Big Black Bear

~Alexie Ivanov~

A subdued sigh escaped my lips as my fingers delicately massaged my temples, confirming my prescient suspicions – this week promised to be an irksome one. The cloak of darkness had already descended, exacerbating my discontent, compounded by the relentless throb of jet lag coursing through my veins. Adding to the disquiet was my personal aversion to the cityscape, replete with its squalor, odors, desolation, and the unwelcome embrace of the bustling crowd – an amalgamation of unpleasantness.

Seeking refuge, my eyes discerned a bookstore adjacent to the exit gate, and I yearned for a momentary sanctuary away from my incessant shadows. Ever since my arrival at the airport from the United States, these persistent figures had doggedly followed my every step. One of these audacious pursuers had gone so far as to strategically position himself in the same line as me during the immigration process.

With a sigh, I gravitated towards the classical section, where I acquired a copy of Aurelius Marcus. Tendering Euros to the store owner, I completed the transaction before gracefully navigating my way outside. As I stepped into the open air, an involuntary hiss escaped my lips upon encountering my companion for the week – or, more aptly, my temporary captor. The man, towering nearly seven feet tall, attempted to impose his presence by sheer size, surpassing me by inches. However, such physical stature didn't confer hierarchical authority, prompting me to tilt my head in a bemused smirk.

Nonchalantly, I tossed my luggage in his direction, a symbolic gesture, reminding him that despite his watchful eye, he held no dominion over me unless I transgressed some predetermined line.

Without a word, he grunted and stowed the luggage in the car trunk before courteously opening the back door for me. However, with a nonchalant stretch, I bypassed the back seat and confidently prowled toward the front passenger side. Gesturing for him to drive, I slid inside.

Aware of the potential hazards that could unfold in the backseat, ranging from spiked drinks to sleeping gas, I was well-versed in their repertoire of trickery. Letting out a sigh, I retrieved my glasses and settled into a position conducive to a nap. Yet, I subtly conveyed to the man beside me that he shouldn't perceive this as an opportunity to exploit my vulnerability. My strategic position allowed me to maintain vigilance; a slight movement from him could be met with a swift response, armed with a pen from my pocket, all while keeping a watchful eye on the route we traversed.

Involved in this intricate case were high-profile underworld criminals, each holding direct connections to the influential figures seated at the high table. While some wisely refrained from provoking the proverbial black bear, others foolishly believed that eliminating me would be a straightforward solution. "Duraki (fools)," I muttered, loud enough for my vigilant companion to hear.

As we arrived in the darkened vicinity of the hotel, I wasted no time and swiftly directed my attention to the stairs. Commanding the man behind me, I gestured for the keys. "Swap it with me," I instructed, asserting my desire to take control of the situation.

"What?" murmured the large man in a deep French accent.

Seizing his key in a swift motion, I left the man momentarily startled. Out of a mix of frustration and urgency, he began trailing me. "Medre..." he cursed under his breath. "Sire, the suite is especially prepared for you."

Ignoring his attempts to communicate, I pressed forward until I reached the room on the first floor. Swiftly unlocking the door with the card key, I entered.

"Sire," he called out again, panting beside me. "Please listen..."

With a low growl, I turned around, a placid smile gracing my face as I inquired, "Now, where are my manners? What was your name again?"

Gulping, the man started to speak, "Hen—" but I didn't let him finish. Seizing the moment of vulnerability, I thrust my foot towards him, causing him to lose his balance and fall to his knees. Before he could regain his composure, I clasped his face in my palm, squeezing his skull harshly. In that tense moment, I positioned the pen in my hand dangerously close to his bulging blue eye.

"Now listen, sukka," I spat, "take this key, go back down, and call your piggies downstairs. Tell them the mission failed, understand?" I waited for a response, but when he remained silent, I increased the pressure on his skull until he nodded. Continuing, I warned, "And if I see any of your piggies attempting to disturb my sleep, I swear on Hail Mary, I'll be swimming in your blood and your friends' by tomorrow." The man whimpered, but my weariness overcame my severity, and I cooed to him kindly, "I understand, Henri. You were just a hired mercenary, trying to make a living for your family. But this, risking your life for me? I'm not worth it, am I?"

Observing the whimper escape the large man, it became evident that the escorts had changed. A member of the guild wouldn't display such feebleness, although I couldn't deny they were far from foolish. Sighing, I pointed to the brown bag in my luggage. "Go grab that, and no funny business, okay?"

Slowly and unsure, the man obliged. "Open it," I commanded as I nonchalantly took a seat on a chair near the door. When he complied with shaky hands, I could swear I heard a moan escape his lips. The bag, bulging with green, was something I had picked up before leaving the airport at a bookstore arranged by one of my underdogs. I knew that certain situations required a straightforward solution – millions of dollars.

"Share it with your friends downstairs," I instructed, and with giddy excitement, the man moved towards the exit, murmuring, "Merci, Merci." However, before he could leave, I kicked the door shut in his face, then calmly reclined back on the seat. "I'm not finished, Henri," I called out. "There is more where that came from. All you and your friends have to do is a little something for me." I smirked at the man, the promise of both reward and potential danger lingering in the air.

The next morning, as anticipated, a new escort was assigned to me, and we drove to the railway station, where we boarded a train bound for Cannes. Needless to say, having the company of civilians was a far preferable prospect than being stuck with some "piggies" for the next seven hours. Not that they couldn't end my life in this steel concoction if they wished, but I made sure to cultivate a form of traveler's camaraderie with my fellow passengers.

Considering the nature of the organization, they wouldn't want media and the general public prying into their affairs. Whether it was conversing with the elderly couple beside me, exchanging pleasantries with the student in the adjacent row, or occasionally playing with the little girl who wandered around the entire cabin striking up conversations with strangers, my main companion was my book. Not for the content of the book itself, but for the screen hidden within its pages—the screen that displayed the smile of my beautiful angel. A solitary figure, keeping me tethered to the brink of sanity.