Makarovia! Yes, I Know Where That is! Sophomore Year - 71. Big Friends: Part Two

Big Friends

Part Two

I was excited to once again see our friends. We knew how to get there and what was possible if we did. Communication wasn't hard, but it was in the air. I mean, the signals were out there and the more we did, the more they had to possibly crack and find out where we were planning to be and with whom.

The cloak and dagger life lost its pizazz damned quick. It was better in movies and television. There was nothing we could do but keep ourselves and others safe. We had a right to have a life, just like everyone else.

Our agents came back just before dinner time. I know I shared a lot about some essentials. A very important one is about what we are and what we do. We were social creatures and never functioned well alone. Necessities like shelter and food are must haves to stay alive. We evolved to have more than caves and something to satisfy our hunger. Now we were living comfortably, warm and secure. Food no longer just kept us alive. We learned that adding plant items made what we consumed even better. My describing where we had that shelter and delicious meals spoke of how far we've come as a species. There are other animals that appreciate being warm when it's cold. Do these same animals create what they eat or just consume rapidly to stop hunger? There are minds out in the world that say it is cooking that made us human. Theories about homo-erectus rose to what we became by not just eating things raw, but eating meats helped our brains expand and freed us from foraging. The discovery of fire and its usage helped us to learn to prepare what we consume.

Yes, this “lecture” about the science of what we are may be interesting, but not what you want to know about. This wasn't really a sidebar, but an explanation of the meals' elaborate description. I want to share it with you. You're at the table.

Our agents, who were now friends, fit easily into a close group of men. Laughing and teasing each other just happened with friends.

Again, we got to the large table in the dining area on time. We had been well trained. I was a bit surprised by the number of utensils and glasses set out. I noticed Marcea's unease as he looked at the table.

Henri rolled the cart out and looked at us. “I've taken you through a gastronomic tour of the world; Italy, Greece and even Korean. Tonight, we have service à la russe.”

I understood that even without my high school French class: Service in Russian style.

“We have so many Russians on the Duchess, I felt I had to,” Henri simply said. Henri removed the cover and showed Deviled Eggs...sort of.

Yuri smiled at them. “Russian Eggs!”

I frowned. “Russian Eggs? They look like Deviled Eggs.”

Henri gave a slow, wobbling nod. “Emmm, well, yes...” He said grudgingly as he placed a small dish with four artistically arranged on them before each of us. “They can be. In Hungary they are stuffed eggs and so does Romania, Sweden, the Netherlands...many countries.” He shrugged. “It's more than hard-boiled egg yokes mixed with mayonnaise and mustard. There is saffron, horseradish and capers.” He grinned at me. “I'm sure you know what the little dark things on top are.”

“Caviar,” Peter answered for me.

I put my hand on Peter's arm. “He certainly knows what they are.”

Mercea looked up. “I thought we had our fancy meal already.”

“Every meal shouldn't just be to satisfy hunger,” Henri stated.

Mercea was frustrated. “Which...” he waved at his place setting, “whatever we use, what do I start with?” He slumped as he whined. “I know I messed up last time.”

Peter shook his head. “I don't remember that.”

I nodded with a light chuckle. “Eating like this, just start on the outside and work your way in.” I laughed a little more. “Here's a little more wisdom from the Sams.”

“Katrina?” Yuri smiled and asked.

“Nope,” I dismissed with a smile. “Grandpa this time. He said that at the end of a meal if you make a mess; that isn't proper.”

Peter jutted his head at Mikell who sat by Mercea. “Just follow him.”

Mikell shook his head at Mercea, “Then I suggest you follow Peter. He's the one I follow.”

“I always wondered who made all the rules on how to eat?” Alec asked.

Henri pointed to the wall and outside. “They did,” He smiled. “Greece documented proper dining etiquette first.”

“No more gnawing on that animal bone by the fire you cooked it with.” I stated.

Cosmo shrugged. “That makes sense that the birthplace of civilization would set rules to eat to be civilized.”

“I've seen some that seem to revert easily.” Peter folded his napkin and put it in his lap. He never considered what he did. Apparently, Mom drilled in his head so much as a child; he just did it.

The eggs were excellent and I didn't care who created this dish. Chickens were nearly worldwide so everyone had eggs. It could be from anyone. No, they weren't what I had on Holidays in the United States. Grandpa wasn't bothered at someone who thought anything he did was or wasn’t improper. If what you used got the job done. Who cared?

The next pleasing dish was Ukha. It is a thick, sour and spicy soup. It was definitely undeniably Russian. When the other countries became part of the Soviet Union the soup spread to all of them.

Next was a Solyanka. A puff pastry made with blue whiting. Whiting is a kind of codfish. Blue whiting was not really blue. It did have a little blue when light reflected off the scales. I don't know. It’s just what they're called.

Salads next followed by desert. We had Ptichye Moloko. In English that's Bird's Milk. That's is a light sponge cake layer between two layers of milk soufflé. The whole thing was covered by a glaze of thin chocolate.

Oladye with smetana. That is these small pancakes-like things about the size of the palm of the hand; and sour cream. The Oladye is not sweet. Grandma made them for me for a quick breakfast. When they cooled, you could eat them by hand. They were light and tender with a creamy taste and feel. The smertana made it richer tasting. It was very popular in Russia. The reason for having this as the final course is simple, Russians love their sweet foods. Cakes, pies and cookies were loved, but they didn't like the taste in your mouth shortly after that sweet taste. There were thousands made every day. Perhaps, millions.

This wasn't our last meal on the Duchess. When we returned to the Duchess we would cast off for the last of this journey. Back through the Corinth Canal, up past Corfu and past Montenegro and entering the port near Venice. That was hundreds of miles. It was so close to a thousand miles that's what say a thousand miles on the water. If things went well we should be in Venice the next morning. Not the next meal, but breakfast the day after.

Peter pushed back from his plate with a contented sigh and rubbed his now full belly. “Wonderful as always.”

“We have to start working out regularly again,” I agreed. “But not tonight,” I said with finality. “We're still on our honeymoon.”

I wasn't a masochist. I don't enjoy giving or receiving pain. Once again, I'll share some of the Sams abundance of wisdom.

The pain I felt now I did like pain, but Grandpa said to welcome that feeling for its meaning for me. Something very important was changing or going away. I was going to feel it.

From the main deck where we depart together Yuri looked at what Boris had insisted on him wearing. Flapping his arms as if he was imitating a bird. It happened again with me. I was surprised when I saw Yuri. He was dressed like he was on vacation. Because he was! He wore this yellow shirt that fit loosely. I don't think pastels are appealing. It didn't appeal to either of them either. No hair gel, but his hair was looking strategically disarrayed. That made the years he had lived through just melted away. He had suffered from the same problem as Peter had; a lack of sunshine even in the United States. He went out, to escort us to class or talk to our guards. That’s it.

“Yuri!” I said looking him over. “I love the color!”

Yuri grimaced and pulled the shirt out to see it again. “Yeah, Boris said that, too. There’s just so much of it. I feel like a caution sign. It's so yellow!”

I chuckled knowing what would think I was talking about. “Boris told the truth, but I wasn't talking about the shirt. You are a very handsome man. The tan and non-regulation hair make that more noticeable.” I said walking around Yuri. “If I didn't love Peter and you didn't have Boris, I'd love to date you.”

Yuri began to blush, “No, I'm..”

I hurried on quickly interrupted, “In the past,” I said coming up next to him. “What would happen to someone called a royal family member a liar?”

Yuri chuckled and shook his head, “Anything from being thrown in the dungeon, given the rack or even executed; depending on the royal family member that was offended and the subject of the lie.”

I nodded, “Consider how I will react to what you're about to say.”

Yuri rolled his eyes, “Thank you for compliment and saying you think I am.”

I hugged Yuri. “No one can deny the evidence.” I placed my forehead to Yuri's. “But don't forget; if Peter and Boris weren't around because we love them, we wouldn't even be acquaintances.” I waved at the heavens. “I believe it was destiny.” I stated grandly. “God ordained and just meant to happen!” I pulled back a little. “Any tan lines?”

“None,” Yuri replied. “Do you?”

I raised a finger as I pointed at nothing really, but a roaming thought. “I don't have a problem with going to the beach nude, but...” I thought how to explain it, “If we all did it: no problem. If they were perfect strangers; no problem. It's that in between that caused difficulty.”

Yuri nodded with a grin. “So, that means there are.”

“Please tell me we're interrupting something.” Peter grumbled lightly as he and Mikell came up the stairs from below. He wasn't really jealous of Yuri.

“Sure,” I said back. “You're interrupting something.” I wasn't letting Yuri go. “I was telling him I love the color. He thought I meant his shirt.” I gave a wobbling shrug and said. “I sort of led to that.” I held Yuri's arms out. “I think he looks great! Do you have a Casual Friday?” What I said was “U vas vypadkova pʺyatnytsya?” It was a direct English to Makarovian translation. That didn't always translate well; nouns, verbs and adjectives switch and words change from one to another, it sometimes doesn't fit right at first. Just like Peter didn't get the word green’s environmental meaning when I said it.

Peter suddenly caught up. “Oh, right,” he looked at Mikell. “In the West they have a day where they don't dress for business.” He nodded. “That's a Casual Friday.”

Mikell listened and understood more and shook his head, “Why?”

“To be more comfortable,” I said simply with a shrug. I waved at his clothes. “Just like you.” Jeans, t-shirt and athletic shoes he had wass fine. “Do you feel better in this or that suit?”

Mikell smiled, “You instructed us to blend in.”

My left eye narrowed, “Answer the question.” I growled softly.

Mikell wasn't scared of me at all. “This way, but I don't feel like I'm on duty.”

I nodded, “Everyone doesn't have to do it.” Then threw my arms out. “Why are we discussing what we don't even do now?” I brought Yuri pulling by one shoulder in chummy, one-armed man hug. “I just said he had nice color! His shirt, too. I would like to see this version of Yuri more often; that's all. Geez.”

Boris came in when I was saying three portions of the sentences. “I agree with Eric.” He said simply. “That is a good color for Yuri.”

Boris was in a bright green shirt. Not greenish or hunter green. I mean kiss a leprechaun or at least someone Irish green. They didn't care for pastels either.

I smiled at him. “Boris!” I said happily and left Yuri and gave Boris a hug.

Mikell chuckled, “You love to hug.”

Peter nodded, “He does it least once a day for each; often more.”

I turned from Boris, but held on to him. “I was used to seeing them every single day. We've been a part for two weeks!! I missed them. A hug is so much more that even one hundred of the friendliest handshakes.” I wasn't offended or bothered. “I do it only for family or the closest friends. I love them.” I went over and hugged Mikell. “That now includes you!”

The distance from the marina was about a mile or a kilometer and a half. I watched Yuri as he scanned the area with his eyes. Then he looked at Mikell to try to see if Mikell could see what he did. Was this a test? I never saw them talking with Mikell that much and usually there was some smiles and laughter, but what do I know? Was he doing to Mikell was doing with Mercea? Looking to see how well Mikell ran things without Yuri's input?

That was a huge step for Yuri. The only person Yuri felt thought could do the task in security was Yuri. He was extending trust. Again in a loose group of male couples approached the Big's Bar.

The street light showed who was in front of Big's. I had sent Pano when to expect us and we were just a tad early. One of the men I recognized from his size. He was good looking, yes, but he was just big. He didn't smoke, but spoke with guys that did or just wanted to go somewhere quieter to talk than in the bar. He was fussing at another man who had finished his cigarette and had tossed it to the ground and stepped on it. I loved how I could see what he was saying by his actions. He wasn't angry, but annoyed as he pointed to the smashed butt and then pointed to two butt cans. That's what they called them in the military. However, his butt cans were both bright red instead of that dull military green.

Someone said something to Pano who turned to see us. Even if there wasn't a streetlight his face could probably be seen as it brightened. This time, he walked over to us and this large man hugged Peter. I saw that Mikell was completely relaxed. Yuri had a cautious face on, but was fine. I knew Yuri had training and size didn't always count for much, but Pano would make Yuri work to bring Pano down.

“Hi, guys!” Pano greeted us. “I'm thrilled you came back!”

“We'll be back whenever we can,” Peter grinned and turned to our agents. “I think you know all of them,” he pulled Yuri up. “This is Yuri and his husband Boris.” Peter motioned to Pano. “This is Pano. His husband Barry is inside?” Pano nodded.

“Long story much shorter,” I added. “These two worked so long and closely to Peter and me they became friends and are now considered family.”

Pano stuck his hand out to a Yuri whose eyes were just a little wider than normal. Yuri was looking at Pano from top to bottom and he the hand a few seconds later. He took Pano's large hand and shook it.

“Vau.” Boris said quietly.

Pano's eyebrows rose slightly hearing Boris, but turned to shake Boris' hand and said, “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

I smiled at Pano and quietly told him, “In Russian he said; wow.”

Pano chuckled with a nod. “I suspected as much.” He waved at the door of Big's. “Welcome back.”

Inside was low-keyed activity. It was just ten o'clock and no matter the country or culture; even in more liberal countries...clubs opened early, but the action happened after eleven.

Barry handed a drink to a customer and brightened. He came out of the bar's serving area and hugged us.

I looked around and saw a few regulars I knew were here. “Is Edger here?”

On cue a door to the bathroom opened. Pano just had one. It was big enough for eight people. All stalls for sitting to pee. The regulations for separate bathrooms didn't really hit Europe until women began to travel alone more. But here? It was open to the public and women were included in that public, but had to use the same bathroom as the men. I had only been twice before, but I never even saw a cross-dresser here.

Here's a little trivia. Yes, a sidebar again. There are over a billion people who refuse and consider it rude to eat with your left hand. Do you know why? I'll give you three guesses and the first two won't count. Using a public bathroom in Europe can be eye-opening. You thought a toilet was a toilet, right? Wrong. Many West European countries still use tanks high above the toilet and a pull string to flush. There are ones with two handles; one for rinsing away urine and another for when you leave more. That is to conserve water. England still had toilets you pumped. Toilet paper? Sometimes. Don't bother to look for the men's room or women's room. They don't really label those. At all. You check outside the restaurant or club to see a map of where they are. That had to be posted. You may not have cared much for this sidebar, but when you go there the first time and have to find one; remember what I told you.

Edger looked up and just like his sons, he brightened. “There they are!” He looked at his watch. “And almost late.”

Peter hugged the man. “Oh, no, a royal is never late and never hurries. We are delayed and hasten.”

“Good grief,” I said to Peter. “You're practically quoting Julie Andrews?”

Peter didn't look at me, because he did, “Maybe.”

Yuri shook his head. “Julie Andrews? Do you mean The Sound of Music's Julie Andrews?”

I nodded. “She portrayed a queen in the Princess Diaries and said almost that.” I pointed at Peter. “You are gay.”

Peter grinned, “You are, too. Otherwise you wouldn't know exactly which movie it was from.”

Introductions were done again for Boris and Yuri. We went back to the table by the back door. Our agents knew this place were more comfortable. They all looked like bar guests. There was the occasional touch by Mikell to his right ear and a quiet comment by Mikell. Our agents did a check of the surrounding area around Big. The perimeter was checked every thirty minutes by a different pair of agents. Yuri's approval was given as he relaxed. Edger was his usual, not a bit worried about anything self. I don't think he'd be uncomfortable in the company of anyone.

“...and my son tells me I needed to meet someone,” he waved at us. “And there they are.” He had all of us laughing.

Pano came over and put a familiar little glass in front of his father.

Edger raised his glass. “Anyone want to try again?” He looked at Peter and me, “or the first time?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Boris and Yuri. “It's easier the second time.”

I don't know if it was the old Russian superiority or not, but Yuri nodded. “Sure.”

“It’s Ouzo, Yuri.” I told him.

“I've had it twice,” Yuri nodded.

“None for me,” Boris stated. “Just smelling it I know burnt some nose hairs.”

Peter was suddenly nodding. “Yes! I know what you're saying.”

“Peter claimed he could taste it with his nose.” I said.

Boris was nodding now, “You could!”

No one was drunk. Hell, I don't think anyone was even tipsy. That feeling right before being tipsy? Loose? Inhibitions were reduced and conversation flowed.

“Why not?” Peter asked everyone at an around our table. His eyes almost sparkled. “Let's see if I got this one right. We done fell in the creek,” he shook his head, “no, we done fell in the crick; might as well swim around.” Boris, Yuri and our agents looked totally lost. Barry, Pano and Edger were even laughing. I guess a decade or more in Canada was enough to have heard it enough to understand.

“That was great!” I shook Peter lightly.

“What language? It kind of sounded like English.” Yuri said.

I nodded, “It was, kind of.”

“I'm learning Southern English.” Peter smiled. He looked at Pano, but glanced at Boris. “Are you sure, Boris?”

“Positive,” Boris said.

“Three more, please.” Peter asked.

Barry and Pano came over with the Ouzo. There were others that had been here before and they were moving so they could see again.

Edger held up his little glass. “I know you Westerners from North America think slapping one back is the way to go.” He looked at us. “If you did that, it hurt a lot.” He pointed at us. “Don't.” He held his glass up and drank a little bit and made a grimace when he swallowed. “A little bit coats the throat.” He took another sip. No grimace.

“That doesn't make the pain last longer?” Peter asked.

I chuckled. “He's a primin' the pump!”

Even Peter who was working as his mind sought the possible match.

“I'll tell you later,” I promised, “but first. Ouzo Edger's way.”

The difference was felt immediately. The first little sip did hurt. A little. It was a little sip. I grimaced too as it went down my throat. I drank a little more. That one hurt less. I took a larger third which didn't hurt at all.

“You're right!” Peter nodded putting his half empty glass down.

“The idea of a quick swallow was flawed.” I reasoned. “Too much, too quick.”

The entire bar raised what they had to drink and shouted, “Opa!”

I was already loving Greece. I looked at Peter who was very relaxed. So were Yuri and Boris. This was now my favorite bar and then the Grotto. Jocks didn’t count due to the number of security needed and we never went now.

Mikell turned suddenly and held his hand over his ear to hear better. “Skil'ky?” He asked how many in Makarovian. “Zadovho do to ho, yak vony potraplat' syudy?” How long would it take to get here?

Mikell stood and snapped his fingers at the agents and us to get our attention.

“Three men are coming this way. They'll be here in five minutes.” He said to Pano and Barry.

Pano looked at his friends and customers, “Méri! Aftó den eínai trypáni.”

The bar was a beehive of guys moving quickly around. They had rehearsed this? “These men coming are suspicious.” Pano grabbed Peter's and my arms and was moving us quickly. Though a door he shoved us in a dark office and held his finger to his lips shushing us. He shut the door and I heard a bolt slide securing us in. “Just move the picture at the left side of the door. There's a glass window that will let you see, but will not be seen.”

He hurried back to our table where two of the men I knew the last time here were now seated.

I need this sidebar for you to understand what I'm going to say. Those who understand racism knows what it's like. It's everywhere. Greece and Italy were more the same than they might want to admit. When the three men entered the bar some of the men had begun making out, some were even dancing. If they were gay or didn't care there would be no reaction. If they were straight it might make them uncomfortable and they would leave.

I was expecting young men with cameras or something. These three didn't have cameras. They were African. That doesn't help much. Africa is a huge continent. Their skin was black. There are so many various types of “race” with Humans. I will be blunt. Greeks and Italians weren't white. They weren't. Not really. Greece was on the edge of the Middle East and Europe. Negros have been in Greece for many millenniums. Before they were used as slave labor for West Europe and the United States, Northern Europeans we considered savage; because we were. At one time, the Celts spread across much of Europe and up into the British Islands from the Northern tip of Ireland across France, Germany all the way to the Ukraine. My ancestors from Scotland and Ireland were thought of red-headed savages. We were often the slave labor for Italians and Greeks. The Moors came up from North Africa and blended mostly with the Southern Italians. Sicily and the lower portion of the Italian Boot. That didn't explian the olive complexion to me. What did I know? Mixing races wasn't like mixing colors of paint.

My original point was a dark skinned man was not unheard of in Greece. They walked into the bar and skimmed the crowd of men. To pigeonhole people because skin color was foolish. My judgement of them was based on behavior and their faces. They hadn't had a carefree life; any of the three. I could tell they had known no joy.

Pano finished washing a large beer stein and was wiping it dry. “Kalos IRTHATE! Ti boro na sou fero?” His voice didn't have usual happy tone.

One of the men smiled, but...he made it somehow threatening. How did you threaten with a smile? I could see him and still couldn't figure that out. “Three whiskies?” He slid what I had to guess was currency enough to cover that. “Please.” That word seemed to be foreign to the man and rarely used. The three were looking around again.

“Should we worry Mikell and the others?” Peter whispered.

I looked over as Mikell was again by Mercea and they spoke with Boris and Yuri. “No, they were never on camera.”

“Clearly,” Peter said. “They're pirates.”

I nodded, “More than likely. Advance scouts?” I theorized. “The Duchess' Automatic Identification System was jammed by Yuri. The Duchess should appear like all the other ships in the harbor. The fact we came to this bar last week.”

“She stopped us off the West Coast of Sicily,” Peter hissed a little. “How did she know we were coming here?”

“I don't think she did,” I said. I threw my hands out. “I don't know,” I said in a quiet wail and waved out the window at the three men. “We don't even know if they are here for her.”

Peter's eyebrows rose and he did the head back a little. “You're kidding.” He said in disbelief.

I snarled, “They're not exactly wearing a skull and crossbones.”

“Have you seen anyone like that in Greece?” Peter asked. “And I'm not talking about their color! Could imagine any of them kissing anyone?”

He was right. I said their faces showed no signs of joy. No scars on their bodies could be seen and they were not happy men.

“No,” I answered. “You can take a happy civilized man and get him to behave like a brutal savage. It's almost impossible for a brutal savage to behave like a civilized man. My point is, they could be any pirates. A band of competitor pirates to rival the beauty and beast pirate.”

“More pirates!?” Peter hissed again.

I held my finger up, “More criminals. When you say pirate, I think of the,” I switched to English because I didn't know the word, “swashbuckling pirates from the movies. These criminals don't have that kind of charm.”

It wasn't from how they dressed either. It was them. They radiated threat. The eyes were sharp and looked at everything and everyone. There was a very tall one. Tall like Peter or Mikell, Pano still towered over them. He was the one that ordered the whiskey. He had hair that was very short. To his left was a man that was bald. To his right was a man also bald, but had a beard mustache. The tall one also seemed to be in charge of the three.

Pano placed three shot glasses in front of them and poured the whiskey. “Ti sas férnei edó apópse? Den écho dei poté kanénan apó sas prin.”.

The man in the center looked at Pano. “I am afraid I don't speak Greek at all.” His accent was different than the European accented English. “I can speak Somali, Arabic as well as English.”

“We speak English here, too.” Pano said perfectly. “I asked what brings you Greece and haven't seen you here before.”

“Business,” the tall man replied.

Pano waved at some men who we kissing and toward the few dancing men. “I just wanted to be sure you knew what sort of bar this is.”

“If we aren't,” baldy to the left began gruffly. “Does that mean we can't drink?”

“That wasn't my meaning,” Pano shook his head. “I was being certain you were aware and wouldn't be surprised.”

If they were from where I suspected they were; if they had any religious background in would be Muslim. Most of the Muslims approved of us as much Christians did. Then again, these men probably broke many commandments in their lives.

All was calm a few minutes. Then the two on either side of tall man split up. It was supposed to be two men looking casually looking around the bar. One even came over to Boris, Yuri and Edger. Nothing was said, but they were looking carefully for something.

“What would they do if they found us?” Peter asked.

I wagged a nod a little, “I don't know. Call for reinforcements? I don't remember a memo on their plan of attack.”

In the dim light I saw Peter narrow an eye and shook a finger in my face, “It's a good thing we love each other,” Peter griped. “It was a rhetorical question.”

I nodded, “You know me,” I shrugged. “Anything left open, I can't resist.” I grinned and waved at the bar beyond the window. “I just can hardly believe all of Big's is helping us.”

“Yes,” Peter smiled. “And not all of them were here either night we were here before.”

“I don't want to endanger anyone,” I said.

Bearded and bald came to the door to the office and tried the doorknob. It was bolted and secure.

“Can I help you find something?” Pano asked with a tone that said Mr. Nice was gone.

“This isn't the bathroom?” Bearded and bald asked.

“No,” Pano pointed in the opposite direction. “That's over there and labeled in Greek and English that it is the bathroom.” Pano folded his big arms over his chest. “Please finish your drinks and leave.”

“You are making us leave?” The tall one asked.

Pano smiled and leaned over the bar toward tall man. “I am asking you to leave,” Pano clarified. “I will make you if I need to. This bar isn't for you.” Pano seemed to almost grow larger as he got closer to the tall man. “Do you have any doubt I can make you?”

Barry came up behind Pano. The other patrons at the bar who were friends as well as customers rose from their bar-stools ready to assist Pano.

Naturally Yuri, Mikell, Alec and Mercea rose to do the same. Cosmo and Rolph were outside.

Were these criminals armed? I didn't want to find out.

“This,” Pano waved around him, “is a friendly bar. My customers are friends. I don't think you could be.”

“This is also a members only club,” Barry said firmly. “You're not members.”

Mr. Tall smiled but it was a predatory smile as in a bear before attacking. He dumped what whiskey was left in his shot glass down his throat and said, “I choose to leave.” He said something to the others in whatever language.

“Waa halkaan. Waxxan dereemayaa,” Bald and bearded said right near us.

“Aniguba sidaas ayaan sameeyaa,” the bald one said.

Tall man nodded. “Let's go.”

The other two walked toward tall man and they left.

Things hardly returned to normal, but a general sigh of relief was heard from practically everyone at the bar. Mikell was speaking to someone quickly now. Yuri wanted to be the one doing what Mikell was doing now, but Mikell working on something.

Pano came to the door to the office and unlocked it. “Be ready.” He didn't say what we were to be ready for.

Then we heard two “pops” from outside. I wasn't even sure what they were a first.

I then saw Mikell sprint to the door, but he turned and shouted. “Secure them! A transport will be at that door in seconds.” He pointed at the back door we had sat near. “Get on it and go to the Duchess.”

Peter looked at Alec and Mercer, “Were those gunshots??”

Every agent had one of those earbuds, so knew what had happened.

Alec nodded, “They were. Rolph shot one those men leaving, but Cosmo was stabbed. Rolph says it's pretty bad.”

I had a sinking feeling as what I feared now happened.