Sneijder opens

A small, baldheaded man in an expensive-looking suit opened the door. From the photo from Logan’s envelope Max knew that this was Thomas Sneijder. When he saw her, he smiled and bared two rows of yellow teeth.

“Umm... I was expecting a guy in a wheelchair and look what I’m getting; an angel straight from Heaven!” he said. Max put on her best fake smile. 'Wow. I was expecting a slimy, disgusting bastard and look what I’m getting: A slimy, disgusting bastard', she thought, but instead she said: “Mr. Cale was unable to make the appointment. He apologizes, he sent me to make the deal. My name is Max Guevara.”

“Well, honey, his excuse is more than accepted. I’m Thomas Sneijder. Come in and, my office is over there,” Sneijder said, waving her in. Max stepped in and he closed the door. Then he followed her, always two steps behind, his eyes never leaving her tight, leather-clad butt as they made their way back to his office.

As they entered, Max immediately noticed the exquisite furniture. Expensive paintings and antiquities covered the walls and cupboards. Swords, little statues... everything, that could confirm a male ego seemed to be welcome. The complete far wall was a window showing the panorama of Seattle’s environments. In the center of the room, on a small podium, stood a huge desk, with a huge monitor on and a huge armchair behind it. Also Max noticed the amount of high quality security cams, filming every inch of the room, leaving no blind spots.

In front of the podium were two chairs. One was empty, but Max immediately recognized the large man in the other. She had seen him on a photo at Logan’s. Lucas Frank, the leader of one of the most dangerous street gangs in Seattle. Next to him stood his bodyguard, an even larger man, glowering at her. Lucas had turned around in his chair to get a look at the newcomer. His stare was not the slightest bit friendlier than his bodyguard’s. He was a black guy in his thirties, and his once handsome face was covered in scars, giving him an extremely scary look.

“Who’s the bitch?”, he growled, “Thought, Cale was the other bidder!”

“Mr. Cale couldn’t make it, so he sent us this pretty little thing. Her name is Max Guevara. Honey, have a seat, this is Mr. Lucas Frank”, Sneijder said while he walked around his desk and sat down in his armchair, almost disappearing in it. Max wasn’t sure which man was more unsympathetic when she sat down.

“Why is he here?”, she asked.

“Well, honey, Mr. Frank also wanted the chance to bid, so here we are...”, Sneijder responded. Max’ didn’t like this. Frank would use the information for his own use and that was definitely not good. Logan reckoned on her and she was sure that he wouldn’t want the disc in the hands of one of Seattle’s most powerful crime lords. Then Sneijder interrupted her thoughts.

“Let the bidding begin...”

“100 Dollars!”, Max exclaimed immediately.

“200!” Frank retorted.

“300!”

“400!”

“500!”

“600!”

“700!”

“800!”

“1000!”, said Max, trying to scare Frank off by increasing the steps. Thousand was her whole budget. That meant: nothing left for her. But the mission was more important. She had to get this disc. Damned!

That’s when she heard Frank grunt: “2000 Dollars!”