Detective Davis walked through the store and made his way to the spiral staircase. As he walked by a broken display, three things stood out to him. First, the two displays were in the back of the store; this wasn’t a random, spur of the moment heist. If it had been, the thieves would’ve broken into the displays at the front of the store. Second, the items that were stolen had the highest value of anything else in the store. The thieves knew what they were going after. Third, it was clear that the thieves had moved effortlessly and precisely. They wasted no time in getting in and getting out, meaning they had planned when they were going to do the heist and how to do it.
“I don’t want to speculate, but this looks like the work of some amateurs,” a young cop, someone John didn’t know, told another officer who was taking pictures of the counters.
“Rookie, you see the crime scene, but you don’t see what it’s telling you. They shattered the glass in the display to give the impression that it was amateurs who had acted on impulse.” John shook his head in disgust. At this point, he was craving another cigarette. Luckily, he reached the spiral staircase and walked up the metal steps to the second floor. His irritability subsided with each step away from those idiots and their stupid theories.
At the top of the balcony, John looked out over the floor filled with officers and civilians. “Little fish in a big pond,” he said to himself with a smug look on his face. He turned around the corner.
John started to walk down the hallway, toward the manager’s office, when in the corner of his right eye something caught his attention. All the people in the store wore dull, lifeless clothes, except for one individual. Her back faced him, but he knew who she was. With her silky blond hair and red dress, it was the secretary from the bank.
What is she doing here? John questioned himself as he turned his attention toward her. She was filing paperwork in a black, four-tier filing cabinet. Does she work here, too? He thought as he started walking toward the secretary. Detective Davis looked out the office window at the rest of the officers who were interviewing witnesses. The team that was working there that day was the same team that had worked at the bank heist. Had anyone questioned her on what she had seen? Or more importantly, why was she at both crime scenes?
“I didn't expect to see you here,” Officer Davis said to the secretary, whose back was still facing him. “You work here also?”
The secretary, ever so delicately so not to make a sound, closed the file cabinet. She turned around and smiled at John. That warm, welcoming smile and her inviting hypnotic blue eyes caught him in awe again. She looked more beautiful on this day than she did that day at that bank. She didn't speak, though. She just stared at him with those mesmerizing blue eyes.
“Pardon me, miss, but I think I asked you a question. What are you doing here?” This time his tone was sterner.
The secretary continued to smile and look back at him and then turned and walked toward her desk, located to the left of John.
“Excuse me. Did you hear what I said?” John pushed, irritation becoming evident in his voice.
A red rotary phone that rested on the secretary’s desk began to ring. She picked up the phone and instead of answering it, extended the handset out toward John. He cautiously walked toward the secretary. What the hell is going on? He grabbed the handset and brought it to his ear. “Hello?”
“Hello, Johnny. I’m so glad to hear your voice again,” the caller replied in a sweet, nurturing voice. It was a voice that he hadn’t heard in years.
A cold chill ran up his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck rose. He was lost for words; he was frozen in awe. After what felt like an eternity, he was able to muster up a stammered reply to the caller. “M-M-M-Mom?”
“Yes, son, it’s me,” Katherine began. “How have you been?”
“How could this be? You’re dead. You died years ago.” His mind started spinning wildly as he tried to comprehend what he was experiencing. He began to feel weak and nauseous. He placed his hand on the secretary’s desk to prevent himself from falling over.
“Johnny,” Katherine said in her calm and soothing voice. “Physically I may not be here, but my spirit has always been with you. And now that you found me, son, I will never leave you.”
“Mommy, what happened, on the day you died?”
There was no reply on the phone. John stood anxiously, waiting for a response. “Now’s not the time to talk about that, John. In time, all your questions will be answered. Right now I need you to leave this place and look out your window.”
“What? I don’t understand, Mom?”
“Look out your window, son,” Katherine repeated, then hung up the phone.
“Mom, wait!” John cried, but it was too late. He stared at the handset as he pulled it away from his ear. “Look out the window,” he repeated out loud, confused by his mother’s request.
The secretary grabbed the phone from John and placed it back on her desk. She looked back at him and, in her angelic voice, calmly told John, “Wake up, Officer Davis.”
John looked at her puzzled, trying to figure out her and his mother’s orders.
“Wake up,” she repeated, her voice becoming distant. As she repeated herself again and again, John closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was back in his room
***
John sat up in his bed. What was that? I’ve never had a dream like that. What was Mom doing in there? What did she mean? All these questions raced through John’s mind. Then, one sentence replayed in his head. He could hear it in his mom’s voice. “Look out the window.”
John glanced over to his bedroom window. He stepped off his bed and walked to the white, four-paned windows to look outside. The moon was bright, illuminating his entire backyard. He could see the silhouette of a man walking to their barn. “Dad,” John questioned out loud.
John looked at his clock, which read 1:32 a.m. What is he doing? John wondered. I better go and find out. It must be connected some way. It can’t be a coincidence. He raced to his closet to grab his red and black flannel jacket. The moonlight will be more than enough light for me to reach the barn without a flashlight. John reached the doorway of his room and turned around. He ran back to his nightstand, opened the drawer, and grabbed his necklace. “Thanks, Mom,” he said to the gem as he placed the necklace around his neck and ran out of his room.
John reached the bottom of the staircase and decided to exit through the front door. He didn’t want to risk his dad seeing him exit through the back door. He opened the front door slowly and felt the cool Nevada air hit his face. The old wooden door had a creak to it whenever it was opened. But Albert wouldn’t be able to hear the creak because of the wind blowing.
The giant moon is big and bright tonight, John thought as he descended down his front porch steps. He made a left around the corner of his house. The breeze had picked up slightly, kicking up some sand against John’s leg. John was a quarter of the way to the barn when he finally reached grass. The dew felt good on the bottom of his feet, better than the rough, grainy sand.
The dead silence and calm of the night was unnerving for John as he got closer and closer to the barn. His heart rate picked up. His palms got sweaty as the anticipation of what he might find rattled his nerves. The barn itself was old and worn. The vibrant red paint had become dull from exposure to the wind and sun. The white trim around the barn started to turn brown and had a rustic look to it. The walls that once held the barn together were falling apart, allowing light to slip through the cracks.
John approached the side of the barn, creeping carefully past the hedges to avoid making any loud noises. He got close to a slit left in the wall and peeked through it. The three single light bulbs that hung in the barn showed John that his father was nowhere in sight. In the middle of the barn was a mound of dirt that his dad had dug up. John decided to get a better look at what was going on.
As John entered the barn, he realized that his dad had dug a giant hole in the ground. At the least,
it was six feet wide. John walked up to the hole and looked down. The hole was about five feet deep, give or take. At the very bottom of the hole rested a cylindrical door with a wheel attached to it. What is that? John thought as he stared at the submerged hatch.
Before John could make sense of it, the hatch at the bottom of the hole made a loud noise. The wheel began to spin open. John’s eyes became big with excitement as he started to back pedal away from the hole. He turned around and sprinted out of the barn as fast as he could. His heart rate picked up again as he ran around his house, up the porch, and through the front door, not even worried about the sound the door would make this time. He ran up the stairs and into his room.
John looked out into his backyard and saw that the lights were still on. What’s going on in there? What was that in the hole and what’s behind that metallic hatch? I need to go and find out. John’s mind was now racing at super speed. He felt invigorated by the mystery in his backyard. He felt like he was a detective, and there was a mystery to be solved. He gripped the gem that hung around his neck. “Thank you, Mom,” he told the gem. “I can’t wait to see you again.”
***
Albert climbed out of the hole that he had dug. After a long night’s work he was finally done. Tomorrow I got some business to do, he thought. I need to get some more bags. There’s a lot more down there than I expected. But first I need to get some sleep. He pulled the ladder out from the hole and placed it on the ground. He turned off the lights in the barn and grabbed his flashlight. As he exited the barn and entered the cool Nevada night, he looked at his house, which was illuminated by the moon and stars. “One day, son,” he said to himself. “One day.”
Chapter 3
Toma and Daichi sat in the narrow cold hallway that served as both walkway and waiting area for what inmates at the Nevada State Penitentiary called the “Lion’s Den.” Toma and the rest of the pack had sat in this hallway countless times over the past two years. But still, until this day, he hated sitting in that dull, gray, lifeless hallway that seemed to suck the life out of him. The terrible lighting that flickered reminded him of a hallway leading to a dungeon or a godforsaken place. But what he hated the most about that hallway was how small it felt. It made him feel claustrophobic, like he was trapped. He envisioned himself living freely in the world, not locked up inside this hellhole. He assured himself that if he ever had to live his life in these concrete quarters, he would choose not to live at all.
The consigliere of the organization lit another cigarette. The built-up anxiety of sitting in that confined space bothered him to his core. Toma wouldn’t agree, but the wait time for someone entering the Lion’s Den was a lot shorter than someone visiting a regular inmate. Having the group of guards enlisted to watch over the Lion’s Den on your payroll also helped shorten the waiting time.
The crew that worked the Lion’s Den was a separate entity than the rest of the staff at the state penitentiary. After Martin “The Lion” Lazzero was indicted eight years earlier by the State of Nevada, it was decided that a separate wing should be built to house the boss of the most powerful organized crime group west of the Mississippi. State of Nevada officials thought Martin’s influence and connections might be too strong to keep him amongst the masses. So they kept him cooped up in solitary confinement with no one to talk to on a daily basis but himself and the guards of the den.
Toma had just finished his cigarette and lit another when the colossal metal door leading into the Lion’s Den swung open. Out stepped a man as big, if not bigger, than Daichi. “Mr. Tamura, Mr. Daichi,” the man started. “Sorry for the delay. Mr. Lazzero is ready to see you now.”
“Thank you, Officer Dye,” Toma replied as he killed his cigarette on the end table separating himself and the Jaguar. Toma stood up, placed his blazer and fedora back on, and made his way down the gloomy hallway with Daichi following right behind him. “How’s the family, Officer Dye?”
“They’re good, Mr. Tamura,” Officer Dye replied in a fidgety tone.
“Relax, Howard,” the Tiger reassured the nervous officer as he approached him. He placed his hand on his chest. “You all work very hard here, and you all do a very good job in ensuring the safety and comfort of Mr. Lazzero. I’m sure you worked as fast as you could to get me through to see the Lion.” His calm, cooling voice allowed the officer to breathe a sigh of relief. The officer’s tight muscles began to relax.
“Thank you, Mr. Tamura. Please go ahead. Mr. Lazzero is expecting you.”
Toma gave the young officer a nod and a pat on his chest. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a brown envelope. “Here, Howard, you can split this month’s payment amongst you and your men. Get your wife something nice. Hear a birthday’s coming up soon, right?”
“Umm…yes…yes it is, sir.”
“Excellent. Maybe one of these days we can join you all, and we can really have a celebration.” The Tiger shot a grin at Officer Dye that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. As calm, courteous, and respectful as he was to the guards in the Den, there was still some mystery surrounding Toma that left uneasiness in the rest of the officers, especially whenever he spoke of their families.
“Yes…yes that would be great. One of these days,” Officer Dye was able to muster up with a smile that hid his worried mind.
Toma and Daichi walked through the metal door; they both were about to enter the Lion’s Den. “I know I’ve always told you I rather be dead than be locked behind bars, but if they can guarantee me a place like this, I wouldn’t mind serving time,” the organization’s consigliere confessed to Daichi. Everywhere Toma, top advisor to the Lazzero organization, went, Daichi followed closely by. The Jaguar was Toma’s bodyguard, and he took pride in ensuring his mentor’s safety and wellbeing.
“I’m always amazed when I come through that metal door,” the Tiger continued. “Martin’s holding cell is nicer than some of the lofts back in Las Vegas.” Martin’s holding cell was nothing like the inmate cells in the rest of the penitentiary. In fact, it was closer to a suite than a holding cell.
The walls in the cell were white, not gray and lifeless. There were no bars attached to the windows. The cell included ten windows, and even a sky-light to allow more than enough sun into Martin’s living quarters. A bookshelf filled with books sat up against a wall, accompanied by a nice wooden rocking chair. In the middle of the room sat a giant table, filled with papers, where Martin ate and studied. Next to the bookshelf stood a cabinet, filled with wines and other pleasures that Martin could enjoy throughout the day. The back of the room contained three doors. One led to Martin’s chambers, another led to his private bathroom, and the third to an outdoor yard area where Martin could get some fresh air.
Daichi was in awe by the size and lay-out of the room. The paintings on the wall, the private quarters, and the yard all took him by surprise; this was not what he was expecting. “I would have to agree with you.” He leaned over and whispered to Toma, “I wouldn’t mind serving time also if I were granted these living conditions.”
This was his first time visiting Martin. In the past, only Toma and Anthony, the third member of the pack, were allowed to enter. But, because of this pressing matter, Martin requested that Daichi should come this time also.
Toma made his way to the 70-year-old man, with gray thinned hair that his scalp grasped on to desperately. He had worn, wrinkled skin that was more bone than skin. Dark blue veins protruded and ran up his arms. He sat in his rocking chair, staring out into his yard through weary eyes. Toma placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Hello Lion.”
The man smiled through yellow-stained teeth and looked up. “Hello, Tiger,” he answered as he stood and embraced his one-time prodigy. “Jaguar, thank you for coming,” Martin continued as he embraced the towering Daichi. After breaking his embrace he looked around, concern written on his face. “Where is Leopard?”
“You know Anthony. He—”
“Hates to be back in jail,” the Lion interrupt
ed, finishing Toma’s sentence. “Well, when you see him, tell him I said you’re only visiting, and it would be nice if an uncle got to see his nephew once in a while,” Martin said with a huff.
“I’ll be sure to relay the message, boss,” Toma replied with a slight bow.
“Well, let’s get to it. I’ve got a full schedule planned today,” the elder Lazzero said as he made his way to the table in the center of the room.
What could you possibly have planned today that’s so important, in a place like this, of all things? The Tiger thought as he watched the Lion sit down at his table. Martin pulled out a newspaper article and tossed it across the table from him. The two pack members walked up to the table and gazed down at the article. “I’m going to take a wild guess and assume you’re here to inquire about Mr. Brown and the contents of the safe he found,” Martin said
“Well, actually,” Toma began as he pulled out his chair and took a seat, taking his blazer and fedora off in the process. “We found Mr. Brown and the safe, or what’s left of it. But, my query is regarding the envelope that was in the safe.” Toma turned the newspaper back around toward Martin and pointed at the photos on the front page. Mr. Brown and a group of police officers stood next to a pallet, stacked as high as them with money. The next photo was a close-up shot of an envelope that had a lion’s head, Martin’s insignia, stamped onto the seal. “What’s in the envelope, Martin?”
“That’s what I’ve always liked, appreciated, and respected about you, Toma. You always view the big picture of a situation. Anthony would only be concerned with the money in the picture. The envelope would fly right past him without the slightest of intrigue. You would’ve made a great boss, but—”
“My blood prevents me from taking that mantel.”
“I’m sorry about that, Toma. If I could change that, I would. But, that’s why you are my consigliere. You stand toe to toe with Anthony.”
Toma smiled. “Thank you, Martin. You’ve been like a father to me. You took me in years ago, you’ve raised me, and you’ve taught me everything I know. I’m indebted to you.”
Of Kings And Pawns Page 3