Page 116 of Doubts of the Egoist
Yugo turned to see Greg pulling back a dark gray curtain that hid a plastic composting toilet. The rings squeaked against the metal bar as they slid reluctantly. The toilet didn’t smell, but its proximity to the bed explained why Mio preferred the upper bunk.
“Who would have thought you were afraid of mice, Tobias. And here I thought you were fearless.”
“Not the mice themselves, but of the infections they carry. If you took the time to learn the history of your own country, you’d be scared too.”
“I did learn it; which is why I know the bubonic plague is a thing of the past,” Yugo replied, staring at the metal hose with a showerhead curled around the built-in sink in the corner. The hose had a brass adapter that could be connected to the faucet. The massive drain in the floor suggested that Mio prioritized functionality over comfort. The odd contrast of luxury and poverty coexisted in strange harmony everywhere.
“Whatever, just don’t cry whenyouget bitten,” Tobiassnarled, glancing under the desk to make sure the rodent was gone. Then he took the chair and got back to work.
Surveying the small hideout, Yugo thought about Mio’s trip to Afghanistan and how challenging it must have been for him to sleep in the car with his frail constitution and health issues. He felt responsible for that, for all of Mio’s actions that seemed like direct confrontations, cries for attention, or calls for help. He wished he could help, but he didn’t know how, especially now that Mio was so out of control.
He let go of the bedsheet and turned toward his people. “How did you find this place?”
“Connection issues, impatience, and Mio’s passion for baked goods,” Greg summarized, surveying the room with bright, eager eyes like a puppy shown a ball. He pulled out his phone, checked something on it, then pointed to a portable Wi-Fi router. “I guess it doesn’t work well underground. I only get one bar, and it drops every ten seconds. Mio was probably short on time, so he logged into his email at the internet café down the street. All that was left was to ask around.” Greg nodded at the brown paper bag. “A waiter at the bakery remembered Mio and said he was hanging around the closed station.”
“Motherfucker…” Tobias muttered under his breath, then jumped to his feet and kicked the makeshift table. The round plywood tabletop crashed to the floor. The tires collapsed with heavy thuds, the top one rolling toward Yugo. He stopped it with his foot. The impact caused a metal box hidden inside to fall out.
“Ah, what do we have here?” His outburst of anger died as quickly as it had risen, and Tobias crouched down to pick up the box.
The lid of a tin cookie box bore a lithographed huntingmotif. It looked vaguely familiar and certainly old. Its hidden location suggested great importance to Mio, so Yugo snatched it from Tobias’ grasp before he could investigate.
“I’ll handle this. Thank you, Tobias, you can get back to whatever you were cursing at.” Yugo carefully opened the box and found a few photos, a nostalgic smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Some were from the past when Mio was young and innocent. The others were new and a bit creepy because they’d been taken without his consent. Yugo quickly stashed them in his inner pocket, away from prying eyes, and found, beneath them, a pack of fake IDs, bank cards, and money stuffed in the box.
Growing concerned, he flipped through the IDs, reading one false name and nationality after the next. But while the names were different, the photo was the same. Holograms overlapped the photos, and the lettering was clear and included the owner’s credentials, making the IDs appear legitimate.
“Is he playing a spy?” Ignoring Yugo’s request for privacy, Tobias scoffed, craning his neck to look into the box.
“Find out who made these, and what else they made for him.” Yugo thrust the box at him, then crouched down to inspect the tire. He pulled out a cloth bag and carefully unwrapped it. Inside were a few boxes of Factor VIII, alcohol wipes, and a tourniquet. Yugo stared at the medical kit for a moment, then carefully put the cloth back and reassembled the improvised table. “Leave everything as is.”
“Not happening,” Tobias said. “I need to know what the hell is going on, so I’m taking everything.”
Yugo wavered. He wanted to give Mio freedom of action and see what he was capable of, but Tobias was right. Whateverthe brat was up to, it didn’t look good.
Encouraged by the lack of argument, the blond turned to his men and gestured toward the hardware. “Take this to the office, and be careful.”
An ear-debilitating hailof phone calls and messages bombarded Yugo’s phone even before he arrived home. The unsettling news made him glad he’d already fixed his broken tooth because his jaw was too tense to relax.
Four of their trucks got stuck in the desert, surrounded by the Al-Amin militia. The drivers hadn’t been threatened or harmed yet, just stopped. Simultaneously, all the Al-Amin lines went dead at once, leaving Yugo floundering in an information vacuum filled with anxiety and disjointed fragments of information.
Even the stoic Greg became a nervous wreck. Jittery and jumpy, he drove with his left hand while answering messages with his right, eyes more on the screen than the road. His forehead glistened with sweat from concentration, and his eyes were red from strain. When Greg ran a red light for the third time, Yugo told him to switch seats. The rest of the way, they drove in tense silence, broken only by the ringing of cell phones.
By the time the car passed through the mansion gates, Yugo had smoked a dozen cigarettes. His mind whirled with worry, and as soon as he entered the house, he rushed to his office. Greg’s phone rang even before Yugo landed his ass in his chair. His dark eyes narrowed as the bulky man listened wordlessly to the message, then hung up and turned to his boss.
“It seems there’s a coup going on in the Al-Amin group.Kais is fighting for the throne.”
“Hmm…” Yugo rubbed his chin, thinking it wasn’t all bad news. It made perfect sense that the trucks had been stopped, suggesting that Kais wanted to renegotiate or at least ensure the drivers wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire. So far, he saw only one real problem. “News about Mio?”
“Not yet…”
Yugo hummed again, then reached for a cigarette. “Grab your laptop. Let’s see what’s going on in Afghanistan.”
The office Yugohad always found spacious enough became crowded and stuffy within two hours, as uninvited people filled it without any warning. Rudolph and Tobias occupied the guest chairs. Gustavo lounged on the couch as Greg stood propped against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Diego Ortega, Gustavo’s protégé, took the bar corner.
“It feels like I’ve been away for weeks, not hours. Who are all these people, and where’s everyone?” Tobias asked, then yawned, revealing his larynx before licking his dry, colorless lips.
“Quit. Why? Gonna miss someone?” Yugo asked, knowing Tobias was irritated about having to find a new informant.
“Even Mary?” His sandy eyebrows furrowed. “Damn, she was the light of my nights spent here. It’s such a loss… Have you hired anyone cute to replace her?”
