She hoped for no nightmares.
The city seemed busy enough. People were darting around—making stops at grocery stores and arguing. Everyone kept staring overhead at the grey, ceaseless sky. Fantine ignored it and kept moving. She imagined there’d be a lot of angry commuters come Tuesday morning when things fizzled out. Still, better to be prepared than sorry. It was worth her time to snatch up some light provisions.
A few blocks from the clinic, Fantine managed to find a Mom & Pop store that was stocked with light provisions—water, batteries, flashlights—but packed enough to allow her unfettered shoplifting. Things went so well, she nearly walked out of the place with a shopping basket, but opted to get everything into her extra backpack. She kept it light—Jae would need to carry this one. That was wishful thinking, but it helped dull that shadow lingering behind her. It was so easy to doubt her own skills and she wondered if her mother had felt like that—if before a job, she’d be fighting against thoughts of being caught, of ruining everything for her loved ones, or of losing her life over something so dumb as a cheap thrill and a big payday.
She should have told Aleksei to fuck himself. Pete would be okay. Her father would too. She could have found a way to run, to get them someplace safe. Only now, with hindsight on her side, could she see that Aleksei was a completely hollow threat.
Fantine ran through all those should-haves while she called her job and left messages on her phone, her boss’ phone, and his boss’ phone. There’d be no risks. If a person ever associated with her, they got a voicemail. In the worst-case scenario, someone would get caught for what they did to her and her father. Best case: she’d be long gone before anyone found her. There were plenty of other outcomes—including a long stay in a cold cell—but Fantine wasn’t going to allow Placido to get away with any of this. She owed Pete that much, even if she couldn’t properly grieve him.
The Twins. Fantine closed her eyes and rested on the third payphone in as many blocks that she used to leave messages—this time her father’s nursing home. She thought she’d see their bodies every time she closed her eyes, but she found the details gone already—just like with Pete. The bullets were fired, the bodies bled, and the breathing stopped. That much she remembered, but what they wore or whether they even said anything before their impromptu lead ventilation was long gone. She swore Mr. Brown—or was it Mr. Black—said something. There was noise, but no form to it. What she’d done to Aleksei was also murky—it felt like it was weeks ago. She left him alive—a final insurance plan. If everything else went tits up, she figured maybe his need for vengeance would lead him to Placido. Were there Hail Mary saves in life? Today, Fantine found herself hoping more than anything there could be. It would probably be smarter for her to walk over to a precinct and confess her sins in person. They’d arrest her and go save her father. Then again, Placido may have already had the reach to end her in the precinct and make sure her father never saw the light of day again.
When all her calls were made, Fantine made one last check of her bags. Snuck a peek at the gun in her inside jacket pocket. She kept that pen knife under her bra strap on her back. The Taser was in her bag, but she couldn’t figure out how it would be of any use to her. Placido’s stud farm had plenty of employees milling around. If she had to make a move, the gun was her best bet. Hopefully, Jae would keep up with her. The poor old bastard. She almost laughed imagining how loud he would complain when she stuck him on a bus to who-knew-where. This was done for love, though. He’d understand. Fantine wouldn’t have to explain it—he would know. Jae was a good father. She owed it to him to at the very least to pull his ass form the fire she’d lit.
There was no way she’d be leaving that place without him and if she had to add a few more notches to her belt, so be it. She’d save trying to live with herself for another day.
14
It was almost nine p.m. when Fantine finally arrived at the clinic. She couldn’t control the New York City subway and she was relying—heavily—on Placido’s general sense of honor to preserve her father’s life. They hadn’t set a predetermined time and she assumed that Placido had to understand that as far as normal New Yorkers saw it; the sky was in the process of falling. Besides, he wouldn’t let her wander around without a tail. If Aleksei kept the Twins on her ass—and he was about as well put together as a two-legged dog—then a man with an operation on this scale would as well.
The streets were nearly empty aside from the stragglers racing to get home with all the bread, eggs, and milk they could find. Apparently, French toast would be the hot commodity when the apocalypse finally happened. Fantine walked behind a couple with Trader Joe’s bags as they argued over whether it was wise to buy the tandoori chicken that was a day ahead of its expiration date. The temptation to pull the gun from her jacket was almost too much to bear. Fortunately, she wasn’t a remorseless killer just yet and the couple turned the corner to continue their conversation down the street.
The wind was picking up and the rain was coming down hard. Fantine jogged up the stairs and saw the lights of the clinic were off. She tried to open the doors, but they were locked. Not that locked doors would be much of a problem. It took less than thirty seconds—she counted—to open the lock and enter the clinic. If the downstairs set up was anything to go by, she assumed a silent alarm notified everyone there was an intruder. The lack of light made it feel more comfortable. It looked almost lived in, not so cold and distant like when the fluorescent lights were on.
“You set an alarm off. Not a very good thief.” Placido stood by the doors leading into the rooms where young, desperate men would normally be staring at a screen and trying not to stare into the abyss that was masturbating into a cup for money. “You could have knocked. We were waiting.”
She stood her ground. Hands in pockets. Assumptions confirmed. “I’ve got half of what you requested with me. The rest will be sent to you once I can walk out of here with my father.” It was a bluff. She had everything. If Placido called her bluff, she’d hand everything over. If not, then she could potentially make some extra money. That line of thinking came so naturally it scared Fantine.
Placido watched her a moment. “Do you expect me to bring him up here, or were you going to get him yourself?”
Something wasn’t right. Fantine wrapped her hand over her pistol’s grip. Too late. Someone grabbed her from behind—the Tail. Yanked her arm behind her and rifled through her pockets. They got the gun, but didn’t bother to look around for more. She had no idea if or how she could use it, but at least she still had her pen knife tucked away under her bra strap. There was a pang of regret at leaving the Taser in her bag. The physical violence was still new to her, but she figured she wouldn’t have won the fight even if she had it on her. At least she was right about Placido having someone follow her. While slightly proud of herself for figuring out Placido’s plan of action, it was an incredibly hollow win as she was still in no way prepared to deal with this extra threat to her life.
Placido approached her, a broad smile on his face. “We both know this ends on my terms, Miss Park.” He turned and motioned to her captor. “Bring her along. We’ll…discuss what’s next downstairs.”