Tony Baton. Michael walked over and introduced himself. Tony nodded toward the chair across from him.
“George says you’re solid. I hope you’re not wasting my time.” Michael took out the folder and set it on the table.
“Everything’s in there. Just facts.” Tony opened the folder and started going through it.
He read the statements, studied the photos, watched the videos on the phone. Twenty minutes of silence. Then he closed the folder and looked at Michael.
“If this checks out, Arthur’s a fool who doesn’t understand what it means to use another man’s name. It’s all true. Every document can be verified.”
Tony asked several questions about Arthur, his connections, the timeline. Michael answered clearly and without extra talk. Finally Tony nodded.
“I believe you. I’ll pass this to Rostov tonight. But he won’t move instantly.”
“It’ll take time to verify. Three days to a week.” Michael felt everything tighten inside him.
“I don’t have a week. Arthur gave me three days.” “I understand.
I’ll try to speed it up. No promises.” Tony stood.
“Hang in there, Carter. You’re doing the right thing.” Michael shook his hand and left the café.
That evening he got on the overnight bus home. He rode all night, sleeping in short bursts. He had a nightmare.
He was standing alone in the market against a crowd of Arthur’s men. He woke up in a cold sweat. The bus arrived at six in the morning.
Michael knew right away something was wrong. He grabbed a cab and asked the driver, “You hear anything about the market?”
“Fire last night. Three stalls burned.” Michael went cold.
Arthur had started making good on his threats. Michael called Steve immediately. Steve answered in a shaking voice.
“Mike, it’s bad. Walter’s stall burned, Pete’s burned, and another guy who sold shoes lost his too. All three had refused to pay after you beat Tank and Lenny.”
“When did it happen?” “Ten last night. Somebody poured gas and lit it up.”
“Whole thing burned in twenty minutes. Inventory worth thousands turned to ash.” “Anybody hurt?”
“No, thank God. Market was already closed. But people are rattled. A lot of them say we should give in and start paying again.”
Michael clenched his fists. “Tell everybody to hold on a little longer. Things are about to change.”
“Mike, they’re scared. Walter already left town to stay with family.” “I know.
I’ll gather everybody tonight in the garage.” Michael got home, dropped his bag, and called George right away. “Arthur burned three stalls at the market.”
“I know. My people told me. Situation’s ugly.”
“I need help. At least two or three men at the market so it doesn’t happen again.” “I’ll send them today, but that’s temporary.
What happened in the capital?” Tony took the documents, said he’d pass them to Rostov. “But it could take three days to a week.”
George was quiet. “A week? That’s too long.
Arthur could burn the whole neighborhood down by then.” “I know. So we hold the line.”
That evening Michael went to the garage. Only four men showed up: Steve, Nick from the auto shop, Sam from the store, and Pete, whose stall had burned. Walter had left town. The others were too afraid to come.
Their faces were gray. Their eyes looked dead tired. “People don’t want to hold on anymore,” Steve said. “They’re saying tomorrow they’ll start paying again.”
Michael understood. He was losing them. “Listen,” he said firmly.
“I went to the capital. I gave all the proof to Paul Rostov’s people. A decision is coming that will strip Arthur of his protection.”
Nick cut in. “When exactly? Today, tomorrow, next week? People are losing their businesses right now”…
