I headed to the back of
the condo building to enter through the garage under it and not have to deal
with the security guard again.
I made my way to the
stairwell and tried to make it seem like I lived in the building anytime I saw
anyone who actually was a resident, but I was dressed in sweatpants, and a
ragged jacket. I looked like I should be out on the corner collecting change
not in a garage full of Lambos and Buggatis, but none of the people getting in
or out of the cars paid any attention to me.
I headed up the stairs
all the way to the thirteenth floor. By the time I reached the door for the
hooker’s unit I was drenched in sweat and struggled to breathe. It was at this
moment I realized I should stop smoking and maybe cut back on my drinking.
I tried to compose myself as best as I could,
pulled out my silenced Walther PPK, and entered the apartment.
“I should have known it
was you,” the hooker stared at me, a glass of white wine in her hand, “messing
up my carpet was not enough, but you also must shoot my paying clientele?”
I aimed the gun at her,
“sit down.”
“Last time I checked I
lived here and I do not believe you can tell me what to do, not when your gun
is so small.” She sipped her wine and didn’t move, “He is still lying on the
floor in the bedroom go handle whatever business you have with him and leave.
Whatever money he has on him is my payment, so you can also forget any thoughts
about taking it.” She slowly sat down on her couch and picked up a book and
began to read it paying no attention to me.
I couldn’t tell if she
was setting me up, or if Carracci was really actually just a client. I went
into the bedroom.
Carracci was lying on
the floor holding his leg above the fresh wound; the hardwood floors were covered
in his blood. I didn’t have much time to get him to talk before he bled out. I
knelt down next to him.
“Hey there Alexi.” I
smiled and put my pistol to the side of his head.
“Fuck you man.”
“Come on now, you had
to expect this. You obviously read up on me, you should have known I’m good at
what I do.”
“Fuck you. I ain’t
telling you shit man.”
“I just need to know
how you knew to come after me.”
“Fuck you.” He spit on
me. I shot his kneecap.
“Who spits on people?
Is that how you became a made man? You spit your way to the top?” I asked as I
wiped the saliva from my cheek.
Carracci was silent as
he stared down at his two bum legs, I watched as his left hand slowly moved
into his pocket. As he pulled a knife out I shot a hole through the back of his
hand.
“Now stop moving and
stop spitting; just talk, or I’ll finish off the last good extremity you have
right now.” I stood up and stepped on his right arm and aimed down at his hand.
“Our
boss had some files from a rival family stolen and saw was a target and you
were assigned to take me out.” He cried out.
“Good,
now who is your boss?”
“We
have a new godfather. Giovanni Devoni has been sick and gave the reigns to one
of his sons I’m assuming.” I applied more pressure on his arm, “That’s all I
got, I swear.”
“Who
stole the files?”
“Some
broad who works for Franklin Williams, the suit in charge of delving out orders
for some new organization trying to move in on the established families: she took
everything yesterday morning.” He closed his eyes and waited for his death, “I
swear that’s all I got.
“Ok.”
I took my foot off of his arm and started to walk out of the room.
I
stopped in the doorway of the bedroom, “Oh yeah, Alexi, I forgot one more
thing.”
“I
ain’t got anything else man.”
“My
friend Jack wanted me to ask you something as well.”
“Who?”
I
turned around and put a bullet through his forehead.
I
walked back into the living room, the woman hadn’t moved from her spot on the
couch behind her book. I headed to the door, It felt good that I didn’t have to
kill her as well, though I really wish I had some money so I could have her.
“I
hope you know you that you will be paying my floors to be cleaned and my
bedroom window to be fixed.” She said without looking away from her book.
“Now
why would I do that?”
She
placed her book onto her naked legs and looked at me, “Sweetie, you do not know
who a person in my position sees daily; I will tell them you were here and that
you killed him.”
If
she wasn’t sitting there with the subtle lamp light illuminating her every
naked curve and perfection I would have killed her. Though, I’m sure leaving
her alive couldn’t have made my situation worse. I walked over toward her and
pulled a pen out of my pocket. I pulled the book from her lap intentionally
grazing her bare leg with my knuckles. Her skin was as soft as a fresh snow
fall in the high French Alps: a direct result of the most expensive creams and
moisturizers.
I
turned to the book to the front cover page and right under the title Moll Flanders I jotted my name and
number down. I placed the book back onto her lap this time I rubbed her leg
with my entire hand, she bit her upper lip as I walked away from her toward the
door.
“I
will be in touch,” she paused and looked down at the book, “Jason. I will call
you with the bill.” She smiled and went back her book.
I
walked back out into the pristine hall way lined with expensive oil paintings
climbed into the gold gilded elevator, and headed down to the lobby.
As
I stepped outside I felt my phone vibrating in the pocket of my sweatpants. It
was a number I didn’t recognize.
“Hello?”
Horns of passing cabs blared and people walked along the avenue going in and
out of stores and restaurants, but no noise came from my phone. “Hello?” I once
again questioned my outdated iPhone.
The
young raspy voice of B.R. spoke after a few more moments of silence, “He
called.” He sounded nervous.
“Ok,
I’ll head there now. Thank you.”
I
slipped my phone back into my pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Not a
single smoke left so I tossed the empty pack into the street. I had some time
to before I had to get to the garage on 12th Ave, a trip that
shouldn’t take more than a 15 minute cab ride, so I walked over to High Heels
for a drink.
As
I approached the entrance a familiar face stood outside smoking.
“Can
I get one of those?” The blonde bartender reached into her jacket and pulled
out a pack handing me one of them. “Thanks.”
We
stood in silence puffing our cigarettes as the smoke rose up past the neon sign
for the club.
“Some
people were in here asking about you.”
“Who?”
She
looked at me her green eyes studying me: probably wondering if she can get more
money out of me.
“I
don’t have any more money on me, but if you can tell me what you know it would
help.”
She
was silent for a moment, maybe she saw the concern in my face so she spilled
the beans, “I’m not sure who they were. A woman with black, hair grey eyes: never
saw her before. She saw me talking to you on the cameras, so she may be someone
important.” She hesitated, “she pulled me to the back room. I was threatened. I
shouldn’t even be talking to you.”
“Any
names?”
“I
can’t,” tears began to roll down her perfect face pausing for a moment in her
dimples before proceeding on their journey. I placed my hand on her shoulder; I
hoped that it would some sort of comfort. I wasn’t sure. My skills with women
weren’t really fantastic; though the hooker in the condo seemed to like me— I
really hoped she would call.
“She
fucking threatened my son. I shouldn’t be talking to you.” She turned from me
knocking my hand off her shoulder, “I know you’re in danger, but I had to tell
them you were looking for that Alexi guy.”
Yeah,
I’m sure it was the Devoni bosses trying to get to me before I got to them they
probably figured a woman would be able to talk answers out of another woman
easier than sending in muscle.
“It’s
ok.” I said trying to fill my voice with some sort of empathy. “Did you tell
them anything else?”
“I
told them you paid me to go in and distract the guard, but you came out without
seeing the guy you were after.” She wiped her tears away, and flicked her
cigarette into a snow drift.
“I’m
sure they knew I didn’t see him. They’ll know I saw him now. Once all is said
and done I’ll be back with a payment to show my gratitude.” I didn’t want to
pay her, but a child being threatened was one thing I wasn’t a fan of. I’m like
Tony Montana in that way: no women or children. “They won’t hurt your son, I
promise.” She smiled at me and headed back into the club.
I
forgot my need for a drink instead I waved down a cab and headed to the parking
garage. It was near Kathy’s casino so I would talk to Mr. Williams and head
there to figure out why my love life had fallen apart— priorities.
When
I arrived clouds blotted out the full moon leaving only street lights to light my
way as I entered the garage.
I
scoured the place looking for the limo, finally finding it on the top level. I
guess I could have saved twenty minutes by asking B.R. where the car was
parked, but it was too late now. I knocked on the window of the Limo I couldn’t
see in, but I knew he saw who was there. I pulled out my snub nose and expected
I would have to break the window and rough up Williams a bit, but the door
swung open. I slid in to the back seat placing my briefcase holding my sniper
rifle between my legs.
“I
knew you would be seeing me sooner or later.” He seemed less nervous when
outside of the Southside even with a gun pointed at him. He tossed me a rubber
banded stack of money, “finial payment for Carracci.”
He
took off his $2,000 Cartier prescription glasses and began wiping them with a
Louis Vuitton pocket square.
“My
boss and I sincerely apologize for the breach in our records that gave you
away. He asked that I give you this as reparation in hopes you will continue to
work for him moving forward.” He picked a brief case up off the floor and
handed it to me, “please put the gun away.”
I slipped the gun back
into my jacket pocket and popped open the case, four stacks of money stared up
at me.
“That
is one hundred thousand. My boss really wants to thank you for your loyalty
over the last two years.”
“Who is he?”
“I
cannot give you that information. He wishes his identity not be known to anyone
but a few select members of the organization.”
I
would have gotten angry if it wasn’t for the Franklins staring at me. Instead I
switched subjects, “Who’s the secretary?”
“Yes,
I see Carracci informed you on who stole the files.” He wiped a bit of lint off
of his charcoal Dolce and Gabbana suit jacket, “This is your next job actually.
Her name is Cynthia Bates, or that is what she went by. She had false documents
and a false background. Everything was set up and planned by the Devoni family
to try and discover the inner workings of my boss’s organization and his
identity.” My heart nearly leapt from my throat when he handed me a photo of a
grey eyed brunette like the one the bartender described and the one I was
dating until a week prior.
“Ka
. . . Kathy.” I stuttered, my hand holding the photo shaking.
“You
know the woman?”
“I
was seeing her.” I took a deep breath to try and calm my nerves, “Her name is
Kathy Bellini. That’s the name she gave me, knowing she was working one over on
you she could be putting one over me too.” I noticed a crystal decanter full of
whisky, “Mind if I have a drink?”
“Surely.”
He reached over, poured me drink and passed it over to me, “Macallan 62 year
old single malt scotch whiskey.”
I
grabbed the glass from him and took a small sip, it tasted like money.
“We
are going to need you to locate her and find out who she passed the information
on to. Which we assume is the new head of the family; a person we have yet to identify.”
“I
was looking for her for something unrelated.” I finished my drink and he
reached over and poured me another.
“Thirty
thousand a bottle.” He smiled showing his perfect set of teeth.
“Tastes
like it,” I stared down at the glass, “any ideas where to find her?”
“Unfortunately
no, the Devoni family took extreme care with her identity.” He frowned slightly
for a moment, but probably thought of the wrinkles frowning causes and wiped
the emotion off of his face, “she had all the paperwork and when the team
employed to run through employee’s backgrounds looked into her history it was
all accounted for.”
“Ok.
I’ll be in contact with you.” I downed the glass of scotch, “hang on to this
for me”, I pointed to my sniper rifle, picked up the briefcase of money, and
left the car.
As I headed out of the
garage my head spun. I didn’t know if it was from the liquor or from the news
that the person I have been in search of was Kathy.
“The bitch informed the
Devoni’s of my job to kill Alexi. I’ll take care of her and take care of the
family head after.” I thought I mumbled to myself.
“Excuse me sir?” B.R.
said softly as he grabbed me by the shoulders to stabilize me.
“Kathy: I have to kill
the woman.” I said in a slight haze.
B.R.
guided me to the curb and sat me down, “Breathe, I need to go get Mr. Williams.
I hope your talk with him went well enough and I still have someone to drive.”
I
didn’t respond. I sat and tried to get my bearings together.
“Ok,
sir. I will see you.” He started to walk away, “and lay off the booze I can
smell it on your clothes.” He headed to the stairs.
“Hey,
B.R.,” he turned and I tossed him the stack of money I had in my pocket, “Thank
you.” He smiled and vanished into the stairwell.
I
finally gained my strength back enough to stand and I headed back into the
Salem Bay night.
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