Of Kings And Pawns

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Of Kings And Pawns Page 7

by Michael Oshita


  Something told him that the answer he sought was behind that door. His eyes seemed to gravitate toward the wooden folding closet doors. John looked down at the red gem that donned his neck. Thanks, Mom. I will finally get my answer, and thank you for guiding me through the darkness. He gave the gem a kiss and tucked it back inside his shirt. John walked across the room toward the closet, his breathing getting heavier as he reached the door. The tension mounted as he grabbed the closet door and flung it open. At first nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Clothes were hung and shoes sat on the bottom of the floor. But tucked behind a shoe rack, a cardboard box lay.

  The young detective reached for the box and pulled it out. It was heavy, filled with a lot of things. He parted the flaps, exposing the contents of his dad’s cardboard box. He stared into it with uncertainty. Papers filled up the majority of the box, as did newspaper clippings and photos. At the bottom lay a black leather box with the words “C. L. Puma” embroidered into it.

  John reached in and pulled out a newspaper clipping that read, “Man Discovers Subterranean Safe Behind Home.” What is this? he thought as he began skimming through the article. The safe that the man in the article, Mr. Brown, had found sounded exactly like the one John had found in the barn. Every detail, including the submarine hatch that led to the money resting on a wooden pallet, matched. The next newspaper clipping John grabbed from the box read, “Man Who Discovers Safe, Found Dead at Home.” John dropped both newspaper clippings. His mind began to race. Is my dad on a wild hunt for these safes? Did he kill Mr. Brown? Is all this money his?

  In a panicked state, John tipped the box over and dumped all the contents out on the floor. He dropped to his hands and knees and began skimming frantically through all the loose papers. His mind began spinning more and more, and he started to feel nauseous. He lost his legs from under him and fell to the ground. The entire room began spinning around him as he tried to wrap his mind around all that he read and has seen so far.

  Who’s my dad? Who am I? What did my dad do in his past life? John lay on his stomach, sprawled out on his father’s floor. His breathing became heavier. The black leather box had opened when he dumped the cardboard box on the floor. There were pictures in the box that scattered all over the wooden, creaky floor. He picked up the first picture and looked at it. It was a black and white photo of five men. All wore nicely pressed suits. The first man was elderly, a lot older than the rest. The next was a thin Japanese man with a warm and welcoming smile. The person in the middle was a bulbous man with a cigar in his mouth and a drink in his hand. Behind all the men was a tall Native American man who stared ahead with a serious look on his face. The last man was Albert Davis. He stood there with a giant grin on his face as he held a cigar in one hand.

  The next picture John picked up was in color. It was of him and his family. They looked like they were on vacation somewhere. He couldn’t remember where this picture was from. As he examined it, his heart dropped. Behind his family, hidden in the back, was the name of the place they were staying at… Home Hotel. It was written in bright red lettering, just like in his dreams.

  “This is the answer,” he finally mustered as he gazed at the picture. “This is where she died.” He began shaking and his breathing turned heavy as he became overcome with emotion. He screamed in anger and anguish as he dropped to the ground and curled up into a ball. He gave out another yell. “Why?!” he screamed. “Mommy, why?!”

  “Because you needed to know, my son,” came a voice from inside the room.

  “It cannot be,” he whispered to himself. He stopped his crying and slowly brought his head up to look at the doorway. Standing there was Katherine.

  “Hello, Johnny,” Katherine said in her calming voice. It now sounded normal, not far out in the distance like in his dreams. “Now you know the truth, son.”

  John stared back at his mother with a confused look on his face. He stood up in awe, trying to make sense of his mother standing before him. “What is this? Am I still dreaming?”

  “No, John. Since you have discovered the truth, and with the help of the gem around your neck, you have set me free. I told you I’ll always be with you and now I am.” She walked up to him and placed her hand on his face. The warm touch made him realize that this was real. She was actually standing in front of him.

  “Mommy,” he said in relief as he embraced her and began to cry tears of joy. “Wait till Dad comes home.” Instability at home, disconnect to the outside world, and a fractured mind… feeling overcome with emotion had finally pushed his psyche to a place it had never been before. The culmination of all the unrest his mind had to endure has now led the fifteen year old to not only see and hear his Mom in his dreams but to see her in reality as a hallucination.

  “Son, only you can see me,” Katherine began to explain as she stroked the side of John’s head, comforting him in the process. “You saved me, son. My spirit was trapped in limbo all these years and thanks to your help you have set me free. Now all of your questions will be answered.” Katherine pulled herself away from John and looked him in the eyes. “I need you to put all these items back in your father’s box and come with me,” she ordered. “You have a lot of questions, and there’s not enough time to answer them all right now. We need a quieter space for me to explain everything.”

  Chapter 7

  “Whose safe do you think this is?” Anthony asked with exhilaration as Daichi began turning the hatch door.

  “I’m not too sure, but I’m just glad that we finally found one,” Toma replied as the three pack members stood at the bottom of a hole that measured six feet wide and five feet deep.

  The gigantic bodyguard grunted loudly as he gave the hatch door one last turn and flipped the door open. The putrid smell of the metallic tomb hit the three members in the face, causing them to take a step back and cover their noses as their eyes watered. Anthony moved forward slowly and flashed his light down the hole. “Well…let’s go get our money.”

  Anthony led the way down the ladder into the hole followed by Daichi and Toma. When they reached the bottom of the storage container, he began to chuckle in euphoria. Finally, he thought, all this running around, and I will finally get what was taken from me by that stupid, old man. The three pack members raised their lights up and were in awe by what they saw. A pallet stacked with money as high as Daichi, lay in front of them.

  Toma walked to the pallet slowly, and with each step, he inspected the stash from top to bottom. The money was neatly stacked and wrapped tightly with a clear plastic sheet. Tiger approached the stack of money and saw an envelope sticking out at the top of the stack, secured in place by the plastic wrap. It was the same kind of envelope that came with the safe Mr. Brown had discovered. He grabbed the envelope, which read, “To Puma.” “Carmine,” he whispered under his breath. “This is Carmine’s safe,” he declared in disdain, as he turned to Anthony and Daichi.

  “Open it up and read what it says,” the underboss ordered as he walked over to Tiger’s side to view the letter.

  A lion’s head was stamped on the seal of the flap. Toma peeled back the fold and pulled out the letter inside. He began to read it out loud.

  “To the Puma,

  If you are reading this, Nephew, then I have already passed.

  Standing before you is a last parting gift, from me to you; 10,500,000 dollars to be exact.

  Use this money wisely, Puma. You’ve done a lot for me, and you’ve earned every dollar that lies before you. Don’t use it all living this life that you’ve had. This is your chance to start a new life with your family. Take my advice and get out of here.

  Until we meet again,

  For family first and foremost

  The Lion”

  “Spineless rat,” Tiger said in disgust as he crumbled the letter, threw it down, and spat on it.

  Anthony stared at the pallet. “How much money did Martin said he left for us?”

  “He said he left around five million dollars for eac
h of us.”

  “Why did Martin leave this piece of trash more money than us?”

  “Well, Carmine was Martin’s golden boy before we all started,” Toma replied. “He probably did more for him. Possibly, helped him bury all this money—that’s why he knows that there are safes buried throughout the southwestern United States.” Toma paced around the container, looking around with his flashlight at what else might be inside.

  “And that’s how he repaid Martin? By flipping on him and opening up like a book to the FBI. I’m supposed to get more money than him! I’m blood to Martin, too. I’m the underboss to this entire organization! That worm deserves nothing!” In a blind rage, Anthony drew his gun from his holster and fired six shots into the pallet of money, causing the two other pack members to fall over on the ground for cover.

  “Stop it, you fool! One of these days you’re going to get us all killed with your hotheadedness! What if a bullet had ricocheted and hit one of us?”

  “What are you going to do about it, Toma?” the underboss asked with a smug look on his face. He lowered his gun and began walking toward him. “I’m above you, and I’m entitled to all of this money. Know your place, Tiger. You are a speck in this organization. If Martin didn’t hold you in such high praise, you’d be another schmuck working back at the casino instead of holding a title like consigliere.”

  Toma stared back at Anthony, rage beaming in his eyes. He took a deep breath and calmed down. “I’m not going to do anything about it, Leopard. But, I know one thing.” Tiger leaned in close so the two leaders of the organization’s noses could kiss. “If you didn’t have Lazzero blood flowing through your veins, you would be in a hole like this right now. You’ve been protected and coddled from the first day you got here. You’re not equipped to run this organization because of your temperament. One day, Anthony, you will find out the hard way, and I pray that when that day comes, I am there to watch you fall.”

  “We need to move the money,” Daichi said calmly, stepping in to separate the two high-ranking men who were unwilling to back down from one another.

  “Get to it then,” Anthony barked as he turned to Jaguar. “You too,” he ordered as he turned his focus back to Toma. He walked back to the ladder at the entrance. He grabbed the duffle bags that they had tossed down the hole and tossed them toward the feet of Tiger and Jaguar.

  “It would be faster if you helped us,” Toma said as he grabbed one of the bags.

  “It’s okay,” Anthony replied as he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “I can wait. See you both outside.” He laughed as he reached into his pocket and grabbed a cigarette.

  ***

  Martin sat in his favorite rocking chair, overlooking the yard in his concrete abode. Growing up, his favorite game as a child was chess. He loved the strategy. The motto of always being one move ahead of your opponent was something he translated into how he ran his business. Through that, he had become a successful, powerful man. However, as Father Time caught up with him, his mind no longer allowed him to stay moves ahead of his opponents.

  That’s how I got stuck in this rat hole. I couldn’t foresee Carmine turning on me, and I didn’t do the necessary steps to safeguard my freedom. There are not many moves I have left in this game. Martin swirled around the rock glass that he held in his hand and opened up the wine that rested inside of it. He took a sip of his wine, leaned back in his seat, and gazed into the yard. He watched a bird flying freely in the open world; how he yearned for that freedom once more.

  Martin glanced down at the table to his left. The end table was filled with notes, scribbles, and newspaper clippings—all there to serve one purpose, helping him remember the location of his safe. Six years earlier he had set his pack loose in search of their four safes. But, little to their knowledge, there was one more: Martin’s safe. He was hesitant at first to let them know about his safe. Part of it was that he still held hope he would be able to get out of prison. But at his last parole hearing, he was denied any possibility of being set free. With that, his dreams and hopes were crushed. He was trapped, —a mouse stuck in a maze with no way out.

  Part of Martin would’ve gladly kept the whereabouts of his safe a secret. He would pass away knowing there was a chance no one would be able to find and spend all the hard-earned money he’d worked for. But, there was one factor that he couldn’t account for, and that was Carmine. That traitor is still out there, and for all I know he might have beaten the rest of the pack to the safes. Hell, he might have even killed them if they crossed paths; he’s capable of doing that, too.

  Had I known the whereabouts of Puma, I could've died with the location of my safe being a secret. But I'd rather have the remaining members of the pack have my money than him. Why I had to make Puma in charge of filling up those safes? He pounded his fist in frustration on his armrest. I'm just thankful he doesn't know the exact locations; it gives the rest of the pack a chance to catch up to him.

  Martin swirled his cup once again in his hand and smelled the sweet aroma from his wine. It was cheap wine that he drank in his cell. After a while, taste buds couldn’t differentiate vintage wines from the cheap ones one could buy at the local supermarket. He tilted his head back and took another sip from his glass. Officer Dye entered his living quarters. “Excuse me, sir, I'm sorry to bother you, but your Sunday paper has arrived.”

  “Ah, Officer Dye, how nice of you. Thank you very much for bringing my paper,” Martin replied, standing up from his chair and walking over to him. “How's the family, Officer?” the patriarch asked as he placed his hand on the burly man’s arm.

  “They're good, sir. Thank you for asking,” the officer replied, putting his head down in respect to the entrapped boss.

  “I'm glad to hear that, Officer. Would you care to join me for a glass of wine? It isn’t the best stuff, but it will do.”

  “No, thank you, sir. I'm still not done with work.”

  “Suit yourself, Officer. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me,” he replied with a spine-tingling grin.

  “Okay, thank you, sir,” Officer Dye replied as he slowly backed his way to the door and exited the living area.

  Martin grabbed the newspaper that was left on the table and walked back to his rocking chair, glass in hand. I need not fret, he thought. I’ve entrusted Toma and the rest of the pack in finding the remaining safes. They are ruthless and methodical in their methods and, with a stroke of good luck, they have crossed paths with Carmine and disposed of him already. I’ll just wait for their next report; hopefully, it can be an early Christmas present for me.

  I don’t like that Anthony hasn’t enlisted Mr. Griggs and his men to assist them in finding the safes, though. I was anticipating he would have gone with them, and he could be my eyes and ears. Anthony is a loose cannon, a rabid dog. His hubris will lead to his demise one day. I can see that Anthony and Toma’s patience toward one another are wearing thin. Maybe it’s time I enlist Mr. Griggs for another task regarding my pack.

  Martin picked up his newspaper; his mind needed a break. He loved the Sunday paper, especially the funnies. It allowed him to take his mind off his work. It was harder to run his organization within the confines of the penitentiary. Anthony lives his life thinking he is in charge. He’s merely a figurehead. They are all puppets, and I am their master. My strings spread long and wide.

  Martin turned the newspaper to the funnies and took another sip of his wine. He began reading, chuckling as he went along. There was very little to find amusing in this hellhole. He was halfway through the first page when it hit him. He dropped his glass of wine in shock and grabbed the paper with both hands, pulling it in close to his face to give the comic strip his full attention.

  He gazed upon a giant red barn in the background of a comic strip. The visual trigger sparked a memory, hidden, in the depths of his mind. “Goodsprings,” he whispered as he stared at the paper. He looked out the window and back down to the comic strip. “Goodsprings,” he yelled in ex
citement.

  Officer Dye came running down the hallway and back into the living quarters. “Is everything all right, sir? I heard your glass shatter.”

  Martin gazed back at Officer Dye. “Yes. Yes, it is, Officer. Everything is going to be all right, now. Can you please fetch me a phone? I have a call I need to make.”

  ***

  “Good morning, Mr. Griggs,” the doorman of the Crimson Tiger Casino said. “A beautiful morning we have today.”

  “Yes indeed,” Mr. Griggs replied with a nod as he walked pass the doorman and put a tip in his front pocket.

  “Thank you, sir. Have a great day.”

  Mr. Griggs walked across the floor of the Crimson Tiger. He was a scrawny man with greased-back black hair and beady eyes that hid behind bottle cap glasses. What he lacked in physical stature, he made up for with his merciless and inhumane nature. He was meticulous and cruel, but it got the job done. More importantly, it got the attention of Martin and the rest of the pack members. Mr. Griggs was the definition of the American dream. He grew up and built his credentials through the ranks of the organization and now, because of Martin’s incarceration and the pack’s quest, was the temporary manager to one of the top casinos in Las Vegas, in their absence.

  Mr. Griggs approached his office when a gentleman in a burgundy blazer came running to him. “Sir, you have a phone call. It’s the Lion.”

  “Send the call to my desk,” he replied, gazing over to the young foot soldier and giving him a nod and wave of the hand.

  Mr. Griggs pushed open the tall, oak double doors that led into his office area. It looked more like a throne room for a king than the office area of a casino manager. A giant crimson throw rug adorned the dark granite floors. Three steps led up to a stage where his desk rested. It gave him the feeling of looking down on whomever he spoke to. The walls to the office were made of tempered glass that allowed the occupants of the room to view the entire casino floor.

 

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