Emz woke up late for a change that week, hunting Gary temporarily out of his mind. He finally lazily got out of bed, feeling sorry for himself, and without getting ready, made a big cup of coffee. He sat and stared out his loft windows at the snowflakes drifting down onto the city streets, watching as the morning light slowly broke through the clouds, turning the sky from black to lighter shades of grey. He barely touched his drink, letting it grow cold. He tried to think through his dilemma, but his brain refused to work properly, descending into a foggy emotional paralysis.
When the quiet, dreamy morning twilight world turned into a bustling daytime city again, with cars and pedestrians moving about their day, Emz snapped out of his bleak contemplation. He stood up, put the cold coffee down, threw on some gym clothes, and headed to the gym in the basement of his apartment. There, he began running on the treadmill.
It didn’t take long for the fog in his mind to lift as sweat started to form on his skin. Fuck that guy, Emz reflected on the fake Drexler. What irritated him the most was that he’d been played—he was so eager to take the job that he’d ignored all the red flags. Emz prided himself on being the smartest, or more accurately, the wiliest person in the room, so it bruised his pride deeply. He could cope with being knocked down in a brawl by a bigger, faster person, but being tricked and outwitted? That was his talent, his forte. Fuck that guy.
Halfway through his run, Emz moved from self-pity to self-criticism, then to the need for revenge and a plan to get out of his mess. The raw building blocks of something started to form in his mind as the 5k run finished. But it wasn’t until he was standing under the hot water in his shower, the water cascading over his head and upper body, that the clarity of thought fully arrived.
“Okay,” he said to himself in the steamy shower cubicle. “What if I did nothing? Next week, Drexler would send his wunder twins, but so what? Maybe I could handle them.” He reached for the shower gel. “Either they take me out, or I take them out… then the real Drexler would probably tell Petrovi? that I was part of a plan to rip him off. Petrovi? would definitely come for me. So, high risk.”
He rubbed the gel over his body. “Okay. I could go to Petrovi? first and tell him that we both got played. He might give me a pass if I help him track down fake Drexler or some other trade… but the real Drexler would still send the twins after me and could tell Petrovi? it was all my doing—that I only went to him to deflect suspicion or because I'd been found out. So, high risk—maybe even extreme risk—especially if I’m still with him when the real Drexler contacts him.”
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Emz looked down at the shower gel bottle and couldn’t remember if he had used it yet or not, so he started rubbing more gel over his body as the comforting hot water sprayed around him. “Okay. I take out the real Drexler and his entire crew. That would be tough but not impossible. I’d have to be quick, probably starting with Drexler, then his goons, and his tech guy. Or one of them could tell Petrovi? in revenge that I was cleaning house. Or I take them all out at once… way more tricky, but possible if I can come up with a decent plan in the next few days to get them all in the same place, maybe with a bomb… Fuck, this really isn’t my area of expertise, and I doubt I have the coin to hire a team of top-shelf killers to do that for me. Plus, his tech guy might be looking for online chatter like that. I could reach out to Bamba, though he's probably still on the mend. Even if I do take them all out, there’s still a loose end with fake Drexler. How would he respond? Would he care or worry that I’m coming for him next? He should. So he could message Petrovi? something. Ideally, I need to find him too in the next week. Damn, that’s still pretty high risk and complicated in such a short space of time.”
Emz looked at the shower gel bottle again, wondering if he had actually used it, but assumed he must have. He sniffed his shoulder, catching a minerally smell, then placed the bottle back on the shelf. “Okay. I could just leave, head back to London or somewhere new. I have around ￡100k in a GB account, €100k in stock, and about €60k in coin. Nowhere near enough to go on the run indefinitely, and if I started working somewhere, I’d be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life for Petrovi?. So, mid, maybe high risk and not an existence I want.”
Emz placed his hands on the wet tiles of the shower wall, letting the hot water drench his back. “Okay. Somehow, I steal the painting back. But Petrovi? would just immediately come for me. I was the last person he saw connected to it. Extreme risk.” He paused, feeling like there was something in that thought. “Unless I set someone else to take the fall. Yeah, yeah, okay.” He stood back up and let the hot water cover his head again. “I make it look like the real Drexler had his guys do it. Petrovi? will go ape shit and take it out on the real Drexler and his guys, and whatever they say about a fake sale will probably be ignored as delusion, almost laughable. It wasn’t me—it was a person pretending to be me! There might be some doubt I was involved, but it would only be doubt. What evidence could Drexler show? That I went to the gallery and took the painting to Petrovi?? That would all be true, and my history is tech-focused so the idea of me being deeply involved with an art dealer, that there’s no record of me meeting before would be weak. So, low to mid risk, mid at the most, at least compared to the other options.”
Emz stood still for a moment, running through the last option for gaps. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best option. He turned off the shower with pruney fingers. “Looks like I’m doing a heist. If that fails, then I run.” He opened the shower door, and the steam rushed out. Reaching for a towel, he began rubbing his short hair dry. “I need a tech guy.”
