A Matter Of Respect Ch. 12

Julia returned to the office a few minutes later. She sat down on the couch with a blissful smile and a sigh. I was sitting behind my desk trying to make some sense of what Vetka told me. All the facts were there. It was just an incredible thing to believe. Julia looked as if she had been hit with a tranquilizer gun. She met my gaze with a drowsy grin. Her hair was spilling over her shoulder in a soft blonde waterfall.

"You with me young lady?" I asked her playfully. 

"Oh my God. Why did you do that?"  She asked in return.

"Honey, people have this bad habit of meeting me and thinking I'm all nice. I'm not." I replied bluntly. 

"That was the fastest orgasm I have ever had. If that's not nice then I don't know what in hell is." She responded quickly. "How did you know I would like that? You didn't think I would run screaming?"

I just shrugged my shoulders then tapped the side of my head with my index finger. 

"I pay attention honey." I told her. "Besides, do you think I would have let you run very far?"

"I see your point." She said, shuddering and involuntarily gripping the hem of her skirt. I saw a brief flash of her sex as she tugged at the hem. "I've made it a mental note not to ever fuck with you. Ever." 

"Very good honey. Now. I need your attention. I need you to take dictation while we talk this out. I have to act on this, and soon. I need an objective opinion on everything I tell you, since I don't know Vetka or Finch very well."

"Yes sir." She said. "You have my complete attention."

I took a pen and a clean legal pad out of my desk and pushed it over to her. She pulled a chair over to my desk and took the pen and pad. She looked at me for a moment, studying me. 

"Do you still have the screamer in your purse? I asked her.

"Yes sir."

"Good. Go get it." I told her. 

She stood then walked into her office. She returned with the screamer in hand and sat back down. 

"Have you used it yet?" I asked.

"No. I didn't know what would happen when I did." She answered.

"Hit the button." I said. 

She pressed the button. Nothing happened. She looked at me pensively. 

"That's good." I told her. "That means no one is listening in. Be sure to keep that thing close at hand." 

"Is Vetka's situation with Finch that serious? It is, isn't it?" She asked. 

"Yes it is. Start writing." I said. "Vetka was brought over here by Finch on the premise of marrying a rich socialite. Finch contacted her though a dating service she was listed with. He arranged for her to come here, passport, citizenship and all. No telling who he went through to do that." 

"Then what happened?" 

"Apparently the guy Finch had her lined up with was a real bastard. Finch arranged for Vetka to arrive all primped and preened. She was to be a trophy bride for some rich scum bag banker's boy. Vetka told me her new husband was an animal. He beat her. She was afraid and didn't know anyone. She went to Finch for help. Finch gave her the same treatment, then tried forcing her to sleep with him. From what I gather he got her the job here to keep tabs on her. She's too afraid to tell Graham about it." 

"When did she tell you all this?" Julia asked as she wrote. 

"Earlier today. I sent Finch on a little field trip." I said. " It seems Vetka's hot shot American husband was displeased with his new mail order Russian bride. He went to Finch and demanded his money back."  

"And?" 

"Shortly thereafter he assumed room temperature." I responded flatly.

"He did what?" Julia asked.

"He died. Very suddenly I might add. Not a word was said about it, outside Vetka and Finch that is. If what Vetka told me is true, I won't find an obituary anywhere for him either." 

"Finch had him killed?" 

"No. Finch killed him, himself. Apparently the little shit has some connections. Enough in fact to cover his tracks." I said. "But thats okay sugar, the old man here has some connections, too."

"Why did Vetka come to you now about all of this? Is she afraid for her life?" 

"Not hers." I replied. " Worse."

"Worse? How?" 

"Vetka has a three year old son. When she first met Finch through the online dating service, he promised residency for her then her son. Somehow he had her convinced he couldn't bring them both here at the same time."

"And what he was actually doing was keeping them apart so he could use the boy as leverage against her if she didn't cooperate." Julia finished for me. 

"And as we speak he has Vetka hanging by a thread. He has threatened to make her son disappear like her new American husband if she doesn't cooperate." 

"But Nails why doesn't she just go to the police? The FBI, the INS. Somebody?" Julia pleaded.

"It's difficult to explain Julia. I believe Finch selected Vetka because of where she is from. She's from a small village. People in many parts of Russia distrust any form of government or control. Especially the women. Many of them are taught from an early age to fear any kind of establishment. For many of those women like Vetka, meeting a rich American husband who can whisk them away from cold Mother Russia seems like a dream come true. They apply to these online dating services by the thousands. Finch wanted an ignorant scared woman he could mislead and sell off easily. He wasn't anticipating Vetka having a backbone."

"So she came to you to protect her son?" 

"That, and something else. I believe it is mostly for her son's benefit. Vetka has been keeping tabs on Finch. She found something that made her decide to ask for help. She is in a desperate situation Julia."

"What did she find?" Julia demanded. 

"Finch has ordered two more mail order brides from the land of vodka and potatoes. He's developing his own little white slavery trade. Financed in part by money embezzled from this company. No telling where else he is getting his money from." I explained. " That also means that Vetka may be in serious jeapordy, as well as her son."

"What are you going to do about all this Nails?" 

"Well, as a friend of mine back at the city used to say, you can't make an omelet without breaking a few legs." I replied. 

"Don't you mean eggs?" 

"No. I don't. I'm going to compile a list of names and email addresses. Send all the information you've taken down here along with all of Finch and Vetka's vital stats to the people on the list I give you. It will be in your email in ten minutes."

"Nails what are you going to do?" She asked. "And what will Vetka do?"

"You and her are spending the night on the old plantation. She won't like the idea, but I will insist. Be there as soon as you can after work. Tell her to bring enough clothes for a few days."

"And just how are you going to keep Finch from knowing all this is going on?"

"Trust me young lady. Before this day is over with, I'm going to break him up from sucking eggs." 

"Break him up from what?" She asked.

"Sorry." I said, smiling. "It's an old south expression. Let's just say I'm going to make the boy change his evil ways."

"I'm worried Nails. I really am." 

"Julia if I tell you everything is going to be alright for Vetka, will you believe me?" 

"Yes sir." She responded solemnly. 

"Good. Get to work."

I spent the next few minutes making an email listing of some good friends of mine back home. I sent them to Julia in an email then called the hospital to speak to Ms. Merch. She sounded much better than I expected. She told me she was being discharged soon. 

"Good." I told her. "Ms. Merchenal have you ever taken a ride in a big ol' fancy Hummer?' I asked, a smile behind my words. 

"My word, no." She replied.

"Well you're about to. You say the word and Mr. Finch will pick you up and give you a ride home."

"Nails I don't want to inconvenience the man." 
	
"That's ok ma'am. I do. Bye hon." 

I sat there laughing a little under my breath. I was killing that boy by making a good Samaritan out of him. It also occurred to me that I should have another heart to heart with him before the day was out. I thought it would be a good idea to see him once he was back in his office. I was certain he wouldn't want Vetka around while I was standing on his toes. That would give her the perfect opportunity to put some much needed room between Finch and herself. And he would be none the wiser. 

I called his cell phone, and to my surprise he answered on the first ring. His voice was very hyper and happy sounding. I told him I needed to see him concerning the parking lot detail as soon as he returned from lunch with the girls. I was expecting his usual arrogant whine. Instead he quipped 'Cool' in response and hung up. 

"I should be back in twenty minutes or so Sir." He told me. 

Now that didn't sound right, now did it?

I waited a half hour then walked to his office. Just as I expected Vetka was nowhere to be seen. No doubt he had sent her on some menial task to keep her out of earshot while I was there. I knocked on his door, and a voice answered 'Come in' from inside. I opened the door to see Finch sitting behind his desk. He was busily putting things away. I noticed he was tucking  a twenty dollar bill into his jacket pocket. 

"Is this a bad time?" I asked him. 

"No. No. Not at all!" He chirped in reply. "No better time than the present. Sit, please." 

He was being much too nice. He was up to something, I just had to carefully figure out what. I settled into a chair adjacent from his desk and looked the kid over. He was very animated. He would move smoothly like normal, then his movements would be sudden and jerky. He looked like a long tail cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He pointed out his many certificates and plaques to me, which I admit he had quite a few. As he would point his hand would flow from one framed document to the next, then jerk a bit. I could tell her was hyped up on something. 

I noticed a faint ring of white around one nostril. So he had enjoyed a little nose candy on his ride back from lunch. I couldn't help but smile. After the henpecking he probably had to endure, there was no doubt in my mind he needed it. Did I ever mention that I'm a total bastard? Now I've been around people who were coked up before, but he was displaying a number of symptoms. Either he was almost coked out of his mind, or he was on something else along with cocaine. I waited for him to finish his rambling then pegged him with a smile. 

"That's all very impressive Mista Finch. I'm glad you're on my team." I told him. 

"So am I Mista Nails." he responded. "So am I."

"Well, seeing as we are both on the same page, let's get down to business. I want to know how you plan on canvassing the parking deck. Any ideas or plans so far?"

"Don't you worry about that Nails. I'm ready to deal with those poor people." He replied.

"Poor people?" I asked angrily. 

I don't know if that was intended to piss me off or not, but I had the sneaking suspicion it was. 

"Explain to me what you mean by poor people Mista Finch." I urged.

"Oh come on Nails. You know. Niggers, down and out drunks. Old hungry jews. Spicks, illegal aliens. We both knows those poor people steal all the time. And it just breaks my little heart to think of one of those dirty poor people hurting a sweet little old lady like Ms.Merchenal. "

I knew it. He was being too nice for a reason. Whatever he was taking along with his caine was pumping his ego up something fierce. He was trying to piss me off, and oh brother did he ever. I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of getting the better of me. You see, it's quite a unique experience, growing up a white male in the south. Too often people hear my accent and immediately label me a cross burner or a Jew hater. It's as if by default there's some fucked up southern double standard that applies to white men from the south. It's one of the most small minded cheap shots you can take at a man. And it pisses me off quicker than just about anything. I don't mind telling you, my mama gave all of us the ultimate weapon against racism and hate: 

She taught us the difference between right and wrong.

 I may be alot of things, but I'm no racist. When people slap that label on me, I can feel my blood boil in a split second. Racism is the most ignorant, blind form of unfeeling hate I have ever known. I guess he could see it in my eyes, so he kept on talking.

"Truth be known Mista Nails, there are days when I'm tempted to join the New Aryan Army just because of these scummy poor people I see on the street. They don't work, don't pay taxes, don't do a damn thing but breed more welfare children. Why? because they're poor. It's enough to make a man march down the street screaming Sig Heil! Ain't it Mista Nails? What do you think about it?" 

I could feel my hackles rising. My hands were suddenly aching to grab him by the neck and snap him in two like a twig. As hard as it was, I managed to say something in return without losing my cool. 

"What do I think about it Finch? Well number one, I think you're trying as hard as you can to make me hate you. And I'm telling you right now, you're going to have to try a helluva lot harder kid. And furthermore, I'm somewhat of an authority on poor people. My mother raised all ten of us by herself. She never accepted a penny in state welfare or handouts. She used to take us to this little place called Euphaupee creek. It was a little creek in Macon county with red clay banks on either side. She would take us out there in the middle of nowhere so we could all play and not be bothered. Before she would let us in the water she would wade across and check the clay banks, to make sure there wasn't any rocks or sharp sticks sticking out of the clay. Then once she made it back to the other side she would let us run loose. We'd all be climbing up those red clay banks and sliding back down by the two's and three's. When we were finished we were all red from head to toe, but dammit we were happy, and so was she. It was just a piss poor little creek in the middle of no man's land Alabama, but it was more than that to her. It was place where we weren't ridiculed for having so little. It didn't bother all my sisters that none of them had designer clothes or hair styles that came from the mall. It didn't matter to me that I was wearing cheap open toed Roman sandals instead of the high dollar sneakers all the other boys had. Most of all it was place where my mama could deal with our poverty with some dignity Mista Finch. We lived in such harsh poverty at times that we had to share bathwater heated over a wood stove. My mama made sure we never went without anything we needed, so even though we didn't have a red cent to our names, we weren't poor at all Mista Finch. So I know all about poor people, kid. And the truth is you're just about the poorest soul I've ever laid eyes on."

I was breathing hard by the time I finished. Finch had that shit eating grin on his face again, and seeing it made me want to throttle him. I never thought the kid would get the better of me, but dammit he did. That's fine by me, you see. I may not always win, but I choose my battles well. He will regret that smile, mark my word. 

"Be at the parking deck on time tomorrow." I told him. "I expect you to have one bullet in your sidearm and your cell phone fully charged. I want a notation for every company employee you lay eyes on. What they drive, where they park, which elevator they take inside. If I hear of you displaying an ounce of your childish macho bullshit I'm going to drive my boot so far up your ass you'll be tasting shoe leather. Any questions?"

"No Sir." Finch said with that damned smile.

"I'll see you in the morning." I told him, then turned to leave. 

As I was closing his office door I heard his voice behind me.

"Sig Heil Mista Nails." He spoke, laughing. "Sig Heil."

Fade To Black