They both removed the pistols from their holsters and laid them on the seat in the pickup. Cooper gave the guard a stern look as he did so, telling him not to disturb their weapons with the cock of his left eyebrow. They turned to the entrance and briskly walked towards it. When they arrived, the guard frisked them and then told them to follow him inside.
As they entered the restaurant, another half dozen men in black fatigues and carrying M16s were lounging in the lobby. Three were shooting dice in the corner, one dozed in a chair, and the remaining two were playing a card game that Cooper couldn’t decipher. They barely gave Cooper and Dranko a glance as they passed through.
The guard talked as they walked, “It is well you were recommended by Mr. Vang. He is respected here. The boss is comfortable with those he recommends to us. What part of town are you in?”
“Near Mount Tabor,” Cooper replied curtly, hoping his gruff tone would curtail the conversation. It didn’t.
“That is a nice part of town. Very close to here. How are things there?”
“We’re doing OK. Better than most.”
“Yes, it’s been very bad in parts of town. Did you hear what happened over in Sellwood?” he asked.
“No, I haven’t,” Cooper replied.
“Burned to the ground, all of it. Last night,” the guard said nonchalantly.
“All of it?” Dranko asked in surprise.
“Nearly so.”
“Why?” Cooper asked.
“We heard it was a very large group of teenagers from over in South Portland. Some clown down there claiming the plague is here to end the old world and that the youth must rise to build a new one.”
“Why Sellwood?”
“Not sure. Because it was close by? They just rioted after a speech given by this guy. Hundreds of them. Lots and lots of dead. They killed and burned without discretion,” emotion did not cloud his voice. It was if he was reporting the weather. “OK, we are here. It was nice talking to you gentlemen.”
They stood before a large door that looked to be made of solid oak. It was in the far back of the restaurant. Two more guards stood on either side of the door, armed with shotguns in their arms and pistols on their hips.
An elderly man and an attractive young woman, both Asian, were leaving. The man was bowing to everyone and grasping a tattered black hat in his gnarled hands. The woman was holding him by his shoulders, supporting him, as they shuffled by.
“Your turn, good luck,” their escort said to them as he pushed open the large door. It groaned on its hinges.
They stepped into the room that lay beyond. Michael Huynh sat at a massive desk of solid mahogany. The dark wood shined and they could smell the fresh oil that had been rubbed into it. The legs were carved in the shape of dragons and the feet were large claws. Huynh had his jet black hair pulled back into a ponytail and he wore a finely-tailored black suit, with a white silk shirt, and a blood red tie, also made of silk. He fingered an unlit cigar in his left hand and twirled a thin, gleaming knife with his right. The desk was clear of any objects, save a nickel-plated 1911-style pistol that lay within easy reach.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen. You come to me on the word of my cousin Joseph Vang?”
Two large-framed guards stood on either side of the desk. They were attired in suits, with submachine guns resting on a sling across their chests.
Cooper took a step forward and chose his words carefully, “Yes, sir. He said you have trained staff to provide protection.”
“Why, yes. Yes, I do. For a small fee of course,” a wide grin spread across his face, revealing a small scar that dipped from the left corner of his mouth towards the side of his jaw line.
Cooper clenched his jaw, “And what would the fee be?”
A knife was laid upon the table and Huynh slowly, methodically retrieved a butane lighter from a breast pocket. This guy knows his theatrics. A bright blue flame spat from the lighter and a puff of smoke drifted from the red circle on the end of the cigar as he lit it.
“Mmmm, that is good. You like Cuban?”
“Of course,” Cooper responded.
“The complexity of the tobacco is like none other.” Cooper endured the staged silence. He refused to shift on his feet, despite the inclination. He knew something of negotiation tactics from his father’s days of standing up for the rights of the common man.
A few puffs later, Huynh spoke again, “Where were we? Oh yes, the bothersome business of the costs for services rendered. As I said, it would depend on how many men you want and in what currency you will be paying.”
Cooper cocked an eyebrow, “Currency?”
“Why yes. In times like these, Mr. Adams, the forms of currency multiply. Unlike some, I still accept the US dollar. Unlike others, I think we will bounce back from the current challenges facing us as a nation. But, I accept other forms of payment as well.”
“Such as?”
“Some are paying me in gold, some in jewelry, and a few are paying me in commodities I can use in my other lines of business,” he said in between blowing smoke rings toward the ceiling. Drugs and women, Cooper guessed.
“We would be paying in dollars.”
“How many men?”
“Do they come armed with automatic weapons?”
“They could.”
Cooper thought for a moment, “We would need four.”
Huynh took a long pause, “Four men. Automatic weapons. That would be $20,000 per week.”
Cooper let loose a false cough and then paused a long moment, “With all due respect, that would be very challenging for us to come up with.”
Recognizing the negotiation, Huynh’s smile returned, “Come now, Mr. Adams. Do not take me for some simpleton. I know the neighborhood you live in. You will have the money if you value your safety and are willing to pay for it.”
“The challenge is gathering the cash. My neighbors use banks to keep their money and do not have large sums of cash on hand.”
“I like you, Mr. Adams. I will tell you what I will do for you. I’ll accept $10,000 in cash and a promise from those in your neighborhood for another $15,000 when the crisis abates and the banks reopen.”
Cooper retained a straight face, but smiled inside, “That should be more doable. My other difficulty will be convincing my neighbors that this sum is legitimate for only four men. While I can see the value of your men, my neighbors who do not understand security will be more challenging to convince.”
Huynh’s smile faded and he deliberately clipped his words, “Alright, I can add two men.”
“Thank you. That will make my task of convincing easier.”
“Surely. We are here to help one another, after all. The extra two men will carry shotguns only.”
Taking care to be overly polite, Cooper smiled and nodded, “Of course. I would not expect more than that.” Translation: he will send two untrained expendables with shotguns.
“I will take your generous offer before our neighborhood tonight. I can let you know soon whether we will move forward with your protection.”
“Good enough. But do not delay in making your decision. I have many requests for protection and a limited number of men I can deploy.”
“Of course. Thank you for your time, Mr. Huynh.”
Huynh responded by turning the large leather chair he sat in to face outwards towards the windows.
Cooper and Dranko retreated from the room. Their escort led them back to the parking lot. This time he was silent. I wonder if the Sellwood story is even true? Maybe it was all to heighten our fear of random violence before we met with Mr. Huynh?
As promised, their pickup and weapons were undisturbed. Cooper and Dranko piled back into it and steered towards home.