Felix got up again, and again I pressed my attack, fending off his off balance punches to knee him deep in the muscle of his right thigh. With that muscle knotted up as well as his ankle in pain, I quickly outmaneuvered him and landed another punch, this time to the stomach that doubled him over. Felix coughed, spitting a wad of phlegm and a little bit of blood into the dirt, and held up his finger. "One more round."
I was taken aback when Felix switched his feet, pulling his right leg back and putting his left leg forward. He knew my tactic. I decided to overwhelm him again, pressing in quickly. I was shocked when suddenly I ended up on my back, Felix standing above me with his left foot at my throat. "Knockout," Felix said quietly, then helped me to my feet. "You got cocky with my leg."
I shook my head, surprised. Felix and I needed to fight more often, he was the best opponent I'd ever faced. "I barely felt it until I was on my back."
Felix grinned. "Thank you. Now, help me inside. I want to get this jaw iced and my ankle soaked in hot water before Jordan gets back. If she sees me hobbling or in pain, she's going to freak out and probably kick both of our asses."
After helping Francois into the bathtub, I got on the computer, logging into my secret e-mail. There was a message from my contact, the boss of the man who'd come by the house the day before. My men said you did a very good job of selling the deal, but they were surprised when they realized who you and your brother are. There is a new rider on the contract. Your brother is not going to be terminated but instead be brought into the custody of certain partners of mine. We will take possession of the book and your brother at that time.
If that’s what it takes, I wrote back in an e-mail. Arrange the hand-off to be soon after the obtaining of the book. We will not be alone, and I don’t want her suspecting. Send details in next message.
I shut down my computer, making sure to wipe the history of the e-mail. The hateful idea resonated with me. The king who becomes a slave. I kind of liked the sound of that.
Chapter 22
Felix
Stuttgart is a city of contradictions. One of the oldest cities in southwestern Germany, most people associate it with the history of the automobile. After all, Karl Benz invented the car in Stuttgart, and even today Mercedes-Benz and Porsche are headquartered there. But at the same time, Stuttgart isn't overly industrial like some of the other manufacturing centers of Germany. There are large artistic centers, universities, and museums that made it a fine place for people who were looking for culture to visit as well. Of all the cities in Germany that I'd been to, it was one of my favorites and a routine stop on my travels around Europe.
One of the biggest reasons I went to Stuttgart was that it sports a large immigrant population, which is what we were looking for. Taking advantage of the high-tech culture of the Stuttgart area, we were looking for our contact in a scene that Jordan probably felt more at home in than any other we'd been in so far in Europe, a hard rock club.
The waves of immigration had blended with the German penchant for techno and hard rock throughout the nineties, giving rise to a plethora of niche clubs that catered to the different tastes around the city. We were in an American hard rock club, which had an eclectic mix of all the different local nationalities represented. On stage, what could only be described as a Pantera knock-off band wailed away.
"Their guitarist sucks," Francois yelled over the hypersonic music. "I could do a better fucking job!"
I had my doubts, but let Francois continue on. Jordan, to her credit, just sat back and enjoyed the music. I didn’t care for it, but that was due to the singer who felt the obsessive need to alternatively growl or scream his lyrics the entire time. I understand that heavy metal tends to get that way, but this guy was ridiculous. "You can definitely out-sing the man," I told Francois. "I think with a little bit of training, the three of us could replace the entire band, actually."
“They're better than some of the bands I played with," Jordan commented. “One thing is for sure, though, the beer is good. I've missed it myself."
I took a sip of my stein, which was a good proper German brew, and had to admit it was good. Vastly different from the wines of our home, it wasn’t a drink I partook in often but was willing to enjoy for this situation. Francois was keeping himself totally sober while Jordan was also taking in a single beer as well, sipping at her amber ale slowly.
I sat back with Jordan, who looked amazing in her leather pants and short-waisted jacket, purchased specifically for this trip to the club. Spending four hundred dollars for an outfit that she most likely would only wear once seemed foolish, but I enjoyed getting it for her. And the way she wore it, she oozed rock charisma. She'd turned heads from the moment we entered the club, which in a lot of ways was helpful. Anyone who remembered us would pay more attention to Jordan than to Francois and I. Deception is just as important as stealth when it comes to being a thief.