Operation: A Roving Commission: I Love The Nightlife Baby

[x-gambit.livejournal.com]

North and Jubilee talk to one of Bulat's competition for more details on how he conducts his business.



Dragos Lungu was a man of influence in Constanta. He owned clubs in eight countries in Europe, and his men kept them well stocked with girls of all types; young naive women who thought they could make fast money, older experienced ones with hard eyes, and some who never had a choice, forced under threat of violence or debts they could never repay. In short, Lungu was exactly the kind of scum that they normally enjoyed putting out of business. Unfortunately, in order to focus on their main quarry, Cristu Bulat, it meant having to make arrangements with his rivals, which meant climbing down into the slime with them. They were seated in a large booth near the back of the dimly lit club, filled with Russian and Turkish sailors cheering on an uninspiring burlesque. Drink flowed freely, but it was just a way of preparing for the true purpose of a visit here, made obviously by the loud, wet sounds of oral sex spilling over from the booth next to them. One of the staff finally dropped off their drinks, and in bad Russian, informed them that Lungu was on his way.

“You know, I’m like this close to goin’ around there and givin’ whoever is doin’ that next door some tips,” Jubilee noted, raising an eyebrow at the muffled noises and taking a sip from her drink. It was violently coloured, had a little paper umbrella and a straw, just the kind of drink she liked at this sort of place as it usually meant whoever was talking to her would make assumptions about either her intelligence, her experience or a little of both. You could get a lot out of someone who relaxed their guard because they didn’t think you were smart enough. It wasn’t always the way she went, but anyone who operated a sleazy joint like this wasn’t likely to respect her intelligence or her abilities anyway so going in the other direction had seemed prudent.

David’s non-committal hum was quickly swallowed up by the noise around them. He raised the brandy snifter to his lips to wet them, not quite taking any amber liquid into his mouth, before returning it to the table. Slate blue eyes scanned the crowd, not seeing Lungu just yet. It was always a power play with these types – keep people waiting, just to show them that their presence was not important enough to earn. Or any attention at all.

“You’re in the mood to join in?” He asked, tone deceptively even and pitched slightly below the ruckus that was going on next door. A brief glance and an amused smirk were flashed, gone in the next instance. “I can cover for you while you go scratch the itch. If you’d like.”

“From this place?” Jubilee asked, one raised eyebrow saying all she needed to say on the matter. “Not even with your dick, dude.”

Her companion smirked, fingers tapping out what seemed like a bored rhythm on the table. “I’m sure they could learn much from your invaluable ‘tips’,” he remarked, returning her look with a quirked eyebrow of his own. As if to punctuate his point, the grunting and moaning seemed to reach a fevered pitch. Well, that had not lasted very long.

"The Americans!" A voice boomed from the darkness, and a huge, massively bearded man sat down at the table beside them. He was heavily tattooed, bald, and his hands were badly scarred. A hard men, with cold eyes that his expansion smile never quite reached. "It is so good for you to visit. Is for me, this club. My own domain." He caught a passing waitress in a meaty grip.

"Why no champagne for my friends? Girl is to be moving." He added something in a much lower voice in Romania, and the woman blanched and fled for the bar. "The staff - they come they go all the same. Not best serving drinks."

Romanian was one of the languages Jubilee had yet to get around to learning, it being far down on her list of destinations where she wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb. Still, you didn’t have to be fluent to get that what he’d said to the waitress must have been a threat of some sort.

“That’s perfectly alright, Mr. Lungu,” Jubilee noted with a smile designed to charm, her normal Southern Californian accent and mannerisms almost non-existent save for a mild inflection. “I’m sure neither myself, nor my partner were offended.” "Does the talking for you, enh?" The man raised an eyebrow at North, all but ignoring Jubilee for a moment. "Is not business sometime. Women, they get the wrong ideas. So, you pay good money to talk to Dragos. Well, talk!”

Glancing sideways at Jubilee for a second, David offered Lungu a chilly smile, leaning back against his seat and crossing his legs ankle to knee. It would, actually, have made for a more amiable time for the both of them if Jubilee had ‘done the talking for him’; the German man felt very little need to break out his charm to fake a series of flattering smiles and compliments, after all.

But Lungu got to the point, and that much David could appreciate as long as Jubilee took no visible offence to his words. “A very vibrant business,” he observed, with just the right inflection to suggest approval. “But not the whole picture, ja?”

Jubilee had way too much training by now to visibly show any offense at the misogynistic bullshit Lungu was pulling, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t bitch to high heaven once they were done, or take great pleasure in handing the man his arse if he got fresh with them in any way. Frankly, she hoped he did, she’d be more than willing to show the man his own lungs in reward for any betrayals. For the moment however, they were trying to get his help, and so she’d hold her tongue and smile and make nice.

She sat back, making sure she kept her eye on the people around them, bringing her attention back to North and Lungu every so often to keep abreast of the conversation.
"Is face, this club. Very important to have one that the police can keep their eyes on. Better here than on other places." He paused as the bottle of wine was brought to the table and deftly served to the three of them. "Much like with girls. Bring drinks makes a little money. Other places make real money."

“Other places where girls bring in the real money,” David repeated, thumbing the underside of his chin thoughtfully as his other hand automatically reached to circle the stem of the wine glass. Leaning forward slightly in his seat, the he quirked a brow at the other man. “Are you referring to the same work that our friend Bulat does?”

"Bulat has no friends. He is, what is word? Lone wolf." Dragos took a long swallow. "His merchandise commands an excellent fee. He is, man who can make a delivery happen, so to speak."

Jubilee picked up her own drink, took a sip and put it back down, turning her attention back to the conversation after a moment spent in silence. “And is Dragos someone who can make a delivery happen?”

"I have means, yes."

David wet his lips with the champagne and waited three seconds. “Such as?”

"I thought it was information on Bulat you paid for, not Dragos." His mood shifted dangerously.

"Of course, of course," Jubilee replied, leaning back in her chair as if the man in front of her wasn't capable of harming them at any second. "So how about we talk about Bulat then?"

"How about you find a useful purpose for that mouth and leave this to the men?" Dragos said, notably getting agitated. If they were going to get anything useful from him, this was their last chance.

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll find some useful purpose for that mouth later,” David replied, seemingly unperturbed with a faint suggestive smile on his lips as he stretched an arm out on the seat behind Jubilee. No doubt that mouth would be cursing up a storm once they were out of there. “But you will be generous and forgive my curiousity, I hope. It was only out of admiration for your success. Please, tell me about Bulat.”

"Bulat spends his time in the docks. I hear he likes the water? Is said, trucks too. Rental trucks, hired on sadly stolen credit cards. Is such a world." He tsked. "Water. Trucks. Bulat." he gulped the rest of his drink. "Now, unless you'd like an offer on the Chink, Dragos has business."

Jubilee's time spent training with assassins had taught her several ways to kill a man, and she'd never wanted to use them more then at that particular moment. Instead, she smiled brightly and turned to David as if waiting for instructions. She was wondered briefly how much she'd have to pay Amanda to get her to talk her witch friends into cursing the man with impedance.

There were also many ways one could simply torture information out of a man. But David merely nodded and smirked in seeming satisfaction, knowing that the limited information would have to do for now. Water and trucks. And credit card transactions. They could roll some ways with that. “Wouldn’t dream of keeping you from it, my friend.” Arm around Jubilee’s shoulders, he forewent the usual social niceties of too many awkward thanks and adieus, and led the petite girl out of the club.