Page 14 of Pursuing the Egoist
“Crystal.”
2 WEEKS LATER
STANDING IN FRONTof the glowing-white projector screen, Yugo cleared his throat. Four men, present in the black conference room, tugged at their drinks as they lounged in deep, leather chairs surrounding the long, glass table. Their attention kept slipping, and soft chuckles burst in the air as the men remarked on Tobias’ appearance.
Yugo tried to remain professional and ignore the bleeding scratches on his cheek and neck as well as his torn shirt and yellow, disheveled hair that looked as if someone had pulled on it. But the canker in his self-control, the collective merriment caused, started bleeding with sarcasm before he knew it.
“Did you sleep with a hellcat?” he finally asked, fighting a smile.
“This girl I’m seeing, Linda… I swear she is bat-shit crazy. She walked in on me having a massage and misunderstood.”
“Yeah, like all of them,” Gustavo remarked. His black eyes lit up with laughter, and Rudolph snickered. Tobias innocently shrugged, causing another burst of laughter to ring through the room. Only Greg remained impassive. Staring at Tobias with clear deprecation, he shook his head.
When the noise subdued, Yugo clicked a button on the remote control he held. The projector clicked, and the screen displayed a green map. He looked every man in the eye for a brief moment, demanding their attention, then said, “The election is in two months. The sooner we pay the ‘taxes,’ the better. I’d prefer to get it off our shoulders next week. So, let’s go through the drill. The batch will arrive at the Romanian warehouse the day after tomorrow. Four tons of pure product. Gustavo?”
The man in his late thirties, dressed in a simple black suit without a tie, got up. Shoving his hands in his pants pockets, he approached Yugo. His black eyes radiated calm and contentment when he faced the remaining men.
“We’ll give away two hundred kilos of pure heroin.” His deep baritone carried tranquil notes.
“Two hundred?” Rudolph cracked. His face reddened, matching his reddish hair. “This is insane. It’s like what, eight million Euros?”
After finishing his ginger ale, Tobias fished an ice cube out of the tall glass with his fingers and threw it into his mouth. The crunching sound he produced made Yugo cringe. Tobias licked the water drops off his index finger then raised it in the air. “I agree. Make it fifty.”
The winter sun blazed through the slits in the lowered blinds, hinting at an early spring. It caught the black, wooden floor, heated it, intensifying the unpleasant smell of strong alcohol Rudolph and Gustavo consumed. Trying to ignore it, Yugo loosened the knot of his tie.
“Don’t be greedy,” he said, wanting to open the window and let the fresh air in. But for that, he would have to lift the blinds, causing the light to overpower the projection. “No one can win the election with just fifty kilos.”
Gustavo nodded. “We will cut it with paracetamol so it will be five to six hundred. It’s enough to impress anyone.”
“He isn’t running for the presidency. Fifty kilos will be more than enough. And why waste money on paracetamol? Mix it with sugar or starch.” Rudolph’s screechy voice abraded Yugo’s ears.
“It’s bad for business. We still have a reputation to maintain,” Gustavo reasoned. “It will be all over the news. You don’t want people to turn to Patrice and Gray because of poor quality products, do you?”
“At least mix it one to nine; no one will care.” Rudolph pressed again, but Yugo ignored him.
“People don’t like him. What if he doesn’t win anyway?” Tobias cocked his head, leaning into the leather seat, his pin-point pupils feasting on Yugo’s face. “It will be a waste of money. I say a hundred kilos top. Cut it one to five—you will have the same six hundred kilos.”
“One hundred and fifty.” Yugo gave in. “And make sure he wins, or you will be the one negotiating with a new mayor.”
“Negotiating with politicians and police is your job…” Tobias’ glare hardened.
“Then stop telling me how to do it, unless you want to take over,” Yugo growled.
“Anyway,” Gustavo cleared his throat. “The‘taxes’will be ready for delivery in six days.”
“Did you pick a scapegoat?” Approaching the glass table, Yugo perched on its edge, facing Gustavo and the screen.
Gustavo winced. Unwillingness shone in every gesture; he made an ambiguous movement with his chin.
“You can’t avoid it forever. It’s your turn.” Leaning back, Tobias folded his hands behind his head. His shirt rode up, revealing a happy trail on a toned stomach. “We all had people we weren’t happy to give up. This time, it has to be someone of yours.” Tobias’ eyes blazed with mischief as he provoked. “How about that lieutenant of yours, Diego?”
“No!” The deadly glare of Gustavo’s black eyes made Tobias grin and raise his hand in surrender.
“What about Gaston?” Yugo offered. “Not long ago, you said he lost seven kilos.”
Gustavo cringed. “No. He repaid it.”
“He did?” Yugo hummed his surprise. “Anyway, think about it. If you can’t find anyone else, burn Gaston. He has been useless lately.”
