Paradise Burns

by J. P. Sumner

  ‘In the words of the Virgin Mary: come again?’

  I cringed to myself at having said that – that’s something Josh would’ve said. I swear, if I don’t stop talking to him, I’m gonna turn British myself!

  Pellaggio leant forward in his chair.

  ‘I said, you will not be paid, kid, because you didn’t get me the fucking deeds!’

  ‘I killed the guy you wanted me to kill. It’s not my fault he didn’t have some documents you wanted.’

  Manhattan stepped in, clearly wanting to exert some kind of authority while in the presence of his boss.

  ‘By taking the contract, you accepted responsibility for getting those papers. They were important, and you failed. Therefore you will not be paid.’

  I looked at him, then back at Pellaggio.

  ‘There’s something else, too,’ I said, changing the subject. ‘I’m pretty sure I’m being tailed by parties linked to Ted Jackson’s employer. I was being followed before I took him out.’

  Pellaggio and Manhattan remained silent.

  ‘The point I’m trying to make here, is that someone knew I was in town, and why, only a few hours after you gave me the contract.’ I let the words hang there for a moment, so they could sink in. ‘Does that not strike you as a little odd?’

  ‘Are you suggesting we have a rat in our midst?’ said Manhattan.

  ‘Finally, he gets it,’ I said.

  ‘You got some nerve, kid,’ said Pellaggio. ‘Coming in here, telling us you’ve failed to do what we paid you to do, then accusing us of not having our house in order.’

  ‘I’m not making any accusations, merely stating the facts.’

  Silence descended upon us. We were at a crossroads. I’d fed him the lie about Jackson not having the papers, which he seemed to believe, given how pissed he was. In turn, he’d explained why I wouldn’t be paid for the hit, which I honestly don’t care about at this stage, but for the sake of keeping up appearances, I was feigning annoyance. I also pointed out they probably have a traitor in their ranks.

  The problem now is what happens next.

  I got my answer when the big Axe Tattoo Guy walked into the room. I heard the door open behind me, so I glanced over my right shoulder to see who it was. I looked back at Manhattan.

  ‘There’s really no need for this to escalate,’ I said.

  ‘You will get those deeds, Mr. Hell, or you will disappear and become just another angel in Heaven’s Valley,’ he said, with no effort to disguise his threat.

  I heard the big guy move a few steps closer behind me.

  ‘Jimmy,’ I said, standing up. ‘We both know I’m no angel.’

  I kicked my right leg behind me, flipping the chair backward and into the big guy. I spun around, more concerned with this threat than anything Jimmy Manhattan could do to me right then.

  The big guy had caught the chair, and simply threw it to one side. We stood, staring at each other, both weighing up our next move.

  ‘So,’ I said. ‘What do they call you?’

  ‘Pick Axe,’ he replied.

  ‘Why Pick Axe?’

  He simply pointed to the tattoo on his forehead. I started laughing, which both confused and angered him further.

  ‘You know that’s a tattoo of a Fire Axe, right?’

  He stood, watching me laugh.

  ‘There’s a massive difference between the two things. They’re look nothing like each other, and have to drastically different applications. The guy who did you that tattoo ripped you off.’

  He reached behind him and produced a small, six inch, T-shaped tool.

  I stared first at his hand, then at the increasingly psychotic look on his face.

  ‘See? That’s a pick-axe.’

  He growled and launched the pick axe through the air, aiming directly for my head. I happen to have outstanding reflexes, and was able to avoid the projectile. But only just. It whizzed past my ear and I heard it impact the back wall. I assumed I wasn’t lucky enough for it to hit Manhattan or Pellaggio by mistake.

  In the split second I focused on moving out of the way of the flying object, Pick Axe surprised me with how much speed he could build up so quickly for a man of his size. He charged me, and at full speed picked me up and threw me against the wall. The surprise, coupled with the force, meant I had no time to defend, I just knew I had to prepare for the impact.

  Unfortunately, the wall I crashed into wasn’t a wall. It was a one-way mirror. And I didn’t crash into it, I crashed through it.

  NINETEEN

  I went flying through the mirror and into the area behind the bar. In a matter of seconds, glass and bottles crashed everywhere, covering me and the bar staff in shards and alcohol. I landed on the floor behind the bar, so I couldn’t see the chaos that had been caused. But I could hear it. The music stopped instantly, replaced by screams and the sound of a hundred plus people stampeding into each other and toward the door.

  One of the girls working behind the bar was crouched down just in front of me, a piece of glass about two inches long sticking out of her forearm. Blood was leaking down her hand and she was shaking uncontrollably.

  I was lying on my side, facing the bar. I rolled over onto my back to get a look at the hole I’d just made in the wall. Pick Axe didn’t follow, but I assume that meant he’d left the office through the door and would be coming out from behind the red curtain any moment.

  I tried to stand up, but right then it wasn’t happening. Pain was shooting up and down my back, and I could feel blood running down my face.

  ‘Oh, you son of a bitch!’ I muttered through gritted teeth.

  The bar staff had moved away and joined the stampede for the door. One of the guys had helped the injured girl, which I was glad of. I don’t like collateral damage if it can be avoided. This wasn’t their fight.

  I managed to get to my feet just as Pick Axe appeared from behind the curtain. I was dizzy, and my head was banging so hard I thought Van Halen was playing the intro to Hot For Teacher on my skull.

  Everything was a bit blurry, but I had enough about me to survive. For now, at least. Pick Axe walked purposefully over to me, his arms outstretched, ready to grab me and inflict more damage. I jumped over the bar, into the increasing space on the main floor of the club. The odd person was lay on the floor between me and the door, seemingly crushed in the panic a few moments ago. I didn’t have time to worry about them now though.

  I had at least two broken ribs. My back was going to be a black and purple mess for a few days, and blood was gushing down my face and obscuring my vision. I wiped it clean with my jacket sleeve and blinked to clear my eyes as much as I could.

  I needed to get to my guns.

  I looked around quickly, looking for anything that could help me, but I was on my own. Any debris was over by the bar, and I couldn’t have stayed there because I was trapping myself in.

  Pick Axe adjusted course and headed toward me once more. At least now I had more space to use.

  The thing about fights, I mean real fights, is that they’re nothing like what you see on TV. There’s no choreography, no drawn-out, back and forth battle and the good guy doesn’t always win. In reality, it’s quick, it’s scrappy and brutal and it’s won by the guy who doesn’t fight fair. You might not like it, but it’s the dirty truth. People who fight by the rules don’t live to tell you about their victories. You read about them in the obituaries . . .

  Pick Axe charged me, snarling at me with murder in his dark eyes. That’s a whole lot of momentum bounding toward me. I timed it just right, and slid on my knees to the left as he was close and threw a straight right punch, aimed directly at his balls. I felt pelvic bone under my fist. I don’t care how big you are, that will always drop you.

  Pick Axe was no different. He keeled over pretty much instantly and sank to his knees. He skidded across the floor and came to a halt about ten feet away, bent over in agony.

  I tried to stand up, but a wave of dizziness and nausea washed ove
r me and I fell forward. I could probably add a concussion to my list of recently sustained injuries. I pushed myself up with my arms, bringing my knees up to support me. My vision was blurry still. I glanced over at Pick Axe, who was trying to get to one knee himself, and shaking his head to clear his cobwebs.

  I staggered to my feet and made my way over to him. I thought about grabbing his neck from behind and choking him, but I looked at the size of it and figured there was no way I had enough juice in my arms to successfully kill him like that. Instead, I jumped and dived forward into him like a spear, bringing my right elbow up and crashing it down into the base of his skull. I heard the crack, and he sprawled forward as I landed half on top of him in a bloody mess on the floor.

  I was breathing hard, which hurt like hell because of my broken ribs. I rolled onto my back and looked at the body next to me. He was dead. I knew he would be, because I’d just shattered the part of his spine at the top that connects to the base of the skull, severing the spinal cord and causing instantaneous death.

  It took me a minute, but I got to my feet and slowly made my way back over to the red curtain. I pulled it to one side and reach down to retrieve my guns. Both were still there, which was a comforting sight. I put one behind me in its holster, and cocked the other one and held it steady in my right hand.

  I walked back into Manhattan’s office. Pellaggio was still behind the desk. Manhattan himself had moved around to the front, as a gesture of protection.

  I walked over, picking up the chair I kicked. I stood it up and sat back down at the desk. I rested my hand on the top, holding the gun.

  ‘Now, where were we?’

  TWENTY

  My entire body was screaming in pain. I couldn’t tell what hurt and what didn’t. My face was expressionless, but inside I was using every ounce of strength I had left to stay conscious and focus on my situation.

  ‘Let’s get something straight,’ I said to Pellaggio. Well, I think I said it to him. I could see three of him, so I was playing it safe and talking to the middle one. ‘I don’t give a shit who you are, or how much of this city you own.’

  He seemed calm, despite the fact I was sat in front of him looking like a car crash victim with a gun in my hand.

  ‘You arrogant sonofabitch! You’ve cost me millions!’ said Pellaggio, standing and slamming his palms onto the desk in frustration and anger.

  ‘Shut your mouth before you give yourself a heart attack, you old prick,’ I replied.

  I was in no mood for another lecture. Right now, medical attention and a shot of single malt were one and two on my list of priorities.

  ‘Let me save you the trouble of giving me your mafia boss rant,’ I began. ‘You’re in way over your head. You didn’t properly research Jackson’s involvement in all this. You have no idea what you’re up against. That was your first mistake. Your second is that right now, you’re dangerously close to underestimating me, which will not end well for you.’

  There was silence in the room. Manhattan hadn’t moved or said anything since I sat down.

  ‘My advice to you - cut your losses and move on. Find somewhere else to expand your empire.’

  ‘Jimmy,’ said Pellaggio, after a long silence. ‘Fix this.’

  He pointed a finger at me as he spoke. I’ve got to hand it to the guy, he wasn’t easily intimidated. I can understand why – guy like him, head of a crime syndicate with half the city on his payroll and more money than half the country put together. He’s probably been building this empire of his since he was a kid. People quake at the very mention of his name. Why would I worry him?

  Manhattan looked at me. Then he looked at my gun. He remained calm and I could see him planning his next move.

  ‘Adrian, I don’t think you fully grasp the position you’re in. Mr. Pellaggio requires the deeds to that land. Life will become very difficult for you if you don’t do what we’ve paid you to do. You say Jackson is dead? That’s fine. But you need to find a way to get your hands on those deeds.’

  ‘Jimmy, let me save us both some time. You can’t make me do shit. We’re done here. You can keep my fee, I don’t care. That corpse out there was probably the best guy you had, which means we both know there’s no point sending anyone else after me. I see either of you again, I will kill you. And it will be slow, painful and horrific.’

  Manhattan stared at me. He believed me, but I could see he was conflicted. Probably because his boss told him to handle it, and he did anything but.

  ‘There’s nowhere for you to hide in this city where we can’t find you,’ he said, tapping into some hidden reserve of confidence. ‘If you start down this road, it will be the end of you, Adrian. I can promise you that. Mr. Pellaggio doesn’t forgive, or forget. You should know that better than anyone – it’s the very reason you’re here.’

  ‘So, what, you’re gonna hire me to kill myself?’ I scoffed in disbelief. ‘You fucking idiot. Take a look around, Jimmy. You hired me because I’m the absolute best at what I do. There’s no-one to bring in who can take me on, and we all know you’ve got no-one on your payroll who can do it. How’s about you quit with the empty threats, accept defeat like a man and call it a day, yeah?’

  Manhattan glanced at Pellaggio, who was visibly livid. I suspect more so at the fact he knew he couldn’t win.

  ‘Let me explain something to you, kid,’ said Pellaggio, his voice was condescending and full of anger, which he was struggling to restrain. ‘You need to fucking appreciate exactly who I am. You talk about my payroll – my payroll includes the police. And the local officials. And a lot of hired help up and down the West Coast.’

  ‘Am I meant to be impressed?’ I replied.

  ‘It’s not just this city you can’t hide in,’ he continued. ‘It’s the state, the time zone, the whole fucking country! You cost me millions and I’ll make you pay, you arrogant sonofabitch!’

  I appear to have touched a nerve with the big boss. And like a shark smelling blood in the water, I went in for the kill.

  ‘Well, that’s all terribly impressive,’ I began. ‘Now let me explain something to you. I’m the man you think you are. You keep going on about me having nowhere to hide from you. What makes you think I’d be hiding? I promise you, if I ever want to settle a score with you, I’ll knock on your front door, ask for the dickhead of the household and look you right in the eye before I destroy everything you’ve created. I will wipe you off the face of this earth, and I’ll smile as I do it. You can pay whoever you want to come after me, but as a favor, I’ll give you some advice to try and save you the money: ask around. You’ll soon find that most people out there know that I’m not one with whom to fuck. Now, from here on out, I’ll stay out of your way, you stay out of mine. Sound good to you?’

  They both stared at me; Manhattan looked afraid, whereas Pellaggio just looked angry. But neither one of them replied.

  I said, ‘Okay then. I’m glad we’re all in agreement.

  Content that was the end of the discussion, I stood and backed away, keeping my gun aimed at them until I reached the door. Manhattan had perched on the end of this desk, his hands clasped on his lap. Pellaggio was staring a hole through me. He hadn’t said anything, but I could almost smell his anger. He obviously wasn’t used to not scaring people or getting his own way.

  I left the office and went through the red curtain, back out into the club. Now everything had settled, the place looked like a warzone. I re-holstered my gun and stared at them one final time through the hole I’d made in the mirror. Then I turned and walked out of the club.

  I turned left out of the doors and down the street. The street was filled with people who were in the club, along with many others who had stopped to stare at the scene. In the distance, I could hear sirens.

  I turned into an alleyway and broke into a jog, anxious to put some distance between myself and the club.

  God, I needed a drink.

  TWENTY-ONE

  I woke up on my hotel room floor. I don’t r
emember getting here, and I had no idea I’d been out for so long until I’d checked my phone and saw it was turned two p.m.

  I stood up and sat on the edge of the bed. I felt like I had the worst hangover in history. And I’ve had some real stinkers in my time, let me tell you.

  I tried to stretch, forgetting for a moment about my broken ribs. The shooting pain that ripped through my torso soon reminded me.

  I massaged my temples with my right hand, then groggily looked around the room. It took me a moment to realize I could hear the shower running in the bathroom, and the door was pushed to.

  Had I left it on last night when I got back here? I really didn’t remember. My concussion was pretty bad. I suppose getting thrown through a window will do that to you.

  I staggered over to the bathroom door. As I reached for the handle, I heard the shower turn off. Then the door opened and Clara Fox stood there, wearing a towel.

  I didn’t understand. And I couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say at that moment. All I could come up with was:

  ‘Huh?’

  It ain’t Shakespeare, I’ll admit.

  ‘Morning sunshine,’ said Clara. ‘You look like shit.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘You look like you’re wearing a towel.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Oh, okay. Any particular reason?’

  ‘I just got out of the shower,’ she said as she padded, barefoot and dripping, across the room toward the mirror on the wall.

  She picked up a hairbrush, which I’m guessing she brought with her, and began combing through her long, wet, dyed blonde hair.

  I massaged my temples again, in the hope it would stimulate my brain enough to form actual sentences and questions.

  ‘Yeah, what I mean is, why are you showering and walking around in a towel in my hotel room?’ I asked, still a bit dumbstruck.

  She turned to look at me.

  ‘You got your ass kicked last night, you know that, right?’ she asked.

  ‘You should see the other guy,’ I replied.