Vicious Minds

by J. J. McAvoy

  “Take a quick gander in there after five minutes, they’re not going to be the full shilling, a bad dose of cold like that will have them banjaxed.” She spoke in a deep Irish accent. Which in translation of her slang meant after five minutes in the box they’d be broken…dead. After all, no human being could survive that cold.

  “Is that so? I must have miscalculated, although the dead are always wiser.” I took the ice cream from her.

  “Your oul fella would be proud of you. You’re throwing shapes just like him. Since you were an oul chiseler not once have I seen you acting the maggot.” She snickered at me, showing me her dentures.

  “Grams—”

  “What?” She yelled at the young woman that approached as we walked towards the back. The Veterans Day cookout was being held right outside her factory.

  “They want you to come cut the cake.” The woman addressed Ms. McGlinchy but was focused on me, offering a small smile.

  “No they don’t, you lyin’ little floozie,” she snapped.

  “Grams!”

  “Don’t Grams me. I am old, not blind. I see you making eyes at him. Don’t blame you, Ethan’s a fine thing, but you’re making a holy show of yourself.” Grams, despite her age and looks, enjoyed ripping people to shreds. She elbowed me, laughing. “Look at her face all scarlet. Leg it…and don’t lie about cake next time.”

  The girl ran off like dog from the pound.

  “You’re very effective, Grams.” I smirked, taking another bite of the ice cream.

  “Don’t get used to it. She’s got a face like a blind cobbler’s thumb, and that’s with her caked up to the sky. God only knows what she looks like underneath it all. No sir, ain’t nothing Mrs. Callahan about her.”

  “And if I just want to have fun?” I teased, watching my sister talking to the guards of some of the Italians who’d shown up.

  “Ain’t you hear me? She’s got a face like a blind cobbler’s thumb,” she repeated and if it was anywhere else, I would have laughed. “Besides, your time is coming, you don’t have time to be going out on a craic. Your oul fella was married by the time he got to your age.”

  “I work at my own pace.”

  “Uhmm…good luck with these muppets.” She patted my shoulder then walked to the lawn towards her family. Emily McGlinchy, Ms. McGlinchy, Gram; was one of the few people’s company I enjoyed. Maybe it was because unlike others, her family’s loyalty was steadfast. That and she spoke to me as if we were family. She was a smart old bat, which is why most of her family worked for me, but not in the old-fashioned family business, because they could end up in her big ice freezer too.

  Feeling my pocket buzz, I reached into my suit jacket and pulled out my phone.

  “Two days in row?” I said into the phone, glad she called anyway.

  “I’m in Chicago. And I need your to help kill someone.”

  This was a first. She never needed help in doing so before.

  “Who?” It was already a given that I would.

  “Emily McGlinchy, also known as Grams?”

  I looked over to the woman I just finished complimenting in my mind. “When?”

  “When and not why?” she asked. “She’s a friend of your family.”

  “I have family, not friends.” I knew she would not be asking me to kill acquaintances for the fun of it. “When?”

  “Tomorrow, the same factory you are at now, call her there tomorrow evening.”

  “See you then.” I said nothing else and hung up. My eyes focused on the old woman as she pinched her great-granddaughter’s cheeks.

  Depending on what Calliope told me, this could very well end up being a family massacre.

  * * *

  Calliope - AGE 25

  Chicago, Illinois

  Sunday, November 12th

  “With great power comes great responsibility,” I said as I laid on the conveyor belt holding the book over my head. “It’s said so much now it sounds like a cliché, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t think it sounds like cliché, I think it is officially considered a cliché.” Ethan entered the building from the side door, dressed in all black but not a full suit, just black button-down shirt and dress pants.

  I thought about it for a moment then nodded, looking back to my book. “True.”

  “It’s dangerous for you to be here.”

  “It’s worth the risk. Besides, I went with black bangs this time, it makes me feel very Angelina Jolie in Salt, what do you to you think?” I flipped the page.

  He was quiet, so I read.

  “You’re pissed off.” He observed. “Why? What happened?”

  I reached into my hair and took out my bobby pin sliding it between the pages as bookmark before getting off the belt. Marching over to him, I did my best not smack him. “You fucked up.”

  “Excuse me—”

  “You forgot everyone, everyone, hates the leader of the pack!” I snapped at him, but before he could speak, he grabbed my arm and pulled me under the conveyor belt as a wave of bullets flew into the factory, sparking as they clashed against the machines, then bouncing elsewhere. I crawled first under one of the machines towards my bag, grabbed it and rose under the crawl space.

  “Are they after me or you?” he questioned, rolling up his sleeves.

  “I thought my enemies were your enemies.” I unzipped the bag and pulled out a HK416 Airsoft AEG Rifle to hand him as well as a vest and a few magazines. “And here I was hoping the old hag would at least try to bullshit you before calling in her goons.”

  “I can’t hear you over the gunfire and your annoyance,” he dared to say to me as he put the vest on and snapped the magazines in place. I was sure he could hear me perfectly fine. “Why don’t you let it off your chest now, la mia anima?”

  “I’m saving your fucking life right now, or did you not notice?” I put the vest around my chest. “Old lady Grams was trying to pull a fast one, or a slow one depending on how you look at it. She’s been secretly supporting the Finnegan brothers taking you out while you’ve be working on the Moretti family and all those gathering to betray you the Italian side.”

  “I see.” He ducked when another bullet hit the outside of the machine we were now hiding behind. “But that still doesn’t explain your annoyance.”

  I glared at him and he stared blankly at me. I grabbed my machete and put it at my back, picking up another machine gun. “Do you know how hard it is to get a fucking day off as a mom? This was not how I planned my Sunday evening. I had a goddamn date.”

  If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he allowed this to happen so he could stop me without actually stopping me. Hearing the bullets had stopped I crawled out from the machine and came up just a little, looking at the steel shutters and the now shattered glass doors. Pointing my gun in that direction, I heard them as they stepped over the glass towards the door and opened it slowly.

  “What fuck are you doing?” Ethan’s tall ass stood up like a damn tree, firing directly at the door. But he wasn’t looking at the door, instead he was focused on me, his eyes narrowed and jaw set.

  “A date with who?”

  “Are you serious right now?”

  “Do I not look serious?”

  I couldn’t answer because they threw a smoke bomb inside. I pulled open the bag, tossing him a mask before putting mine on.

  “We’ll talk about this later,” he said to me and I rolled my eyes, standing up and leaning on the other side of the ice cutter.

  We stood quietly, listening as they came in. I closed my eyes, counting the footsteps. Two, four, six…eight…nine, ten, eleven. There were eleven. Opening my eyes, I looked over to Ethan who held up his hands he flashed five twice and then one. He counted eleven also. I nodded. He pointed to his knees and then his head.

  We needed a distraction and light. Reaching in my back pocket, I pulled out a flashbang. He nodded and counted me down.

  Three.

  Two.

  One.

&n
bsp; I threw it towards the door and the moment it went off we both came out and began firing. I shot out their knees, and he shot into their skulls. We spun around each other, shooting them down. They went down quickly, but it wasn’t just the eleven; another two came rushing in with a sound bomb of their own.

  Ah! Fuck. I sneered in my mask, feeling the bullet as it went into my shoulder.

  Ethan shot them both and looked over to me. I shook my head, tossing him my gun and pulling out the machete from behind me along with a handheld knife. Ethan shook his head, but I moved to the gap between the shutters and the glass door. He fell back to stand beside the ice-bagging machine.

  It was quiet, very quiet. I looked out of one of the bullet holes and saw two sets of headlights were shining on the doors, but I focused on the shadows.

  Five. I held my hand out to him.

  He held his gun out and the metal doors began to lift. Just as I suspected, they were all coming to see what was going on. I couldn’t see anything so I just watched Ethan and trusted my ears. He nodded slowly, very slowly, signaling their footsteps. I heard the broken glass crunching beneath their boots. He stopped nodding.

  I looked over to my right just as the man looked at me. He lifted his gun to me, and I cut off his hand and sliced across his face. I heard Ethan fire again, and I dropped down, cutting into the next man, and when I fell to the ground, I stabbed my blade through his nose. When I stood back up, ready for the next one, Ethan already had them down, blood pouring out of them. I looked back to see him walking my way. He took off the mask and looked me up and down.

  “The gun would have worked just fine without you going primal.”

  “I was working off pent-up frustration—” I stopped when I heard the engine to the car try to start, but fail.

  I looked over and Ethan lifted his gun. The man behind the wheel tried over and over again.

  “It is not your lucky day, mate,” I said to him.

  “Mate?” Ethan seemed amused, but I ignored him.

  “You’re outnumbered. Even if you have a weapon you are going to have to take us both out and that is not likely. Why don’t we call a truce?” I put my weapon down. “You tell us who sent you, we let you go.”

  Silence. Nothing.

  “Or he could fire into the windshield,” I reminded him, walking closer to the door. “The boss is pissed, but you can get back in his good graces…come on. I’m removing my weapons.”

  I took off my vest and dropped it, along with my belt.

  When I escaped the glare of the headlights and got closer to the car, I saw it was Grams’ grandson. He was teenager with black hair; he couldn’t be more than fifteen. He stepped out the car with a handgun pointed at me.

  “Teagan?” Ethan asked when he came out. “I’m sure you’ve been told that children should not get involved in grown folks’ business.”

  “I’m not a child,” he said, keeping his gun on me. “Who are you?”

  “A humble employee of the boss,” I said with a smile.

  “Well, he ain’t the boss anymore,” the idiot replied. “My Grams said it was finally time for our family to rise. The Callahan family has been using us for their dirty work for too long.”

  “Teagan?” I took a step forward. “Grams doesn’t like you very much, does she?”

  “What—”

  I snatched the gun from his hands and punched him in the face. He fell back against the car door. I put the gun to his lips. “The only reason you throw a lamb into to a lion’s den is if you want it to be slaughtered.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Huh? Frowning, I glanced over to Ethan. “Do they not teach poetic devices in schools anymore? That was pretty clear, wasn’t it?”

  “Where is your grandmother now?” Ethan asked him, ignoring my question. Fine. Work first.

  I shot him in the arm. “I suggest you don’t lie.”

  “Fuck! What about the truce?” he screamed and I glanced over to Ethan, amused that this idiot actually believed that. His face was as blank as ever.

  “Forgive me.” I removed the gun from his face. “You were saying?”

  “She’s at home.”

  “Thank you. And just so you know. We are the lions. You are the lamb: weak and defenseless against us. That was the point I was trying to make earlier.” I fired once into his skull before he could reply. His body slumped to the ground at my feet and I looked over to Ethan who stared down at him.

  “Do you need a moment?”

  His green eyes shifted to me and he frowned, obviously upset. “Who is it you had date with?”

  This again… now of all times?

  “Why don’t we go deal with the crazy old woman trying to threaten your family?” I asked him, picking up my shit and walking to his bulletproof Vision Mercedes-Maybach 6. Taking a seat into the passenger side, I lifted up my shirt to look at the bullet wound in my shoulder. Luckily it hadn’t hit the bone, but the bullet was still in there.

  “Leave it. I’ll take it out once we get there,” Ethan instructed as he sat in the driver’s seat. The inside of the car lit up once he put his hand on the steering wheel. He touched the home screen, calling the one of few women he could trust right now. He pulled out of the parking lot as the phone dialed.

  “Well, if this isn’t the surprise big brother, how can I help you beautiful—”

  “McGlinchy betrayed us.”

  She was silent for a second before exhaling harshly. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Send a clean-up crew to the McGlinchy factory, then burn the place to the motherfucking ground.”

  “Their family?”

  “Being handled now.” He disconnected before calling the second woman he trusted.

  “Ethan, I was next to Dona. I can’t see what happened in the factory; the cameras are down,” Helen informed him and he glanced at me. I smiled and gave him a peace sign. He focused his attention on the road.

  “Then I need you send me all the video you have of the McGlinchy family, as well as a private feed for their house, and shut down your side. I need access to their security feed.”

  “Do you need backup? My father is—” she asked.

  “Do only what I ask, Helen, nothing more.” He hung up. It was only when he did that I took out my phone, holding it towards the factory that was fading in the distance.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Some technology stuff,” I told him, laying back in the leather seat and closing my eyes, trying to ignore the pain in my shoulder. I could tell from the dull ache that it wasn’t a whole bullet; it must have ricocheted and split before hitting me. But the shard was sharp and kept cutting into my flesh.

  “How did you see this when I didn’t?” Ethan asked. I think this was his way to get my mind off the pain.

  “I barely saw it. Hell, it was luck,” I whispered, rubbing my eyes. “I had another job, and that person was friend of Grams. He was on the phone with her when I broke in. They’ve helping the Finnegan brothers skim off the top of the drug supply. She’s like us when it comes to patience and secrets. Her family works for you, but never in the trade, to make you think they aren’t interested but still loyal. She works through other people and she knows the Italians are getting rebellious. It’s in her best interest to support these two Irish brothers from Boston who also want to take over. She thinks they can put a dent in the Callahan name and then she can come in as a hero to all the people caught in the crossfire. If not for that one call, I wouldn’t have seen it.”

  “Would my parents have?” He wasn’t asking to compare; he wanted to know if they were watching him now.

  “I doubt it. Even if they were watching her, there was no way to see it coming. She made sure to be careful like us, walk close to the edge but not on it. She’s using her age and her past loyalty as a smokescreen. Besides, with the Finnegan brothers being as loud as they are now, they would most likely be looking into them. Who they are, what type of threat they pose…after all, Wyat
t is in Boston too. They’re working from the wrong end. They won’t figure out Grams was part of this until you kill her.”

  “With her gone, the brothers won’t have enough support to rise, will they?” he wondered, and I could see the beginning of a plan forming in his head.

  “It will take them a few days, or weeks, depending on how slow they are to realize they are alone now,” I answered, and he nodded, taking the exit.

  “How did you get this friend of Grams to talk?”

  I reached into my bag and handed him a disc. He nodded for me to put in the sound system. I did. Letting him hear the conversation, I tried to look for the volume because of the man’s screams, but I couldn’t see the controls.

  “It’s fine—”

  “AHHHH!”

  He slid his finger down the screen on the dash.

  “Oh, fancy. Are you rich or something, Mister?” I said mockingly.

  “Or something,” he muttered, and I yawned, closing my eyes. “This is dated yesterday?”

  “Which is why I called yesterday and said I just found out.” I leaned the seat back. “When I snuck in her place this morning to check old financial records—she keeps them in actual books, so old school—in her family study, I left a clue to let her know you were on to her.”

  “Why?”

  “Because a cornered mouse can only hurt themselves. It’s one thing to do something in the dark, when you think no one is watching. It’s a whole other game when the sun comes up and the light is on you.”

  “And if you’re not strong enough, the light will burn you,” he agreed. “Thinking I was onto her, she’d be bound to make mistakes quickly. Her fear must have been obvious, which is why Teagan came in on this. He’s her youngest and favorite grandson; he loved her too. But he’s always been the weakest of their family. And what else do weak people do but try to prove they aren’t weak? She didn’t send him; I bet he overheard and decided to come himself to prove he was strong, that he could protect her. He smirked when you said his grandmother didn’t like him. He thought he was fooling you, and most likely was going to pretend to join us and then betray us again.”