brooklyn."

   "If I let you hold a hundred dollar bill, will you just start driving?"

   He held out the bill. He lifted it, when he grabbed for it gently.

   "What?"

   "If you start the car? You get the money."

   Recognition crossed his face. The car started immediately. He got his hundred dollar down payment. He asked if we minded if he played the radio. Sure thing, buddy. I wasn't aware they had a radio station in New York that sounds like sleigh bells tinkling, and strings on wooden boxes being plucked at random? But they do, and they call this progress.

   We chased the dot around some when we got close. When the dot stayed in this one block, we got out and handled the tab.

   We looked around. Panic looked around in a more exaggerated fashion. He's being sarcastic to me, without saying a word.

   "Honey? Is it me, or what."

   "I'm assuming, you mean its, well, kind of a shit-hole."

   "Yeah. I mean, this is coming from a guy that prefers to live in a shotgun shack with an actual dirt floor, but... I'm not the one that's supposed to be the top assistant to a multi-millionaire."

   "No, I'm with you here. Something? Is off."

   We looked around. Those seedy check cashing hole in the wall businesses. A disreputable looking pawn shop. What looked like a couple of addicts and hookers with skin diseases hanging out in a doorway recess. We started marching around slowly, trying to put the dots to touching. This happened more or less at some dirty little mom and pop pizza shop.

   So? We went in. We looked around. Unless renovated, all the shops on this block were thin but long, and this place was no exception. Some short and fat barrel chested guy with hairy arms and patented Brooklyn blue collar accent asked what we wanted. Panic greeted him.

   "Hi. I'm looking for someone."

   "Ain't we all. You got a name?"

   "Actually? No."

   "So, on that note? I could about give you anybody. Maybe you could narrow that down some."

   "Actually, I'm looking for... might sound weird? A man, who used to be Yuri's assistant."

   "You a cop?"

   "No."

   "You here to start trouble?"

   "No."

   "Well, what are you here for."

   "I already told you. A man, who used to be Yuri's assistant."

   "Well, what's it about."

   Panic smiled.

   "Not trying to be rude. But, its confidential."

   "Oh. Well then, maybe who's here and who's not here, might be confidential too."

   Panic sighed.

   "You know something. And, the only reason I'm being polite to you? Is... I don't wanna piss off the guy I'm here to meet."

   The guy started running his yap, when another guy came around the corner from the back of the shop through the open doorway.

   "And what is all the commotion."

   Thick Russian sounding accent. Pay dirt? The new guy held up his cell phone, looking at Panic and the cell phone. Then he smiled.

   "Ah. You. Were sent to me. Yes?"

   "Yes. I'm Panic. You must b---"

   "I? Am Vladimir. Vladimir, Radiscononovich. I am very pleased, to meet you. We will talk."

   The guy at the counter started giving him guff. Vladimir walked over to him, and glared down at him. He held his hand up, palm out towards us.

   "Please. This, will take only moment."

   Now he turned his attention back to glaring down at the guy cutting a fit over nothing.

   "This? Is business meeting. You will not interrupt, business meeting. These people? Have a business matter, with Yuri. Yuri, is temporary unavailable. I? Will be handling Yuri's business matter. For him. Is this clear?"

   The guy started going around Hazel-baker's barn, and Vladimir stopped him.

   "I ask you, if this is clear? Or, if this is not clear. If this is clear? This, is good. If this is not clear? I will make it much more clear to you. And, this will not be so good for you. You? Will choose."

   The guy squeezed past him, trying to keep his body and every last inch of it as far away as possible from Vladimir. Vladimir was a big guy. Maybe, what. Six one, six two? Hard to say. But he was thick all over. He reminded me of one of my friends when I was young, who had an uncle. They had eastern European blood. Hunky, my dad used to call it. Not quite Russian, but not European. One of those countries. He reminded you of one of those old time photos of the circus strongman. He didn't look like he touched a weight in his life, just naturally thick with that slight gut. All he was missing, was the bald head and the handlebar mustache. He had short, neatly cropped hair. Clean shaven. Almost military, but not quite.

   When we first heard him come around from the back? He seemed to have a pleasant lilt to his voice and manner. In an instant, though. He was all business. I have to guess not knowing anyone here? I think its probable they're not used to seeing him be so serious. He looked around at everyone else, and they looked like they all discovered little things they needed to do. He strode over, and held his hand out. We both shook hands with him.

   "Please excuse this. I prefer to do business, the polite way. We will talk."

   He held his hand out, to outside the way we had come in. We all three went out. Panic started.

   "It seems I have located Yuri's assistant."

   "Actually? I am, The Facilitator."

   "Facilitator?"

   "Yes. Yuri would handle, the business matters. I facilitate these things. I, make things go... smooth."

   "I see."

   "Now then. I was ask? To perform a service for you. I am very pleased, to do this. I have already been in contact. With, some of Yuri's associates. I do not know for certain, but I was told. Is very probable. You came on plane?"

   We looked at each other. Panic liked how this was going, I could tell.

   "Yes."

   "Plane. It is, waiting?"

   "Yes."

   "Then we will go. If this, is good with you."

   "That's... wonderful."

   "One moment. I will be back? In very short time."

   Vladimir was back in a couple minutes. He looked like he'd wet his hair and combed it. He had also put on a very nice suit. He had two large gear bags with him. He stopped on our side of the counter.

   "I will not be back. I was told, I was to be taken care of. While Yuri? Was away."

   He looked around at the dingy shop.

   "This? Is not being taken care of. This? Is shit hole. Before I go. You can tell owner, of shit hole. I know, he think Yuri will be away for a very long time. I will ask you to tell him? Yuri's lawyers, have... renegotiated his sentence. Yuri, will be available. Much sooner, than anyone anticipated. I will be asking Yuri, when I soon see him. If, this? Is what he intended for me. If this, is not what Yuri intended for me? Owner of shit hole, will have to explain this to Yuri."

   Everyone just looked at him bug eyed, and didn't say a word. In fact, you could have heard a pin drop.

   "Please, to deliver my message."

   He looked around.

   "I have nothing against, any of other employees. But owner of shit hole? Please to tell him. He has, about eighteen months. To come up with explanation. I will now go."

   He walked out with his two large gear bags, and we waved and fell in behind him.

   "Will we walk? Or did you rent car."

   Panic looked at me.

   "Taxi okay with you?"

   "Whatever you wish. I am facilitator. You? Make decision."

   Panic got out the card of the taxi driver that had dropped us off. It hadn't been very long, and he pulled up in about ten minutes. Vladimir simply sat still. He reminded me of, what. Panic, in a way. In some way I couldn't put my finger on just yet.

   Vladimir was the strong silent type, it seemed. Quite quiet. Exceedingly polite. Having all the psychology degrees in the world doesn't help me with someone I don't know. Well, at least not very much. I'm guessing, but my guess is that he's controlling his emotions and their display. Like a cop or a military man.

   Once we were in the plane, I asked him where we were going. Actually, the pilots asked me and Panic where we were going. This, wasn't something we knew.

   "Vladimir?"

   "Yes."

   "The, pilots? Are asking us for a destination."

   "I am thinking. Please, give me moment."

   "Sure."

   Wow. I'm pretty sure, I'm watching cogs turn. Gears move. Without knowing him more, I couldn't say if he was less intelligent, and this required him to think more and very carefully? Or, if he's more intelligent, and racing possibilities. He could be wavering, deciding some point. Without knowing him more? Impossible to do anything but hunch and guess. I can observe he doesn't seem nervous or anxious.

   "I should check, and make sure. I am not very used to handling Yuri's business matters for him."

   "Are you unsure of something?"

   "Perhaps. I have information, of where to go. For what you seek."

   "Sounds good."

   "This is. Yuri is a very careful man. I should be at least as careful, as he would be. I will only be a moment. I apologize, for inconvenience."

   He made a call, then another one came back. He was speaking in I assume Russian. When he hung up? I asked how things were going.

   "I am being careful. The, information you seek? We will not be going to the local church for this. I called, so I could check. On... opinion. About, how they calculated we would be treated."

   "And?"

   "The opinion? Is things will be fine. I have destination."

   "Can you tell the pilots?"

   "Yes. Am thinking."

   "Fine."

   "A moment."

   He talked to the pilots now.

   "We will be going to Brazil. The, northern border. Question. Do you have to file, flight plan?"

   The pilots conferred.

   "No. Its perfectly legal, to simply go for a ride."

   "I would prefer that. One can not be too careful. Also. How difficult will it be? To ensure that we land. With full fuel tanks."

   The main pilot shrugged.

   "We could plan on a refueling stop, before we reach our destination. May I ask why?"

   "Just, being too careful. Where we are going? I would not wish to have any difficulties. To leaving. Fuel? Would be a way to complicate things. I wish to limit, possible complications."

   Panic eased into the conversation.

   "What would, possible complications even be."

   "Being careful. I explain. My information, is that we might be able to get what you seek, from a man. Obviously, this man is greedy. We will be paying, for the information. Now. A greedy man? Can always be counted on. To take your money. But. A greedy man? Can also be counted on. What prevents him, from picking up the phone. Just after we leave. And telling someone, that we were there. Perhaps, this person might be happy, to have been told this. Fuel, would be a way to delay us. As I said. I am simply trying to be more careful."

   "You think, a man greedy enough to spill the beans? Will try to see if he now has something he can sell."

   "Is possibility."

   "You make those decisions."

   "Then? That is what I would do. Here."

   He showed the pilots exactly where he wanted to go. They suggested a "real airport", shortly before. Based on range, they decided to stop on the way there, as well. The copilot looked at the lay of the plan.

   "Why don't we just file a flight plan for Cancun, Mexico. Popular tourist trap, lots of nice resorts. Entirely normal trip. Its more or less on the way. Then? That puts us more than close enough, to... the refueling stop you want, just before we arrive."

   "If experienced pilots, think this is wise? I would trust the opinion."

   With a flight plan in mind, the pilots went over a few things, then we were in the air soon after. Once we no longer had to wear seat belts and were free to move around, I smiled at Panic.

   "Honey. Didn't you say you picked something up for our new friend?"

   "Oh, yes. Vladimir?"

   "Hmm."

   "My wife thought it would be a nice gesture? To get you a little gift. We obviously had no idea what, and... we were told Yuri was Russian. Taking the chance you would be Russian? Here."

   He gave him the gift boxed expensive vodka. It even came in a stained wooden crate with what looked like wood-burned logo and printing.

   "I am touched. Thank you, very much. You did not have to, but? I am glad you did. Again. Thank you."

   "Just trying to be polite."

   "Mm. Polite business? Is good business."

   "We, have a long flight. Perhaps, you might like to sample it?"

   "Oh. Only after business meeting, is complete. For me. I have objective. And objective? Is only thing. Focus, and dedication? Are very important. But. If we are successful, and on return trip? Yes, I would like very much."

   "As you wish."

   After a time of watching him simply sit there, seeming neither perturbed nor pleased... I sat next to him. I patted him lightly on the arm.

   "So. You said you will not be going back."

   "To United States? Yes. But, to shit hole? No."

   "Did you have an American girlfriend?"

   "No. I did not."

   "Why not. I'm sure there were some girls in Brooklyn, that like the strong silent type."

   "Mrs. Panic?"

   "Merry. Panic, is just what people call my husband. He's Panic, I'm Merry."

   "Very good. Merry."

   "Yes?"

   "There are different reasons. Some, more important. The, less important reason? Owner of shit hole. Owned the business establishment, you visit. He also, own little restaurant. On other side, of block. You go in back of shop you find me in? You can go in back of restaurant. Basement? Is same."

   I glanced at Panic, then back. I wasn't getting anything out of this.

   "I live, in basement. Is shit hole. Also? I work, every day. I am told, that living in shit hole basement? Is most of my pay. Vladimir, you live here. This costs rent. Vladimir? You eat the food we lose money on, not selling to customer. This costs money. Is called... room, and, board."

   "You work every day, live in the basement, and don't get paid very much?"

   "Yes."

   Panic got up and went to the bathroom. I'm pretty sure he really doesn't have to go. I can tell from looking at him, he's pissed. Owner of shit hole, as Vladimir calls him. Was using him for a slave. I can read Panic like a book. He'd like to have words with the guy, and smack him around. Karma tab. Panic would consider it a service to him, to collect it before the interest built up too high that he couldn't afford the payments.

   "I have heard men say, I have money and no time. I have also heard men say, I have time but no money. Both of these men? Are more fortunate, than I was. I had no time and no money. American girls? May like, as you say. Strong, silent, type. But? Not strong silent type, living in basement, with no time and no money. This? Is, less important reason."

   "And the more important reason."

   He sighed.

   "I had a wife. My Betanya. I had two little children. Little Vladimir, and little Betanya. I love, my wife and my two little children? Very much. We lived in a little village. On Russian side, of Ukrainian Russian border. This? Was before the problems in the Ukraine. When the problems come? Is not my problem. Is not my fight."

   I waited. Something was coming.

   "And one day, I come home. From working. My wife, Betanya. Also, my little Betanya and my little Vladimir. They were taken from me."

   "Who took them?"

   "Police. Police, from Ukrainian side of border. They dress, as Russian soldiers? But, everyone know. It takes more than just uniform, to be Russian soldier. Some people, knew a few of them."

   "I'm sorry."

   "I am not only person, this happens to. Now. If you want to fight? That is fine. This does not concern, my Betanya, and little Vladimir and little Betanya. It did not concern me. Until? They do this. And now? Ukrainian police, have problem. The men were going to fight. Yuri? Comes to me. Yuri? Is businessman. If you do business in little villages? You meet him. Yuri had come before. I did not want to fight. But now? Much is different."

   He was looking out, addressing the window on the other side of the plane. Not a hint of emotion. In a instant, it all came flooding back. Wizzy, getting gut shot in front of me. Tasting his blood and guts, feeling the stinging in my eyes and nostrils. Watching him die during the ambulance ride he would not live to see the destination of.

   "Yuri took me. To be with him, and his men. He explained. Is chess game. These men? Are the pawns. You? Are not pawn. We will fight smart. While other men were fighting? We waited. We killed some men, and took their uniforms. Now? We walk right up, to that Ukrainian police station. Walk right in. Very friendly. Is obvious, they were with the fighting."

   What could I say. Wizzy, is smiling and shrugging. What can you even do.

   "That place? When we left. They still had police station. But? They had no more police. I am sure you understand."

   I nodded. Wizzy is smiling and shrugging on replay.

   "And this? Is, more important reason. When we were done, Yuri ask me to stay with him. I did. The fighting continued? But, it stayed on the side of the border, that it belong on. Yuri took me with him. He treat me very well. We trust each other. Very much. Yuri ask me. If I want to go, to university."

   "You wanted to go?"

   "Very much. In Russia? You take test. Good university? Is only for very high score. When I was young, I almost make it, to university. I miss, by very little."

   I smiled.

   "What did you want to go to school for."

   He shrugged.

   "I wanted to study chemistry, I wanted to be, chemist. I do not know why. Was what I wanted."

   "Well. You got to go become a chemist, then."

   "No. Even with Yuri as sponsor? Must still pass test. Once again. I miss test, by a very little bit. But? Yuri said I was a small village businessman. I understand business. And so? I now take test. For, business and psychology. I pass both tests, very well. And so? Yuri sponsors me, to go to university. I got very good grades, and I got my degrees. I was very happy, though I was sad for my wife and children. Yuri, was very proud of me. My village? Is no longer. Your NATO? Big bombs. My home? Is, just big smoking craters, in ground. I go there. It, looks like walking on the moon."

   I said nothing.

   "And so? I stay with Yuri. He is good man. He treats me, very well. Yuri teach me. It is about focus? And dedication. Also? A man must have honor. No women, no children. And. Only man, that deserve this thing."

   "And, Yuri is an investor."

   Vladimir shrugged.

   "He was businessman. And he was good at it. He was successful. But yes. Yuri, became only an investor. He takes me with him. To Paris. He needed man, he can trust. And so? I become Yuri's facilitator. Also? The other business men, that Yuri dealt with. I speak Russian. I understand, the Russian way of doing things. If Yuri can not be in Russia? He sends me. I am then, allowed to speak for Yuri. In important business meetings. This? Is a very high honor."

   "I'm very sorry for your wife and children, Vladimir."

   He nodded. He went back to being quiet, and displaying no outward signs of anything. If I had to guess? He's seeing his own little movie on repeat. So, I suppose we're both now watching our own personal in flight movie. After a time, I gave him the quick overview of Wizzy and that dirty police had killed him in front of me. He nodded.

   "Then, you understand very well."

   He paused.

   "My Betanya? When I came home and found her. She had no clothes on. Which I found very strange, for the middle of the afternoon. My little Betanya and my little Vladimir? Were chopped up. Like, so much firewood. Just like my wife. Little Betanya? Was also, with no clothes on. Very strange, for cold day in afternoon, in my little village."

   He was being polite. They had raped his wife and little daughter, before chopping them all up. It doesn't take much imagination, to believe they killed the children in front of his wife. Before ending her life.

   I can see Panic. He's just around the corner to the cockpit. He can hear. I can tell by the look on his face, he's not happy. More zombies. More helpless and innocent lives taken. And not just killed, but tortured and the human carcasses savaged. My intuition was all too spot on the money. Vladimir is very much like my own Panic. You either go to pieces? Or, you get down on their level and teach the monsters what it means to be afraid of the dark.

   Its in every old black and white monster movie. The monster? Kills and terrorizes with impunity. Everyone hides, terrified. Then? The villagers have had enough. They break out the torches and the pitchforks. They hunt the monster down? And put an end to it. Monsters understand nothing else. You just have to learn to speak their language.

   I waited, and Panic returned and sat down opposite to us. I tried to change the subject.

   "So, what did you do for work. In Brooklyn shit hole."

   "Ah. I have told you. How I started. What I had, in my little village. I was happy, for a time. And? What happened, to my happiness. Yuri was very good to me, after we left the fighting. But, in Paris? I never had it so good. Very good food. Very good drink. A very nice place to live. I had many things. I had more money, than I knew what to do with. And? I had time, to do it with."

   He shrugged.

   "But? All good things must come to be gone. Yuri was, accused of things he did not do, and did not have control over. It was excuse, to put Yuri in jail. Before Yuri was sentenced, he takes me aside. We will all be going to the United States in time. You? Will go now. Yuri has eyes. As I have eyes. We can see. Paris? Is turning into shit hole. Vladimir, do not wait for this thing to happen to you. You? Will go now. I will handle this problem, and I will join you."

   A little pause.

   "And so. Yuri? Finds a man. He tells me. He gives the man, money. To buy, the two business you see me there. So? We will have a little something, when he comes. He tells me. I? Am to manage what Yuri has bought. Yuri trusts me. To watch over his, business matters. Off I go. To Brooklyn."

   I'm confused. It must have showed on my face.

   "And you are puzzled. I was very much puzzled, as well. Man who thinks he owns shit hole? He only owns, because Yuri pays for this. Yuri was sentenced. For 15 to 20 years. For? Made up, financial irregularity. Apparently, owner of shit hole? Thinks he is in great position. I am not manager. Man who can not even play chess, is manager. Owner's cousin. I live in basement. Work every day. Always yelled at, told how stupid I am."

   "That's not very nice."

   "Very impolite. But? I was told. I must keep, nose clean. No trouble. Yuri's orders. And so? I wait. I learned, that Yuri's lawyers were successful. In showing evidence that was ignored. Lies, in court."

   He shrugged.

   "Now? Is not so long a time to wait. I do not speak for Yuri on this matter. Is not my place. But, when owner of shit hole, sees Yuri walk in one day soon. I do not think Yuri will be pleased. When Yuri has a business meeting, and you make deal. You shake hands. Now? You are expected, to meet your end of the deal. This man? Did not. He took Yuri's money. He fucked Yuri's manager, me. And so, he has stolen off of Yuri. You see. When Yuri sees you can be trusted, and you show loyalty? He is happy. He will reward you with many things. And if you also show you are smart, and display... focus, and dedication? This makes Yuri very very happy. And there is nothing he will not do for you."

   He shrugged.

   "But? You do not steal off of Yuri. Shake his hand, then fuck him behind his back. Perhaps, he thinks because Yuri will be gone for 15, 20 years? He can now do this thing. But? Is now 18 months or so."

   "What do you think Yuri will do?"

   He shrugged.

   "I told owner. Many times. He laughed at me. And so? I let him... dig, his, own, grave. But, you ask. What will Yuri do. I do not know. But, I know this. If Yuri does anything? It will not be to women, or children. Also? I have told people. It is only, the owner. No others, are at fault."

   "You ask what I did. I, have only told you what I was supposed to do. Manage Yuri's affairs, until he came. But? As things turned out. I clean the floors. The toilets. I work every day, from business open, until business close. Pizza shop? Close at two in the morning. Restaurant? Open at ten in the morning."

   "Why didn't you just, walk away?"

   He looked like I suggested eating a turd and drinking piss to wash it down.

   "To leave? When things go bad. That? Is not showing focus, dedication. I stay. I keep my eye on things. I know Yuri is coming soon, and nobody else, does. What else do I do. Help in two kitchens. Clean things. Brooklyn? Is shit hole. I go with delivery drivers, when order looks... shady. I have found people, who have robbed our delivery drivers."

   "You take care of the man that... stole the businesses, and treats you, like a---"

   "You are not remembering. Is not really, his business. It belongs to Yuri. That? Was deal. When you steal off of the business? You are stealing, off of Yuri. I do not tolerate this. Also? Some employees, think they can steal. I do not tolerate this."

   "And, the owner... doesn't see you doing this for him, and be nicer to you?"

   "He did not. And so, one day when he meets Yuri. Sooner than he expected. Who knows."

   "But, you're finally leaving."

   "I stayed up most of the night. Talking to people. I was given word, I trust. Yuri told me I no longer had to stay. I was told, Yuri was pleased with me. As you see. I was, ready to go."

   "Where will you go. After, this."

   "I was given, wire transfer. Asked to handle this, business matter. For Yuri. I was told, the rest is for me. To, allow me to relax a little. Until Yuri returns. Also? I am honored. To be asked, and trusted. To handle business matters, in Yuri's place. For instance. When this matter is over? I was told to follow you two. To, Bermuda. Was shown picture. Is very beautiful. Lots of seafood. Russians? Love seafood. I will drink little glass of red wine, with my crab legs. Also? I think, I will go fishing. Maybe scuba diving. Have always wanted to try."

   He looked off for a moment, silent.

   "I looked. They have dolphin. I will pet, dolphin. In water. My Betanya? When we were happy in our little village. She would see the people, on the internet. Petting dolphins. She would show little Betanya, and little Vladimir, this thing. They were little children. They were excited, to maybe one day we all go and see dolphin, pet them."

   Another momentary pause.

   "I did not have, burning desire to pet dolphin. But? It would make my wife and children, very happy. And so? I will go and pet dolphin. For them."

   I wanted to change the subject again. I'm running out of topics I can be superficially interested in.

   "What kind of work did you do. When life was good, in your village."

   "When I did not make test, to be a chemist at university? I worked little jobs. Until, I could buy a truck. Instead of a car, like most people do. I took the extra food, from the little farms. From my village, and a couple others around. I would drive it, to city. Where, it is worth more. It was a good job I made for myself. A little business. This, is how I met Yuri. He will pay me more, for taking the same extra food, to the same place. He? Has many people like me, coming to him. He pays us more. He takes it to larger city, and makes more. Everyone? Happy."

   Another pause.

   "One day, a man comes. He is trying to take us away, and to work with him. Instead of Yuri. He offers? A little more money. But, not so much more. I already had good job. Was already very happy. Plus? I already know Yuri. I can count on him. I can not count on this new man. I tell him, no. I have deal? With Yuri. I do not make deal, with you. Yuri said, I show loyalty. And so? Yuri bought me another truck. Very few people, reward loyalty. With a second truck? I make more. Is easy to pay Yuri back. He pays for gas until extra food delivery, pays for truck. And after that? I do even better. I got a few more trucks, and friends to drive once a week. I am now? Little businessman, in little village. Life? Was very good, for a time. I was very close, to maybe going and seeing my wife and children smile. Petting, the dolphin. I was now in position? To one day sponsor little Vladimir, to go to university."

   "Until everything went to hell."

   "Yes. First? Your NATO. Took Russian countries, and made little revolutions. Put criminals, in charge of government. This? Is stealing, off of Russia. We see, from just over border. What happens in Ukraine. And? None of it good. Most of the Ukrainian people? Are Russian. Speak, Russian. Are? Russian. They do not want. And fights break out from this. If Russia came, and had revolution. In, Alaska. Would United States be very happy? I do not think so. There would be fight."

   In the news? Its all about freedom, and how oppressed people are being liberated. To the people being liberated in such a fashion? Seems like they don't want it, and they're being stolen.

   "Many strangers come, after Ukraine is... liberated. Strange customs. Strange, business practices. This man, who tried to steal me off of Yuri? Was one of these. I stayed with Yuri. I showed loyalty, and I prospered. The men that went the other way? They got fucked. What can be done. After other examples, such as this one? All the same. We, made sure the strange people in Ukraine, were not welcome."

   "I could see that happening."

   "Why do we want fucked? We already have our own wives, we do not need fucked by strangers. Little joke. Wife? Will fuck you. But? Wife, will cook you dinner, and kiss you. Before she fucks you. Strange business practices? Only the fucking. No kiss, no dinner."

   I couldn't help but laugh.

   "We have old Russian proverb. Men, who do bad things? Will always tell you, what was done to them. But? They will never tell you... why."

   "Well. Things are going better for you, now. That's something."

   "Yes. And I thank you. I would have been another 18 months. In Brooklyn shit hole. And now? No longer. Yuri said he did not know what was going on. I will be rewarded. For loyalty. For focus, and dedication. Man must show good example."

   I patted his wrist. He nodded.

   "Panic? Merry? I was up all night. Communicating. If you do not need anything else. It is a long trip. I would like, to take nap. Please not to think I am being rude."

   We told him by all means, go ahead.

   He went in the bathroom and changed. When he came out, he was wearing just drawstring sleeping pants. He pulled out a trundle, a little bed from under the couch cushion he had been sitting on.

   "Good night. If you wish to know more of where I am from? We can talk later. I am very tired."

   We wished him good night, and thanked him again for helping us.

   After he had laid down? He pulled the trundle, with himself in it, back under the cushion. Then closed the expensive leather upholstered cover back down. Sealing himself in.

   Like an animal, hiding in its den for the night.