Greco looked over to Severinov, who also nodded.
“We can provide,” he stated, “but I don’t think we should trust him. I want to know more about why he wishes to work with us.”
“I don’t give a shit about working with you,” I corrected. “Like I told your nephew—you mean nothing to me.”
I teetered on being too disrespectful, but I had to give the impression I was only going to lower myself so far.
“You’re insulting!” the Russian snapped back.
“You’re nothing,” I replied coldly. I sat up in the chair and leaned forward, looking straight at Greco. “Look—I can either do this here and be an asset for your organization, or I can move my ass to New York and provide my services to another outfit.”
“Why don’t you just move to New York?” Greco asked. “It seems it would be safer for you.”
“Because I like Chicago,” I replied. I leaned back again and watched him, waiting for an answer. “The traffic in New York sucks.”
Greco took in a couple long breaths, looked to Andrey, and then looked at his fingernails, all in a lame ruse to give the impression he hadn’t already decided, but eventually bobbed his head in agreement.
“You will get your space and your guns,” Greco said, “but no money from me up front. You’ll get your ten grand after the job is done.”
I snorted through my nose. The only reason I had put the cash on the list was to give him something to deny me.
“Sure I will,” I mumbled. I kept my cigarette cupped against my hand as I took a long drag.
“Why do you hold it like that?” Micah piped up as he nodded toward my cigarette.
I looked him in the eye.
“Snipers look for the light,” I told him. “Even without night vision, it’s clearly visible with a scope from a mile away. Makes you an easy target if they can see the tip—just aim for the light.”
His eyes narrowed at me a bit.
“Are we finished here?” Greco asked, ignoring Micah’s interruption.
“Yep.” I took a final drag of my smoke and stubbed it out on the table. “It’s a deal. My number’s on the back of the paper. Call me when you have my shit.”
I stood and turned my back to them. It was a bold move, and I meant it to look as such. Craig could have easily pegged me in the back if he wanted to, but I was fairly certain Gavino Greco was already seeing me for the asset I was.
There was no shot as I walked through the door and let it slam behind me.
*****
It took less than twelve hours for Gavino to deliver, including a little room in a hotel a few blocks away from Quay, up near the top floor with easy access to the stairs and roof. Inside the room were the assault rifle I had requested, a Glock, a SIG, and a couple other rifles and handguns. I’d only really cared about the AR and the SIG—the other weapons were extras in case Greco decided to play hardball about my requests.
I checked over the weapons, made sure they hadn’t been tampered with or anything, and then turned to Gavino and Craig. Andrey hadn’t joined them for this little exchange, and Micah had been stationed outside the door, but he was still listening intently.
“It’ll be done,” I informed him.
“When?” he asked.
“You haven’t actually paid me for this,” I reminded him, “so it’ll be done when I feel like it.”
I was testing the waters, no doubt. I needed to know exactly how far I could go—how far I could push—and still have him agreeable. He narrowed his eyes, and Craig crossed his arms as I made a bit of a display to show my annoyance.
“A few days,” I told him. “No more than that.”
I actually planned to have it done within a few hours, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Good.”