Nea Fane – Un Biet Român Pripășit în America / A Hapless Romanian Stuck in The US

“Two for a Penny” Novels

Introduction

It was toward the end of February, and Winter and Spring were debating who’s leaving and who’s coming. Winter was on its way out, Spring was moving in fast, too fast: the grass was turning all green, a little snowdrop was popping up, and then Winter just roared back with a vengeance, freezing everything. People were wearing anything from short sleeves to fur coats. Some were laughing at each other, like, “Look at that fool over there.”

Around 5:30 or 6, Uncle Tom came back with the dogs from their walk. He had these two massive, gorgeous mutts that needed tons of exercise. Tommy did his best to walk them as much as possible around the park by the lake, but being stuck in the apartment for work and being a bit on the heavy side, it just wasn’t enough. Anyway, when he finally got back home, he was completely wiped out: the dogs had dragged him through the park, chasing after cats, squirrels, and all sorts of other dubious little critters.

The Envelope

In front of the apartment door, there was this regular old envelope, but with a fast courier label. Weird, right? Fast couriers usually use special envelopes that stand out.

He grabs it, feels it (the latest way of dealing with new mail), and totally freaks out in his head. Inside the envelope, there were two slim, solid rectangular prisms, like they were bars of precious metal, weighing about an ounce each. How on earth did Uncle Tom know exactly? The whole thing is a crazy, long story, but the main point is that Tommy had purchased some gold two weeks earlier.

The delivery guy came to the door, Tom signed for it, took the envelope, and was happy: for the first time in his life, he had some gold. He looked at it, admired it in that special packaging, replete with all kinds of security and authenticity measures. Then, when he saw that wholesalers were, again, offering gold for sale, he thought it wouldn’t hurt to buy two more pieces, which he did.

However, this time, he received an equally beautiful envelope, but empty. The envelope arrived a week later than it should have, after wandering through some dubious locations. On the Internet, you could see at any time where your package was. Two of those locations, even Google Maps didn’t know where they were. Uncle Tom’s luck was that he had a hidden camera, which had recorded the whole delivery, plus the fact that the envelope had been opened in front of the courier, who noted on his tablet that the envelope was empty. Thomas immediately called Customer Service, the Online Orders Department, reported it, and a case was opened. On this occasion, he found out that he was neither the first – and probably not the last – to whom this had happened. Frequently, such envelopes were tracked by criminals as soon as they left the warehouse door and only occasionally reached the recipient. Because the goods were insured, and because the thefts had become epidemic, the police got involved and were on alert.

Let’s go back to the regular envelope, made of wrapping paper-like material. Uncle Tom was standing in front of the door with the envelope in his hand, not sure what to do. Eventually, he gathered enough courage to open the envelope: two beautiful bars, packaged as they should be from the gold factory, with serial numbers, sparkled in the pale light of the stairwell. He went inside, took a deep breath, and called Customer Service, the Online Orders Department, again: Michael answered, a young man who had graduated from The Polytechnic University and who, like all graduates without connections, worked in a call center.

The Setup

Tommy hadn’t even started telling his story when he found himself with two cops at the door – someone had reported him for insurance fraud. There was Jake, the old beat-up cop from the neighborhood, and another cop, younger, who mostly kept quiet and didn’t introduce himself.

Everyone knew Jake, and Jake knew everybody. They all grew up under his watchful eyes, from neighborhood troublemakers to well-behaved high school students, and now they’re all CEOs, entrepreneurs, or even convicts. Uncle Jake knew TomTom and knew that he was too much of a fool and too scared by his nature to steal. But still, he couldn’t leave without asking questions, trying to unravel the mystery of the empty parcels.

Michael, the young guy from Customer Service who had been quiet all this time, suddenly drops a bomb of a question: “Hey, could you tell me the number and series stamped on the ingot? I wanna compare them with the ones you said were stolen.”
And boom! They were the same! Tom was caught with the supposedly stolen pieces. All eyes turned to him. He, in turn, was pale as a ghost: he was proven guilty! He was so lost that he forgot about the previous case he had opened …

From a deep pocket appeared Jake’s notebook. He started writing. The colleague’s smartphone was out, and he began to tinker. The questions started, one after the other, confusing the poor suspect. When they found out, though, that there was another surveillance camera, well placed by Uncle Tommy, they immediately asked to see the recordings. This camera was in addition to the “official” cameras, installed by Madam Vizante’s son-in-law, the president of the homeowners’ association, who was paid lots of money for something that mostly didn’t work.

And in the recordings, it was pretty obvious how these two guys, sneaking around and dodging the so-called official cameras, had, just casually, dropped off the envelope in front of the door.

The Police Take Action

Immediately after the recording finished, the young cop made a call and started talking quietly to someone higher up, probably a big shot, considering how respectful he was. After he finished, he turned to Uncle Tom with a new attitude and said, “Hey, I’m Lieutenant Stan P. from the Brigade of Very Organized Thefts, and we could really use your help. We’ve got a very good shot at catching the Bathor Clan now.”

Tommy was freaking out. He didn’t understand anything anymore. Why would those thieves, who already had the stuff, bring it to his door? What was up with these Bathors? What did they really want? He had no clue. He started feeling dizzy, his head was spinning. And still, he said to Lieutenant Stan, “Sure, I’ll help. But what’s the deal?”

The Bathor Clan

All right, so here’s how the Bathors did their thing: they had some help, and together they’d snag packages they thought had valuable metals. Then, they’d carefully open them without ruining the original seal, check the contents, and if there was nothing cool inside, they’d seal it back up and let it go. But if it was gold, they’d stop it, get all the info of the person it was meant for, and send the empty package on its way. Pretty sneaky, right? The person expecting the package would end up with nothing, an investigation would ensue, the info about the stolen goods would go into the police system, the gold would eventually make it to the person, and, at the same time, the cops would find out that the one who reported the theft actually had the gold all along and was trying to pull a fast one. What exactly they were trying to pull wasn’t clear, since the store had insurance, not the buyer. But for those 24 hours, until everything got straightened out, the poor guy would be in custody, and the Bathors would literally clean out his place – I mean, they pretty much moved him out.

The Bathor Boys

Mastur Bathor, aka Quick Hand, and his brother A. Bathor, aka Cleaver, were quite the duo. No one had a clue about A.’s name origin, but everyone knew where Quick Hand and Cleaver hailed from.

Mastur’s mother had had an Indonesian boyfriend named like that and, to remember him, she named her son the same. The Old Man Bathor, the father, somehow found the name odd, but his Lady swore she had never had anyone before, that she had been a virgin, and that the name was a pure coincidence. Just in case, to avoid being ridiculed by the village, Bathor The Elder killed his wife and chopped her up with a cleaver. Then he called A., handed him the cleaver, and said, “From now on, this is how you solve your problems.”

Caught in the Act

To catch those two crooks, they set up a stakeout with Mr. Tom, who wasn’t too thrilled, Jake, the old cop, Lieutenant Stan, and a bunch of other cops from the VOT Brigade. They made a big show of picking up Tommy and taking him to the “station” (which was basically just around the corner) in a van decked out with all sorts of gadgets and surveillance gear, being sure that the bad guys were somewhere around, watching.

The Bathors show up, do something at the door, and quietly slip into the house without a peep. In the van, Uncle Jake lets out a string of curses and asks Tom, “Hey buddy, where are the dogs?” And Tom, as calm as can be, says, “Where else? They’re in the house, I gave each of them a bone!” He barely finishes saying “bone” when we hear from the house: “WOOF! GRRR!” “Ouch! HELP!”

The Pack

Here I think I should present Uncle Tommy’s two dogs: Thatch and The Sphinx, with a very strange dynamic between them and each with an absolutely fascinating personality.

Thatch is like this huge, 100-pound ball of shaggy black fur, a mix of Great Pyrenees, Newfoundland, and a touch of Australian Shepherd for some extra speed and craziness. He’s a sight to behold, super independent and only does things on his terms. But he’s got a soft spot for Uncle Tom, seeing him as a bit helpless and always ready to protect him. He’s the kind of dog that was born and bred to look out for the weakest in the pack. When Thatch stretches out, he’s like six feet long, and when he yawns, you could stick your head in there and still have room to eat a sandwich. Thatch isn’t really a biter; he doesn’t need to be. He’s more of a sitter. And when Thatch sits on you, well, you’re not going anywhere. You’re just grateful you can still breathe. He’s quite the talker too, always ready with a comment or a scolding for everyone. You can hear him a mile away; Uncle Tom doesn’t need an alarm or doorbell with Thatch around. A bomb could go off next to him, and he wouldn’t bat an eye. He sleeps like a rock throughout the fireworks, but if a butterfly flits by a couple of blocks away, he’s all ears. But bring out the vacuum cleaner and poof! As big as he is, you won’t find him; he’s terrified of that noisy thing!

Now, The Sphinx is a whole different story. Weighing in at about 70 pounds, he’s all muscle and bones with short fur, a mix of a boxer and who knows what else. The Sphinx just lounges on the couch all day, staring off into the distance. Only his eyes move, following Uncle Tommy’s every move. He only gets up for food, walks, and when nature calls. Only Uncle Tom can touch him; he absolutely adores his master. And if you try to take something from his mouth, well, good luck with that! At first, they thought he was deaf and blind. Then they figured he was a bit slow. But now they know for sure: he’s a philosopher, thinking about only he knows what, and he’s conserving his energy. When he needs to, he zooms off like an arrow, and you’ll never catch him. He’s a quiet one, and when he does bark, it’s more like a muffled little woof. But when, very rarely, he lets out a proper bark, you know he means business, and you better take him seriously. Tom was told to pick the most energetic puppy of the pack, the wild one, but instead he picked up the one who just chilled in the shade while his brothers ran circles around him in the sun.

Uncle Tommy is totally obsessed with them, and for good reason – they saved him, not the other way around! He’s always singing to them (which they hate), writing cheesy poems, and having full-on conversations. They actually look out for him and protect him, because let’s face it, this big guy is a bit of a klutz.

Caught in the Act (part two)

Back to the action: everyone in the van dashed towards the apartment.

Inside, they found The Sphinx in the living room with Mastur’s hand in his mouth, growling so fiercely that no one thought he had it in him, and Uncle Tommy couldn’t believe how loud the house philosopher could growl. Quick Hand had taken the bone from his mouth, and, naturally, Sphinx wanted it back, plain and simple.

In one of the bedrooms, Thatch was riding Cleaver, who was trying to grab his, well, cleaver, and whack the dog on the head. As he made a move, Thatch opened his mouth a bit wider and drooled all over the thief. When the man moved a hand, the dog put a paw on him – and the dog’s paw was as big as the man’s fist.

Epilogue

They caught them, interrogated them, and they confessed: how they operated, how they chose their victims, and who else was in the group.

But Uncle Tom also wanted to know what came over Mastur Bathor, also known as Quick Hand, to take a bone from a dog’s mouth.”Was that a bone, man?” says Mastur, totally puzzled. “I thought it was a cigar!”

And only then did Mircea understand what had happened, there, in the living room, between The Sphinx and the bad man: the so-called bone was actually a super tendon from a bull’s penis, called bully stick, very tough, brown in color. And the dear four-legged philosopher didn’t chew bones like a normal dog; he sucked on them as if he were indeed smoking a cigar!

Quick Hand, that sensitive soul, that animal lover, wanted to get the dog to quit smoking, and that momentary gesture was the end of the Bathor Clan!