Harry could tell from the expression on his face that Nickolai was not happy to see him waiting outside the garage sitting in the bus stop area. He was not really waiting for a bus and he already knew the next one was not due for more than half an hour. That was the reason he had the stop all to himself with no other passengers to listen in on his conversation.
Nickolai was a stocky guy with a face that made one happy to not be in a dark alley alone with him in the middle of the night. Strangely, Harry knew the ugly scars and broken nose was a big turn-on for most of the young girls looking for something different at closing time. Nickolai’s problem was that he really was not very skillful in close-in fighting and he was far too slow to hold his own against a younger opponent. Harry had saved his ass on more than one occasion in their black market days when they were both rolling in money and had girls panting to get on-board the gravy train. Those days were gone forever and Nickolai had a wife and 3 kids in one of the subsidized apartment buildings in the re-built section of the old city now.
“What you want now, Harry? I only got about 2 hours before I got to go to Pancevo for Embassy provisions.”
Harry looked up at the lumbering driver and told him,
“I just need you for a quick run across the river to the train platform outside the city. I want to catch the overnight to Zagreb. There will be a passenger with me. Don’t ask her any questions. Pick us up outside my hotel in 15 minutes.”
Nickolai just nodded his head and went back inside the garage to sign out the car with diplomatic plates. Harry knew they would not be stopped for any reason and in these days it probably would not even be recorded because of slack operations around the city.
Harry knew his associate would not mention anything to his fellow workers or even to his pretty young wife who was always worrying about money. He walked briskly back to the hotel hoping that “The Dancer” was already dressed and ready to start out.
He handed her the back-pack that he had picked up at the station check room and she quickly opened it to extract some lipstick to put on her wind-chapped lips. He hoped she wasn’t stupid enough to have any weapons or drugs hidden inside. They went down the stairs and out the side entrance so the desk clerk would not ask any unwelcome questions.
Nickolai was just pulling up in the Chevrolet Suburban and they jumped inside and were almost to the bridge before anyone said a single word.
“Harry, I don’t park next to platform. Better I park one block over and you walk to platform. I be right, yes?”
Harry looked at the vacant-eyed girl who was staring off into the distance utterly bored with everything around her.
“Good thinking, Nickolai, here is something to buy that pretty wife of yours a new dress.”
Harry passed him an envelope crammed with money stuffed inside. It was not as much as they used to make in the old days but it was a lot better than he made in the garage.
“Thanks, Harry; everything is costing a lot more these days. Any chance you can get me some whiskey for my wife’s Slava party next week?”
Harry looked at the rough looking hulk in the driver’s seat. It was amazing how domestic life had tamed the animal inside the “always ready for a fight” Nickolai.
“The Dancer” was sitting quietly looking out the window at the palatial estates flashing by on each side. Most of them were owned by the government and rented to the diplomatic corps and to commercial investors from EU countries and richer Asian countries. Her face was a bit pensive as if she was expecting something to happen and was trying to prepare for the worse. Harry could not help but think how delectable her mouth looked with just a little bit of lipstick applied to it. She turned to him seeing his eyes locked on her face giving him a wistful smile. She started to speak but just cleared her throat instead keeping silent in probable deference to the presence of Nickolai in the front seat. Harry saw that as a positive sign of caution, a valuable trait in dangerous situations.
