The Manhattan Beach Project by Peter Lefcourt

Author:Peter Lefcourt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2005-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

Charlie learned about the noodle restaurant bomb attempt from Dostyk, who had heard it from Murv’s driver, who had witnessed it from underneath one of the tables. As soon as Murv got back to the compound, he closeted himself with Izbul in the office. There was a great deal of loud talking, gesticulating, vows and threats, as the warlord swore holy vengeance against the bomber. He was obviously the target. Had it not been that Mark was set to marry Charisse on Days of Our Lives that day, he would have made the trip to Nukus himself to beat the shit out of the deadbeat rug merchant.

In the production trailer Buzz did a running translation of the discussion in the office for Charlie.

“They don’t know who threw the bomb. The guy was wearing a ski mask,” Buzz explained. “But they know that Justyna was filming in the restaurant, and they want to see the film to see if they can figure out who attempted the hit.”

“Oh, shit.”

Simultaneously they both looked at the monitor that covered Ferghana’s room, and saw the Polish camera operator getting undressed to join Izbul’s daughter in her shower.

Charlie got up and started to pace. “Okay,” he reasoned out loud to Buzz, “so, they’re going to go looking for Justyna and the film, right? By now, Izbul’s spies, who in the interest of self-preservation had probably avoided telling him about Justyna and Ferghana, have spilled the beans. Izbul goes charging up to her room, finds her in the shower with his daughter, and, best-case scenario, cuts her a new one. Worst-case scenario, he whacks her, takes the film, and we lose not only our camerawoman but a great action sequence…”

“I’m way ahead of you,” said Buzz, as both of them headed for the trailer door. They hurried across the compound, through a side door that bypassed the office wing, and entered the family quarters. They ran down the hall, nearly running over Akbar, as he headed for the bathroom with a copy of Hustler in his hand.

“Fuck life, asshole,” Akbar uttered in his hip-hop version of English.

“You’re welcome,” Charlie said, continuing down the hallway and around the corner.

They got to the door of Ferghana’s room and knocked. No response. Charlie knocked again, then put his ear to the door.

“I don’t know if they can hear. The shower’s running…”

Employing a combination of Peace Corps and drug dealer ingenuity, Buzz removed a roach clip from his boot and used it to pop the flimsy hook and chain lock on Ferghana’s door. They walked in and looked toward the open bathroom door. Steam was emerging. You could hear the shrill love moans over the pounding sound of the shower.

This was a tough call. One way or the other, they had to get their hands on that film and get Justyna out of the shower before Izbul showed up.

“Fire!” They both yelled loudly, and repeated it until the shower curtain opened and Justyna, her blond hair streaming down her panting body, looked at them with demented confusion.

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