In addition to the Crews, there were the drug lords from Tomascio to think of—vicious wesp bastards. Remi also had to consider that he’d angered many of his fellow Green Bones in Port Massy. They might come after him themselves, though more likely the sanctimonious hypocrites were busy covering their own asses and ratting him out to the police at every turn.
So when rumor reached Jon Remi that a man new to town had been frequenting the local fighting dens and unsubtly asking questions about the Bad Keck, his first suspicion was that the nosy stranger was a police informant. When he had his own people investigate, his suspicions changed and deepened. Then, he became extremely curious.
“Pick this guy up,” he ordered. “I want to meet him.”
Tonight, the only people on the second floor of the Feast of Janloon were three of Remi’s trusted men—Snakeheads who’d all been awarded jade for killing crewboys. One of them peered between the slats of the window blinds at the sound of an arriving vehicle and slamming car doors on the street below. “They’re here, boss.”
Remi got a good look at the stranger as he was led up the stairwell and across the restaurant floor to Remi’s table. The man took off his cap as he approached. He wore plain brown pants and an untucked black shirt under a faded corduroy jacket. Remi had assumed the man would be in his late forties, but he looked older than that, his face hard and lined, his dark hair flecked with gray and receding at the temples. He walked with a certain cautious, unhurried care, but the alertness of his manner, the arrogant predatory quality with which he held himself, indicated that this was a man the Kekonese would call green in the soul.
“Remi-jen,” said Maik Tar warily. He touched his forehead and dipped into a shallow salute.
Jon Remi gestured for the older man to sit down at the table. Maik did so, helping himself to a glass of water and leaning back in the chair. He was not at ease—he did not seem to be the sort of person ever fully at ease—but he displayed no anxiety to be sitting in front of one of the city’s most notorious crime bosses. Remi studied the man with interest. He gestured to the server. “What’ll you drink?”
“Just water,” said Maik, speaking in Kekonese.
“Not even hoji?” said Remi. “This place imports the quality stuff from Kekon, none of the cheap shit.”
“I don’t drink,” Maik said. “Not anymore.”
Remi shrugged and ordered another beer for himself. The other three Snakeheads at the table squinted at Maik in fascinated disappointment, as if he were a fictional character come to life. “Tell me,” Remi said, “what brings a man who used to be a top Green Bone of the No Peak clan here to Resville?”
Maik scowled and shifted in his chair. “If you brought me here to talk about the No Peak clan, you have the wrong person,” he said bitterly. “I haven’t been a Green Bone for twelve years. I haven’t touched jade, I haven’t been back to Janloon, I haven’t seen my family, not once. I’m no one in Kekon.”
The man’s words were thick with so much sour resignation that Remi didn’t doubt they were true. Besides, he’d already dug into Maik’s past. Remi’s connections in Port Massy had corroborated the stories: Maik Tar used to be one of the most feared Green Bones on either side of the Amaric Ocean. He’d been Kaul Hiloshudon’s right hand. He’d put the notorious Willum “Skinny” Reams at the bottom of Whitting Bay in pieces. Then, a dozen years ago, he’d killed his own fiancée in a blind rage and been exiled from the No Peak clan. Every one of Remi’s investigations confirmed that Maik had no contact with Janloon. No visits back to the island, no phone calls, no money sent to him. Maik Tar, people told him, was jadeless and washed up, but not to be fucked with.
“And yet, after all these years, people still know who you are,” Remi said, tapping his teeth thoughtfully with the end of a toothpick. “That’s one hell of a reputation, old man. So I don’t think it should be any surprise that I’d like to know why you’ve shown up in my city.”
Maik’s shoulders came down and he blew out a noisy breath. “Port Massy is a big place, big enough even for someone like me to disappear into. But it’s getting too expensive to live there. And too many people have ties to No Peak and know who I used to be. I can’t ever quite escape it. So it’s time for a change. A fresh start. Resville is warmer, and there are Kekonese people here.”
Maik tilted his head curiously and gave Remi a straight stare, something that few men dared to do. “Also, I’d heard of this man in Resville they call Bad Keck Remi. And I couldn’t help wondering if he might have work for someone like me.”