The Deal

The heat wave had come upon us suddenly, like the blast from an opened oven door. People moved through the streets listlessly; ships without rudders or bees made drowsy by the summer sun. Many took refuge in the cafés and bars, eyes lured by flashing neon lights and hooked by the promises of air conditioning and ice clinking in glasses. The ice in mine had long since melted, my attention drawn to other matters. Namely, the enormous amount of money I now owed to someone you were wise not to owe money to.

Naturally, he chose that moment to walk past the window and glance into the bar. A big smile lit up his face, and I swear that on the radio some choir started singing "O Fortuna." An omen indeed, and not a good one.

He pushed open the door and the atmosphere changed. Even in this weather the room seemed to cool. His presence had a greater effect than his stature would indicate; he radiated power. Of course, the pair of 250lb suits on either shoulder helped. Eyes stared down into drinks and a sudden hush fell over the room as he walked to my table and sat.

"Hello James," he said pleasantly. "What a coincidence meeting you here."

His grin was like a corpse's, and his eyes were just as dead. Behind him, the other patrons got up and left. The braver ones finished their drinks first - but quickly.

"Mr Franco," I acknowledged. No escape.

"Now, James," he began. "As you know, I have extended you a few favours recently."

One hundred and seventy thousand favours, to be more precise. To someone like me, it may as well have been one hundred and seventy million.

"I think the time have come for me to ask a few favours in return."

Meaning he owned me. He leaned forward, a serious expression on his face above steepled fingers.

"As you know, my uncle Enzo is in custody."

You hear phrases like ' a chill ran through me', but i actually shivered. I knew what was coming, had known what was coming, but it still didn't help.

"Clearly a man of his noble character could never be guilty of the ... heinous crimes of which he is accused, but other, less honourable parties have conspired to level these charges against him."

He was as guilty as sin and both of us knew it.

"Now, we need you to compromise this investigation. Extract a confession," - he actually made quotation marks with his fingers - "impress on the witnesses firmly what you need them to say, and our lawyers will tear the trial to shreds. Do you understand?"

He looked at me expectantly. I steeled myself.

"If you think I'm..."

"I don't think you do." He cut me off, raising a hand in a 'stop' gesture.

"This city is a dangerous place. Wouldn't it be a shame if your wife Claire pulled through her treatment only to fall victim to a botched mugging? If your daughter Lily got stuck with a needle by a crazy junkie with HIV?"

I felt any resistance falter and die under those lifeless eyes. I had no illusions that he wouldn't carry out his threats.

"Now, do we have a deal, or are my friends here going to take you around the corner and give you a taste of what they could bring your family?"

I looked up at them and knew any resistance would be futile. They'd drag me outside as easily as a child with a teddy bear.

"We have a deal," I said, and sold my soul.