Out There Bad

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Central slave market. Hunting. No leads to Russian girls yet. Yesterday a young man told me he could take me to a stable of Russian whores. He lied. He tried to rob me. I slit his throat. Left a tarot card on his chest. Left his body in the gutter. One more piece of trash to be picked up.

I travel light, everything I need fits in my coat. Russian military issue. The soldier who owned it won’t need it to keep warm anymore.

Down a fresh alley. Deeper into the labyrinth. Broken hollow-faced girls stare out of the shadows. Olive skin, brown eyes. Broken. I must keep on point. Solve what I came to solve. Fight for all and you will win none. Simple math. Men laugh. Men drink. Men step out of the way when they see me coming. They can smell death.

“Tell me where the Russian girls are?”

“Fuck if I know, maybe here, maybe there. How much money you got?” He is a middleman. He thinks he is in control because we are in his office. Outside a closed door are three armed men. He feels safe.

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