Cantata

[joegoda]

The More Cafe was an open-air affair, with the patrons spreading out among tables and chairs that started inside the cafe and spread in a semi circular pattern three rows deep to the outside. It was a cheery place, and there was a mannequin sea captain in one of the windows that had a mechanical wink, not quite up to Disney animatronics, but still a very nice touch. Customers were able to order any form of coffee they wished, from all over the world. There were various alcohols as well, and a large selection of sandwiches and entrée's, most seafood.

Wells sat at a comfortable rounded stool to one side of the bar, near the kitchen door. It gave him a full view of the comings and goings of the patrons and staff. Jorj was there, behind the bar, shouting orders, talking and laughing with patrons. Occasionally, he would walk though the cafe proper, checking the reactions to the dishes, asking how the patrons were, making sure special orders were treated with that certain personal touch.

The two men made eye contact quite often. Jorj had a weary and tired look that belied the smile on his face as he moved from table to table or shouted orders to a cook or bartender. Wells sat casually, slowly sipping a rich local blend from a small cup. He wasn't sure who he was looking for, and he was depending on Jorj to provide the sign.

It was twenty after eight when Jorj caught Wells' eye and nodded shortly towards the front. Two men, both in their thirties, smartly dressed in khaki shorts, and natural canvas shirts. Dark haired, wearing sunglasses, they wandered to a table near the back on the other side from Wells and sat.

From his vantage point, Wells could see them clearly, and made sure that most of his attention was elsewhere. He did not want to attract attention to himself; he simply wanted to watch, to be patient and to follow the two when they left.

Jorj meandered his way through the cafe until he was standing at Wells' table. "You are a fool, you know," he said, smiling all the while. "You may get one, maybe two of them, but these are evil and dangerous men. There are many more than just these two."

"Let me worry about that, Jorj," Wells replied, smiling and nodding. "These two men over there," he nodded in the direction of the men, who were laughing and drinking a dark liquid from tall glasses, "you are sure they are slavers?"

"Mister Crispin, they are the two sons of the man who is responsible for the slave trade in this area. It is a family business. Those two are especially cruel and everyone in this area is afraid of them. You ask me if I'm certain?" The smile faded briefly to be replaced by honesty. Jorj's eyes squinted harshly. "Every day I live in fear of these men, coming to the door of my home. Every day I live in fear, Mister Crispin. Yes, I am certain." The smile came back as he heard his name called from behind the bar. "As certain as I am that you are a fool." He turned to the bar and yelled something in quick Italian. Then again, to Wells, he said, "We are done, Mister Crispin. As long as those men are alive, please do not come back here again." A quick nod and then he was off, to answer the call of business.

"Fair enough," Wells said, to Jorj's retreating back.

Hours passed. The two younger men were joined by a pair of crimson haired twins, dressed in as little as possible. They wore very short jean shorts and tiny cropped t-shirts. They sat with the two men and laughed and giggled and drank daintily from a pink mixture in a short glass.

Wells passed the time ordering shrimp scampi and an Italian fried ice cream for desert. He found himself enjoying the atmosphere against his will. If the circumstances had been different, he could easily imagine himself coming here every day, sitting at the bar, talking war stories with Jorj. He thought to himself that it was a shame that he found himself here, now, doing a dirty job that he believe he had walked away from. Perhaps after all was said and done... Well, time would tell.

Near midnight, the two men and their women rose and left. Wells gave them a few seconds head start, and then dropped enough money on the bar to cover his bill plus a healthy tip. Jorj silently noticed his leaving and nodded, but otherwise gave no indication they knew each other.

Wells walked out into the night. He paused once he reached the street and let the quiet seep into his ears. The sound of loud and drunken male and female laughter and conversation came from his left, so he turned to follow. Strolling casually, he let the sound of the conversation and footsteps lead his senses. When the sound stopped a number of blocks away, he let his momentum carry him forward. He caught sight of the small group ahead of him. They were standing in front a warehouse door. They were involved in kissing, which explained the silence. He marked the address of the warehouse in his memory and continued on his way past them.

He wandered down the street, turned the corner and made his way back to the hotel. It was past one thirty when he returned to his room, exhausted. Sarah greeted him as he entered the door.

"You had a visitor, Herbert," she said.

"Oh?" Wells said. "Tell me more, please."

"While you were out, Serge came in and searched through your luggage. He was very good and very thorough. Of course, he found nothing."

"Makes sense, since there is nothing to find." Wells said, undressing and flopping on the bed. "I, on the other hand have drunk coffee, had a very good shrimp scampi and a passable dessert. I also found the warehouse where the slavers are located. They aren't terribly bright, I don't think. It's located in the same town where the rescue took place. I would have thought they would have moved their base of operations."

"Perhaps they feel they are safe here, Herbert," Sarah suggested. "Like the gangsters of old Chicago, perhaps they saw the rescue as a minor setback and feel they have enough power here that they don't fear anyone."

"Perhaps, Sarah." Wells yawned largely. "Oddly enough, I think my trip home is exactly what I need. Then, once my business there is complete, I'll come back and finish the job." He closed his eyes and murmured. "What day is it?"

"It is August 13th, Herbert."

"Good. Ten days to go until the concert. Plenty of time." He yawned again, pulled the blankets up and turned on his side. "Wake me when there are three hours before the flight, will you?"

"Certainly, Herbert."

The flight back was much better than his flight away. From Zadar's airport, he flew to Paris. After a four-hour layover at DeGaul, he had a fourteen-hour flight to Cincinnati where he could sleep. From there it was a short hop home. It was just after 11 pm. He fished a business card out of his wallet and dialed the number that was printed on it. By the time he had gathered his luggage from the conveyor, there was a yellow taxi waiting for him outside.

Sharon stood by the trunk, casually smoking a cigarette. "Hey Richard!" she called out when she saw him. "How's the family?"

Wells smiled. "Hello Sharon. The family is fine, and doing well. My daughter is a good woman." He handed her his bags and she stowed them in the trunk.

"They didn't come with you?" she asked.

"No." His smile faded. "Sometimes it's best to say hello and then leave things alone, you know what I mean?"

Sharon frowned. "Let's get out of here." The two entered the cab, and left the airport.

Sharon was quiet for about a mile, and then asked, "Problems with the daughter?"

"Not really," Wells shook his head. "I think that it was a good first meeting." He gazed out the window at the house lights zipping by. It felt good to be back in the land of the familiar. He didn't want to think much about Kaylee and Laura. It was a hole in his heart that was too fresh for him to touch. "I expect the second time to be even better," he lied.

"Ah." Sharon said. "So you're just back to sort of wrap things up here?"

"Yes, Sharon," he said, "That's it exactly. I'm here to finish up what little business I have and then go back in a few days."

"Well..." Sharon let the rest of her thought fade. "Best of luck to you, chum. If you're ever back in town, you know who to call."

"Thank you, Sharon." Wells smiled warmly. "Rest assured that I'll certainly give you a call."

"You know that you can call me for more than just taxi service." Her voice was quiet.

"You and ummm..." Wells searched for the name and found it. "Mikey doing all right? Trouble at home?"

"Oh, just the normal money things." Sharon turned off the highway and was heading towards Wells' apartment. She glanced in the mirror. "Now, don't get the idea I was offering anything other than friendly company, bud." She smiled in the mirror. "I'm a married woman, and plan to stay that way. Monogamous all the way." The smile faded. "I just know what it's like to have a family that you don't quite fit into." She stopped at a red light and turned to face Wells. "Mikey had a twelve year old daughter when I married him. That step-parent job is not something I'd wish on my worst enemy." The light changed and she turned back to driving. "I have an idea that's kind of what you found over there." She glanced in the mirror. "Didn't you?"

"You're a very wise woman, Sharon." Wells said.

"Naw," Sharon laughed. "I've just seen some of the crapier times."

The cab was nearing Wells' apartment complex when he asked her to pull into the parking lot of the convenience store on the corner. "Just let me off here, Sharon. I need to pick up a few things." He pulled the fare from his wallet and included a sizable tip for her.

"I'll wait here and take you the rest of the way." She offered.

"No, really." Wells shook his head. "I've been gone so long, I'd just like to walk back. It's only a couple of blocks."

"You sure?" she asked. "It's not a problem. Really."

"No, but thank you." He got out of the cab. "You have a great life, Sharon. If I need you, I'll give you a call. Maybe on the way back to the airport in a few days?"

"You better, Richard." She put the cab in reverse and started to back out. "Or I'll find you and kick your ass!" The cab pulled out of the parking space and drove away. Sharon honked her horn twice to say goodbye.

Wells waved, and went into the store. He picked up a bag of potato chips, a bottle of soda and some aspirin. He waited in line, paid for his items when it was his turn, and stepped out of the door to walk the few blocks to his apartment.

As he neared the hill that led into the complex's parking lot, he looked towards his door. There were no odd shadows, no unfamiliar cars in the parking spaces, no unusual lights on.

"Huh," he muttered to himself. "Maybe for once, nobody is looking for me, or they're looking thousands of miles away." He sat on the grass in the shadow of a light pole, drinking from the bottle, eating from the bag of chips, just watching and waiting.

He didn't have to wait long. A figure wandered aimlessly around the far corner of the complex and walked quietly down the parking lot. The figure gave the appearance of nonchalance, and calmly walked up to Wells front door, opened it and let himself in. A light came on and shone through the blinds. Whoever it was, they felt confident enough to treat his apartment as their own.

"Hmm," thought Wells. "Let's go see which Goldilocks this one is." He stood up, brushed the grass from his trousers and wandered across the parking lot to his front door.

He wrapped his hand around the doorknob and gently turned it. The door wasn't locked. Quietly, he pushed the door open and found himself looking into the eyes of Martin.

"I think you can put down the baseball bat, Martin," Wells said.

Martin stood, stunned, bat poised to bash the skull of whoever was breaking in. Wells gently took the bat from him, placed it next to the bookcase by the door and said, "Sit down, Martin, we need to talk."

Martin reached forward, wrapped his arms around Wells and encased him in a bear hug. "Where the hell have you been, Amigo?" he cried. "I thought you were dead." He pushed away from Wells but kept a grip on his forearms. Martin looked him up and down. "Last I knew, you were supposed to meet me on Sunday for beers, but that was over a week ago."

"No, seriously," Wells said, "sit. I have a theory I want to run by you."