by Jonas Saul
The door buckled and then tore from its mounts as the bus shoved through it.
Halfway down the warehouse, a line of four naked women stood five feet apart.
What the hell is Arkady doing?
Darwin hit the brakes and swerved to miss the women. He couldn’t run down women that Arkady had abused. He knew that’s what Arkady was bargaining for. He had to play into Arkady’s hands. He was after the leader and anyone else who got in his way, not the abused women.
The bus skidded sideways as it slid toward the four women, its wheels slick with rain.
“Get out of the way,” Darwin shouted from the driver’s side window.
He tried to brace himself as he lost control of the bus.
Then the unthinkable happened. Something caught on the back wheels, ceased its slide and made the bus tilt dangerously. The sound of twisted metal screamed as the bus fell onto its side and crashed down with a heavy thud, knocking Darwin into the window he’d just been sitting next to.
The blow to the ground knocked the wind out of him. He tried to breathe and for the first few seconds wondered if he would.
He pulled himself upright, got air moving into his lungs again and started to climb to the top of the bus, now the right side seats.
At least the underside of the bus will act as a shield if the police start shooting at me.
He wondered how many of the four women he’d hit. There wasn’t enough time for him to see if they got out of the way.
He lifted his head through the open door of the bus and looked around quick before dropping his head again. No one took a shot at him.
What if Arkady had everyone pack up and leave after Dolph had taken him to the mall? He decided that they wouldn’t have had enough time.
A cell phone rang somewhere in the building. Darwin looked over the edge of the door again and saw nothing. No movement, no one attacking the bus. Nothing.
He took a chance and crawled out of the window at the top of the bus.
The cell phone rang incessantly.
He hopped onto the floor and ran to the back of the bus in order to not be seen by the open door of the warehouse. Multiple sirens blared outside and vehicles pulled in front. He knew that half the Greater Toronto Area police would show up. He’d be arrested and once his story checked out, he’d finally get back to Rosina.
From where he stood, he couldn’t see any of the four naked women. Either they were under the bus or they’d gotten away.
He stayed low and ran for the hall in front of him.
A cop identified himself and called out on a bullhorn for everyone in the building to come out with their hands visible.
A quick look in each room convinced Darwin that Arkady and his crew had left the building. Frustration led to anger. How could they leave so fast?
The cell phone began ringing again.
He ran back down the hall until it sounded like it was coming from above. He looked up and saw the phone on the metal walkway on the second floor.
He wiped blood from the side of his face and ran for the stairs. He needed to make sure Arkady was gone before he directed the police to whatever evidence they could gather.
The man on the bullhorn outside announced that they were entering in one minute if the occupants didn’t start exiting.
Darwin climbed the stairs two-at-a-time, turned the corner and ran down the walkway until he hovered over the cell phone.
It rang again.
He picked it up and hit the send button.
“Darwin, the Blade, you’re there. Welcome back.”
Arkady.
“Where are you?”
“Long gone.”
“How? You couldn’t be that quick.”
“Darwin, I thought I told you … I play chess. Everything was a strategic move.”
“What are you talking about?”
The bullhorn sounded outside, giving him twenty seconds.
“I knew from the start that you’re friendly with the FBI. I also knew that I couldn’t hand you over to La Cosa Nostra. I wanted to kill The Blade myself.”
“Come and get me then, asshole. Come kill me.”
“I already have.”
Darwin could hear noise like air rushing past an open car window. Arkady was mobile.
“How so? I’m still breathing.”
“Let me check my watch,” Arkady said. “In forty seconds that building will be destroyed, and I’m assuming you’re still standing where the phone was placed. That means you will die along with any evidence you thought you could lead the authorities to. Except, of course, for the Triad member in the back who has been killed by hundreds of cuts to his body by a man known as ‘the Blade.’ Everything leads back to you. Also, I left you four hookers. In addition to the murder charge and the anger the Triads will direct at you, you’ll have human trafficking charges as well.”
Darwin headed for the stairs. “Why not just shoot me? Why go to all the trouble of that initiation and setting up meetings in the mall?”
“I needed time to get to your wife. This is personal. I knew she wasn’t dead and I aim to be the one to kill her.”
Darwin almost stopped walking, but reminded himself that he had less than thirty seconds left.
The man using the bullhorn outside said they were coming in.
“You don’t have my wife and if you do I will personally put you on the Judas Cradle and cut your fucking body in half and then piss on the remains of your face.”
Arkady laughed. “I’m sending a picture to the phone in your hand.”
Darwin made it down the stairs and ran for the bus. He didn’t have enough time to go out the front of the warehouse and persuade the police to fall back and he didn’t know if the rear had any unobstructed exits. The bus was his only chance.
He pulled the phone down and clicked on the picture. He could barely tell what he was looking at, and then it all came clear.
It was a white box that resembled a cooler of some sort. Inside the box was a human head.
Greg Stinsen’s head.
He brought the phone back to his ear. “You motherfucker. This madness has got to stop. Greg Stinsen was a good man. A friend.”
“Somehow Rosina escaped my men, but we’ll find her. She can’t be far. My men in Jacksonville are only minutes behind her. It’s over Darwin. Die peacefully. At least it’ll be fast. You betrayed the Bratva, so now your flesh will burn. Goodbye. Oh, and checkmate.”
“I’m not playing chess, asshole,” Darwin whispered into the phone as men with assault rifles started filing in the front of the warehouse. “I’m playing checkers and I just kinged up on your side of the board. I’m more powerful than you bargained for. I’m coming for you and every single family member associated with you and all of your men. The Russian Mafia have a new enemy. Remember my name. It’s the Blade. Oh, and Arkady, sleep with one eye open.”
Darwin tossed the phone away, climbed up the side of the bus, and rolled his legs around and inside the open door.
“Everyone get down,” he shouted. “There’s a bomb. The place is going to blow.”
He dropped into the bus as something exploded behind him. The bus jerked a few feet, and then another explosion roared throughout the warehouse. The bus jerked again.
He tried to position himself between two seats at their base, but a larger explosion tore through the building. The shock wave hit the bus and knocked it so hard that Darwin smacked his head in the same spot the metal lunchbox hit earlier.
The last thing he saw were bright orange flames as they licked across the roof of the warehouse. There was another larger explosion and then everything went black.
The Scythe
by
Jonas Saul
Chapter 1
Yuri Pavel sat in his palatial home in Toronto, sipped his vodka neat, and stared at the TV as it broadcast the hell falling down upon his territory.
“I will kill them all,” he shouted at the television.
He p
icked up his plate of pirogue—Russian pastry shells filled with spicy pork and topped with a dollop of sour cream—and took a large bite.
“We are live at the scene of yet another raid on the Russian Mafia’s strip club called The Mistress,” newswoman Juliet Lawrence said into the camera, a black microphone in her hand. “Inspector Carl Michaels, what can you tell us about the current raids?”
A strong man with a jutting jaw, standing in full RCMP regalia, with his hands clasped in front, moved closer to the microphone.
“After the explosion at the factory in Mississauga the other day, we have ramped up our attack on the Russian Mafia. Just as we did in Ontario and Quebec years ago against the biker clubs, we’re raiding all their known establishments and hideouts.”
“And what are you hoping to find?”
“As it stands now, Ontario is the money-laundering capital of organized crime in the entire world. We have dealt with the Italian Mafia, the Triads and the bikers for many years, but the Red Mafia are smarter and stronger. They don’t seem to care who gets hurt. We lost a few good men in that explosion in Mississauga. Our goal is to shut them down and in doing so, we’re also looking for Arkady.”
“Just Arkady, Inspector? A man with one name?”
He shook his head. “We only have the name he’s known to go by.”
The newswoman pulled the mic back to her mouth. “Why him specifically?”
“Our wiretapping, in conjunction with the FBI, has led us to believe Arkady was behind the explosion in Mississauga.”
“Can you tell us more about what happened at the warehouse in Mississauga and why there is a publication ban?”
“All I can say is that the RCMP and the FBI are working together to catch as many of these Russian made men as we can and process them through the system. We will deport them, jail them, and, or, press charges that will stick. This has to stop.”
“Are there more raids scheduled to take place?”
“Yes, but where and when won’t be released.”
“Last question, Inspector. The media has talked about a Canadian man by the name of Darwin Kostas, also known as The Blade. Lately he has led his own crusade against the Mafia. Rumor has it that Kostas was in the warehouse when it was destroyed. Can you verify that for us? If not, can you tell us where he might be and how he’s involved?”
“I have no comment on the whereabouts of a private citizen. Thank you.” The inspector walked away from the screen.
“There you have it. This week’s raid on two warehouses in Toronto and a shipping company in Quebec at the Port of Montreal, and now we have this strip club, The Mistress, as another Russian Mafia establishment. Behind me, the raid is coming to an end as the female dancers are being escorted out to RCMP vans. My name is Juliet Lawrence—”
Yuri turned the TV off. He wanted to throw his glass of vodka at it.
“What have you done, Arkady?” he whispered.
After refilling his glass, he buzzed the front door and asked Sergei to come up to the den. Minutes later there was a soft knock on the door.
“Enter.”
Sergei Ivankov opened the door, slipped in and closed it behind him. Dressed in his finest suit, as always, he almost busted out of his jacket. The barrel-chested Sergei had been a prize fighter in Russia for twelve years. Yuri had visited Russia seven years ago and offered Sergei a deal he couldn’t refuse, flying him over to act as his personal security. He became known on the streets as The Scythe.
“Come. Sit.”
For a big man, Sergei walked lightly across the carpet and chose to stand on the far side of the couch. He crossed his arms and waited.
“Sit,” Yuri insisted.
“Sir, I throw up at the smell of pirogue. I need to stand back here.”
Yuri waved off his comment. “We have a problem.”
Sergei waited.
“I need to find out if Darwin Kostas survived the explosion at the warehouse. If he is alive, I need to have him located.”
Sergei nodded. He wasn’t much for words.
“If so,” Yuri continued, “I need to talk to him. You understand? Do whatever it takes.”
Yuri sipped his drink. That was one thing he loved about Sergei. He could explain everything he wanted without interruption. If Sergei needed more he would ask at the end.
“Also, I want you to arrange a sit-down with the Italians and the Chinese. We will have two meetings. The first is to be held at the golf course convention center. Have the address distributed through my restaurant on Queen Street. The second will be held three months from now. Let the Italians pick the spot for that one. Send word that I want Arkady there, too. Got it?”
“Yes, boss,” Sergei said.
“Good. But before the first meeting I need to know the whereabouts of Darwin Kostas. I want him brought here alive. Understood?”
Sergei adjusted his suit and made a small nod of his head.
“Good. Get back to me as soon as you have something. It is time to end all this fighting. This war can’t continue.” He looked up at Sergei as he downed the rest of the vodka. “I have a plan for Darwin that he won’t resist. Then, when the media find his body, along with Arkady’s, the raids will stop and our business can continue as usual.”
He got up and headed over to refill his glass.
“Go, Sergei. We are out of time. Set up the meeting with the Italians and Chinese and find me Darwin Kostas. He needs to die painfully and publicly. For the sake of the Italians and the Chinese.”
Chapter 2
The emotional swamp, the absolutely desperate mental existence that had been Darwin Kostas’s sleeping state began to wake. He felt the air on his skin, the breath in his nose and the pain, mostly the pain.
The nightmare came in snippets. The warehouse, the initiation rite and the explosion. Arkady setting him up to have the Chinese angry at him and killing the hookers. Darwin jumping in the bus. The explosion, mostly the explosion came to him. The fear, hoping he would walk away to be with his wife again.
The horror came back and he wanted the release that sleep offered. If only he could go back under. Stay under.
Thoughts of Rosina brought him up.
Moaning did nothing to ease the pain. It only brought on a flurry of movement around him. The presence of people moving to and fro close to him made his head ache. He wanted to tell them to stop, but his mouth didn’t work. He willed his eyes to open, but something held them closed.
What the hell has happened to me?
“He’s trying to wake up, Doctor.” A female voice.
“Okay, that’s good.” A firm male voice. “Remove the tape from his eyes.”
The tape was torn from his right eye, then his left.
“Dim the lights,” the doctor said.
Darwin blinked. He opened his eyes to slits and waited.
“Take your time, Mr. Kostas. It’s okay.” Then, after a pause. “Nurse, remove the tube from his mouth. He may want to say something.”
Darwin closed his eyes and swam backwards to avoid the pain, the harshness of being alive. It had felt so good to be under, so light. He had dreamt of holding his wife’s hand and walking in fields of sunflowers basking in the sun.
He drifted back out and let the flow pull him down until he was gone.
Darwin opened his eyes slowly and scanned the hospital room. Night pressed against the window to his right, darkening the curtains. A single light on a table shined in the corner. Beside it sat a uniformed RCMP officer, a magazine in his hands. He hadn’t looked up yet. Darwin took the chance to examine the room.
No flowers. A desolate hospital room, ugly blue walls, medical cabinets with glass doors and supplies within. Nothing comforting. He looked down the length of his body and saw all the right parts where they were supposed to be.
The pain in his head had subsided some since he tried to wake earlier. He moved his fingers and toes without hesitation.
Good, everything still works.
He rolled
his head over the pillow. The cop stared at him, the magazine on his lap.
“I’ll get the doctor,” he said.
The cop walked to the door, opened it, whispered something to someone outside and then closed the door. He retook his seat and stared at Darwin.