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“Where are they?” asked the man.

“Here,” said Hugo. “They’re close. I just don’t have their exact location yet.”

“You said you had them. You told us that you knew their location and had them ready for us to dispose of. All of them.”

“I’m working on it. You need to be patient.”

“We have been patient for decades. Our grandfathers were patient. Our fathers were patient. These are old men. Men that should be dead, and yet you cannot find a group of old men. We want them in our possession by tomorrow, or you will be the replacement.”

“I’m doing what I can,” said Hugo, slamming his hand against the table. The eyes of those around them at the outdoor dining space turned, staring at the disruption. He cleared his throat, shaking his head. “I’m doing what I can. They’re obviously not as old and decrepit as you believe. They were able to kill all of my men. All!”

“Perhaps this was a mistake,” said one of the men. “Perhaps our fathers were right, and we should let this go.”

“No! No, we had a deal. I will get them for you, and you will give me what I want.”

“Do not yell at us,” said one of the men quietly. “If you raise your voice again, we will leave you in the hands of these men.”

“I will get them to you,” he said confidently. “I just need more time.”

“Tomorrow. Have them within our reach by tomorrow.”

The four men rose and left the small outdoor café. Hugo stared at their retreating backs, secretly despising the men and who they were. But he needed them. He needed their money, he needed their contacts, he needed them to introduce him to the right people and elevate his name.

But getting the men of REAPER, or Gray Wolf, or whatever they called themselves now, to show up and show their faces was harder than expected. What he had going for him was that they wanted him. Yes, he’d have to put his neck out there to draw them in. Yes, he’d have to risk his own life in the hope that his Middle Eastern friends would kill them before they kill him.

For him, it was a risk worth taking.

He took the narrow side streets back to the small boutique hotel where he was staying. At more than three hundred dollars a night, he expected top-notch service, and he was getting it. He left orders for fresh coffee every morning, two eggs over easy, bacon, and a toasted everything bagel. At night, he wanted a steak, medium-rare, baked potato with everything on the side, and a salad, along with a great bottle of red wine.

Every morning and every night, it came to his room like clockwork.

“Good evening, Mr. Hugo,” said the desk clerk.

“Good evening,” he said with an aristocratic air.

“Shall I have them begin to prepare your evening meal, sir?”

“Please. And tonight, have them send up dessert as well. I’d like pecan pie with vanilla ice cream and the double-chocolate cake.”

“Oh, you’ll love that,” smiled the young man. “They’re the best.”

“Good. Good,” he smiled.

In his room, he quickly showered and pulled on lounge pants with a t-shirt, checking his e-mail. He needed to find a way to draw out the men to a remote location, giving the Samaan family a chance at their revenge.

The Quarter was too public. Too many people, too much traffic, too many cameras. Just too much. Shopping malls were out with all the cameras and people.

“There has to be something,” he whispered to himself.

When a knock on the door came, he stood, welcoming his evening meal. He looked at the young girl, thinking he might need a distraction tonight, but then noticed she had an engagement ring, immediately changing his mind. He didn’t need that kind of trouble right now.

“Thank you, Jeannie,” he said, signing the bill. “I appreciate the quick service every night.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hugo, for the great tip. My fiancé and I are attending university, and it definitely helps.”

“What are you studying?” he asked without really showing any interest.

“Exotic animals. I get to do work at the New Orleans Zoo and this really cool island in the bayou that rescues animals and brings them back to good health or helps elderly animals die with dignity. It’s so cool!”

He stared at her, nodding.

“In the bayou, you say?”

“Yes, sir. It’s got a short little bridge to it, but you have to be invited, and then they’ll let you on the island.”

“So, I can’t just go out there?”

“No, sir. You have to be invited by the zoo or the university or the owners, and I don’t know who they are.”

“You know, I have a fascination for preserving wildlife. Do you think you could get me an invite to the island? I’d like to make a sizeable donation but don’t want them to know that just yet.”

“Oh, wow! I could see. Can you give me a few hours to check?”

“Of course,” he smiled. “Take all the time you need.”