In for a Ruble by David Duffy Read Free Book Online

onlookers remained where they were.
    “One more chance, zek . What kind of information?”
    I had the dim idea that I was better off if he thought I was hired to find him than if I was trying to compete with him.
    “Whatever you left behind.”
    He considered that for a moment before he slugged me once more. This time, stew splattered a parked car before I fell to my knees and vomited more stew onto the sidewalk. His strength was superhuman. I couldn’t take much more of this. No one could.
    The other four guys moved in close. They were looking around. More onlookers stopped to see what was happening.
    Nosferatu was impervious. He pulled me upright. His eyes bored into mine. “If you have one ounce of intelligence, and your Cheka file indicates you used to, you will stay the fuck away from things that are none of your fucking business.” Two steel fingers stabbed my chest, punctuating each word with enough force to crack ribs. “That way, you might live out the week. I will tell you one more thing—if you see me again, it will be the last time.”
    My back exploded in pain as one of his cohorts hit me in the kidney. Nosferatu’s fist came around once more—into the right side of my face. The left side bounced off the cold concrete of the sidewalk.
    *   *   *
    I didn’t try to get up.
    A good Samaritan rolled me over and offered to call an ambulance. I told him I was fine. He looked dubious. He was surely right. I didn’t want the help he was going to call. I made it to my knees without retching. Nosferatu and his friends were nowhere to be seen.
    “Fight over a girlfriend,” I murmured. The Samaritan still looked dubious. I took his hand and he pulled me to my feet. Everything spun. I was surrounded by five or six people, all wanting to help, none quite sure how.
    “I’m okay,” I croaked. “I’ll be fine.” None of them believed me.
    “I called nine-one-one,” another Samaritan shouted, holding up his cell phone. “Ambulance on the way.”
    I took a step toward the curb, scanning the street for a cab, before my knees buckled.
    The first Samaritan held me up. “Easy,” he said. “Help’s coming.”
    “Thanks.” I was still scanning the street. “Let me lean on this car.”
    He released his grip and I stumbled against a parked SUV. A free cab sped down the avenue, three lanes over. I took a breath and stepped halfway into the street, hand raised as high as I could. Every muscle screamed. The cab hit the breaks, cut across traffic and screeched to a stop a foot away. I might have been safer with Nosferatu. I should have thanked the Samaritans, but I was bound for freedom. I yanked the door open, causing more muscle protest, fell into the backseat, and croaked, “Downtown.”
    I all but passed out as the driver pressed the pedal to the floor.
    *   *   *
    I pulled myself upright around Thirty-fourth Street, causing shooting pains in my chest, back and head. I told the driver to drop me at Pine and Water. His look in the rearview mirror was more dubious than the ones from the Samaritans. He wore a turban and the name on the license was Indian. He said, “Excuse me, sir, not my business, but you want hospital, maybe?”
    “Pine and Water,” I repeated.
    “But, sir, you look…”
    “Pine and Water!”
    “Yes, sir.”
    He still didn’t appear happy when we got there, but he took the twenty I pushed through the divider, let me get out, which I managed without falling, and sped away at the one speed he seemed familiar with. I nodded feebly to the night guard in the lobby, who’s used to comings and goings at all hours in all conditions, and took the elevator up to the office.
    Foos and I rent the twenty-eighth floor of a boring tower with stunning views. We have a reception area nobody uses—it was left by the previous tenants—that has chairs and a sofa. I stretched out on the latter for a rest. I might have passed out, I’m not sure. When I felt up to moving again, I stumbled down