Of Kings And Pawns

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Of Kings And Pawns Page 12

by Michael Oshita


  “I’m not telling you anything regarding my business with Carmine,” Francisco began, as he slowly placed his handgun down on the display and raised his hands up. “He did nothing wrong, and he is an old friend that came by to visit me.”

  “Now I know your lying,” the agent replied as he grabbed the handgun from the counter and placed it on the ground. “I’ve been tracking Carmine Lazzero from the time he flipped on Martin Lazzero twelve years ago. I know about the safes he has been searching for around the entire nation, as well as the order for a transport that you made near the end of the week. Did Carmine find the safe where he lives now, or is it someplace else?”

  Francisco stared back at his interrogator, unwilling to tell him anything more than what he already knew.

  “You know,” Agent Grady began as he walked over to the front door and locked it from the inside. “I love when they don’t talk. It gives me the thrill of finding out on my own. This life that I live can be a very boring one, you see. But every once in a while I get the juices flowing when someone doesn’t want to speak.” He pulled up close and placed his handgun directly under Francisco’s chin. “Are you going to help me out, or am I going to have to get the juices flowing again?”

  “You are a corrupt, spineless thug,” the store owner replied in disgust as he stared back angrily. “I hope one day you get what’s coming to ya.”

  “No, Mr. Lopez, I’m not corrupt. I’m desperate. This has been a long journey for me. I want it to end already, and I’ll stop at nothing to see this through. This is my chance to do it, and I will no longer sit back idly and watch this opportunity pass me by.” He cocked his handgun under Francisco’s chin. “Are you going to help me or not, Mr. Lopez?”

  Francisco could see the desperation in Agent Grady’s eyes. He was being genuine. “Twelve years has been a long time,” Francisco replied in a calming voice. His body started to relax once he realized that the agent wasn’t going to harm him. “You’ve really tailed Carmine for the past twelve years?” he asked in disbelief.

  “Yes. Please help me,” he said, the desperation evident in his voice. “I haven’t seen my family in years, nor have I spoken to them in as long a time.” He reached into his shirt and pulled out the locket of his family and showed it to Francisco.

  “What can I do to help you, Agent Grady?”

  “I need to know when all of this is going to happen, where the pickup is going to be, who’s going to be there—everything regarding Carmine Lazzero, the safe, and the transport. I promise you I won’t hurt Carmine. I will just apprehend him. Once I capture him, then I will call in for backup and they will take him away unharmed. I don’t even want the money. If you want it, you can take it. I just want Carmine.”

  Before he could respond to the agent’s request, the phone rang. He looked over at the phone and then back to Grady, “Can I get that? It might be Carmine.”

  “Go, but if you give him any hint that I’m here or what I plan to do, I’ll shoot you dead.”

  Francisco nodded his head in agreement and walked over to the phone. “Hello, Juan and Sons Gun Shop. How may I help you?”

  “Francisco, it’s Carmine. John knows the truth and ran off before I could stop him. I need the transport as soon as possible. Can you speed up the process?”

  What should I do? he thought as he stood in silence, phone in hand. Do I stay loyal to my friend even though this means I will die? Do I help out this desperate agent who just wants to see his family? “How soon do you want this done?” he finally replied over the phone.

  “I want this done by tomorrow night. Think you can do that?”

  “I can reach out to my contact for an emergency hire and get him to the location tomorrow night.”

  “Thank you so much, my friend. I’ll be by tomorrow to grab some things I might need for the trip. Is everything all right? You sound like something is bothering you.”

  “Yes… yes, I’m fine. Just busy cleaning up the place. You’re welcome, my friend. May the rest of your journey go by smoothly, and I will see you tomorrow. Be safe, Carmine. Bye.” He placed his phone back down. He was a broken man. He betrayed a close friend for self-preservation. “It’s been moved up to tomorrow night,” he informed Agent Grady. “The boy knows the truth about the safe and ran off. Carmine can’t risk John telling anyone and needs to get out now.”

  The agent smiled broadly. “My journey is nearing its conclusion. I will be free. Free to see my family.”

  “Yes. Yes, you will be,” Francisco replied as he walked over to his fax machine. “I’m sending a fax to my contact to move up the time to tomorrow night at nine o’clock.”

  He fed the fax into the machine and watched, torn over what he had done—how he was betraying a dear and close friend. “Okay, it went through,” he replied, turning back around to face Grady. The agent then fired shots into both of his legs, dropping him to the ground. Francisco screamed in pain.

  “I’m sorry to do this, Mr. Lopez. You’ve been most gracious in your time and help. But, I can’t risk you tipping Carmine off tomorrow when he comes and sees you,” he replied calmly as he reloaded his gun.

  Francisco hunched over on the ground and grabbed his legs in pain. Under his register he kept another handgun that only he knew about. He looked back up at his assailant. “You are a spineless worm. When Carmine finds out about my death, he will run away and disappear. He will be gone, forever, and you won’t catch him. You will continue to wander around aimlessly looking for him. You won’t be able to see your family again.”

  “I don’t think so,” Grady replied, re-cocking his gun and pointing it at Francisco. “The wheels have been set in motion and you said it yourself: Carmine is just as desperate as I am. He will run the risk to see this through. He just needs to make it through the day.”

  He’s right. I can still save Carmine, though. I can redo my mistake and save my friend. Francisco slowly pulled himself up and positioned himself next to his register. “A storm is coming, Agent Grady. I hope you’re ready to face its wrath when it comes time for your judgment. You won’t get away with this.” He dropped below the register and reached for his handgun. But it wasn’t there. He felt around for his gun but to no avail.

  “Sorry about that, Mr. Lopez. When I came and inspected your office the other night, I made sure to look around and take away all your hidden weapons that might have stopped me from completing my interrogation,” the agent explained as he walked around the display counter to face Francisco. “You’ve been most gracious and cooperative through this entire process, and for that I thank you. However, I can’t risk you squealing to Carmine about our little chat. Oh, and this judgment that you’re telling me I will face in due time… I’ve been waiting for that for the past twelve years.”

  “Stop, agent,” Francisco pleaded, raising his hands up in the air to try and protect himself. “I have a family, also. I just want to live so I can see them again. You’re desperate, agent, but you don’t have to do this. Let me live and you will never see or hear from me, again. I won’t tell anyone, please!”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t take that chance.” Grady raised his gun up and fired five shots into his victim’s chest. Francisco Lopez fell limp on the ground in his own bloody pool.

  Grady walked over to the fax machine and grabbed the confirmation that was sent back. He broke some of the displays and smashed open the register, pulling some of the money out. He walked back to Francisco’s corpse. “Thank you again, Mr. Lopez. Your contribution is greatly appreciated.”

  Chapter 12

  “Mr. Tomura, Mr. Lazzero, and Mr. Daichi,” Officer Dye called out into the hallway of the Lion’s Den waiting area, “Mr. Lazzero is ready to see you now.”

  The three pack members stood up from their chairs and began walking down the hallway toward the officer. “Thank you very much, Officer Dye,” Toma replied as he handed an envelope filled with money to the officer. “How’s the family?”

  Officer Dye grabbed his monthly pa
yment for taking care of Martin and slid it into his uniform. “They’re doing good, sir. Thank you. Mr. Lazzero told me your visit is of an urgent matter, so please don’t allow me to slow you down.” He quickly opened the large metal hatch door and held it open for the pack members.

  The three members walked down the hallway and entered the Lion’s Den. Martin was sitting on his rocking chair as he stared out his window. It had been a while since the pack members had met with the patriarch of their organization. When they last spoke, his living quarters was still a nice, neat, presentable space that was comfortable and organized.

  Now it was different. Notes, drawings, and scribbles lay all over the confines of his room. Papers were taped over his walls and covering some of his windows, blocking some of the natural light. The three pack members each gave each other a concerned look as they approached Martin.

  “Hello, Lion,” Toma began as he approached the rocking chair.

  Martin kept gazing out into the yard, as if he were in a trance. After a few seconds, he looked back up at his consigliere. “Oh, hello, Tiger. So nice of you to come and visit me today.” He looked over to Daichi and Anthony. “Oh, you brought everyone with you today. Hello, Jaguar, Leopard.”

  The two men both gave Martin concerned nods of the head, unsure what was going on with their boss.

  “You called us to discuss an important matter, sir,” Toma spoke again, causing Martin to look back to him with a confused look on his face.

  “Ah, yes! That’s right,” Lion replied. His eyes grew wide as he jumped out of his seat and walked over to the grand table that was piled with papers. “There’s something I need to show you all.”

  The pack joined him at the table while Martin shuffled papers back and forth. “I need to go get a smoke,” Anthony said to Toma. Toma acknowledged him and refocused his attention back on Martin.

  “It’s here somewhere. Where the hell did I put it? Aha! Here it is!” Martin turned back to Tiger and Jaguar. “Where’s Anthony?”

  “He stepped outside for a little while, sir.”

  “It’s okay. He can see this after. Please have a seat, both of you.”

  The two pack members both grabbed chairs, brought them in front of Martin, and sat. Lion, holding a newspaper, flashed the comic strip of the red barn in front of his two pupils. “See this newspaper clipping? There it is—the location of my safe.”

  Toma quizzically looked at Martin. “What do you mean your safe? I thought you had only made safes for each pack member, including Carmine?”

  “I’m the leader of this pack, aren’t I? So that means I can have a safe, too, right?” he asked, insulted by his pupil questioning why he should have a safe.

  “Yes, you’re right, sir. I’m sorry. Can you please explain how your safe is in this comic strip?”

  He pulled the paper away from the two men. “It’s not in the comic strip. It’s in a red barn in a town south of Las Vegas… in Goodsprings, to be exact. I need the three of you to get down there and secure my money before it falls into the wrong hands. The barn will be on a piece of property a couple miles out from town heading west. Smack in the middle of the barn is where the safe is buried.”

  “Okay, sir. What do you want us to do with your money once we’ve secured it?” Tiger asked.

  Lion paused, then looked down. “I have no use for it here with me,” he confessed through despair-written eyes, “and your safes have been tampered with from the likes of Mr. Brown and others who might have discovered them already. That money is for the three of you to split amongst yourselves. It’ll be more than enough for you two to retire on. Get out of this business while you still can. This isn’t the life you want to live.”

  Toma looked around the room with papers lying all over the floor. “Martin, what happened? What is the matter?” he asked, leaning over in his chair and placing his arm on his boss’s shoulder. “Talk to me, Martin. What’s going on?”

  “When I was younger, growing up in the streets of New York, times were hard. My father worked day and night to provide for my mother, myself, and the rest of my siblings. When the Great Depression hit, times got even tougher; we barely survived. But we survived. I watched my parents sacrifice for me and my siblings. They died financially poor, but what I learned watching them made me the richest man in the world. If there is one thing I’ve learned from them, it’s take care of your own and hard work will pay off. You two and Anthony are like sons to me. I will take care of my own.”

  Toma leaned over in his seat and placed his hand on his mentor’s leg. “Thank you, old friend. You are as wise as you have ever been.”

  “What’s a matter, Toma? You look like you have something heavy on your mind.”

  “I do,” he replied as he stood up and began pacing back and forth in deep thought. “I have a concern that I would like to voice to you about Anthony. He is getting out of hand. His recklessness is becoming a detriment to the pack and the organization. He and I had a scuffle before we left to come and see you. He is dangerous and will get us in trouble or worse. The only reason why you’re in here is because of his negligence. It led to Carmine getting captured.”

  Lion leaned back in his seat, interested in what his advisor had to say. “Well, what do you suggest?”

  “I think Anthony needs to be stripped of the underboss title. He needs to be placed in a lower-ranking position, like handling the day to day operations of one of the casinos. That way he stays out of the organization’s way and no longer becomes a detriment to the overall goals of the organization and pack.”

  Martin smirked and brought both his hands up to his mouth, intertwining them while he thought. Silence fell over the room; each second made Toma more and more hopeful that Lion would agree with him. “No,” he flatly replied to his request. “You, Anthony, and Carmine all grew up in this organization and always in this pack feeling threatened by one another. Like you were all trying to do better than one another, thinking that would gain favor with me.”

  He stood up from his chair and walked up face to face with Toma. He placed his arms on top of his shoulders. “You don’t need to feel threatened by Anthony. There are precautions that I have put in place that will deter him from trying to harm you or Daichi. Yes, I will confess, I wanted you to be underboss. But I couldn’t so I chose Anthony for a reason. He is a rabid dog; he’s ruthless and maniacal. But, he is still a dog. And you and I hold the leash to his collar. He will not try anything as long as I am alive, and neither will you. Do you understand, Toma?”

  “I do not agree, but I understand, sir.”

  “Good. Now please go and get Anthony. I will speak to him about your concern and make it clear to him that nothing is to happen. Once you complete this last task for me and retrieve my money, I will look into moving you two around so your roles will no longer collide with one another. Understand that you as my consigliere and he as my underboss mean that you two will still have to work with one another. Is that a problem, Tiger?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Good, and understand that I am not going to ‘demote’ him just to satisfy your needs. I appointed him as underboss, and he will remain that way. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The two pack members bowed to show him respect. They soon were heading out of the Lion’s Den to fetch Anthony.

  ***

  Anthony pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and walked down the hallway toward the nearest exit of the Nevada State Penitentiary. My God, he thought, the old man has lost it. He is no longer equipped to run the organization. The underboss was more astonished and taken aback by his recent findings of Martin's health. Now’s not the time to celebrate and hope for the old man to kick the bucket. I need to act quickly. If anyone else found out that his health is this bad, they might try and assume position as head of the organization. If anyone outside of the organization found out about his health, it would mean the start of a war for all the territory in Las Vegas. Toma— that manipulative worm— he might t
ry and say that on Martin's orders he is placed in charge until he is back in good health. Those fools in Vegas would believe him too because of Martin’s open affection toward him.

  Anthony took a drag from his cigarette as his mind swirled with what he could do to prevent such a move from happening. It was then that an insidious seed was planted in the mind of the deranged underboss. Toma would not be able to assume power if he were dead. Nor could he claim it as orders from Martin if he were dead. The time is now. I must act quickly if I want to strike the iron while it's still hot. I will listen to whatever the old man has to say. That will be the final orders that he will give me as boss. As soon as I have the chance, I will kill him and Toma and supplant both of them as the head of the organization.

  He laughed sinisterly and killed his cigarette on the prison wall. He walked back down the hallway to Officer Dye. “Hey, you,” he called out to the hulking officer.

  “Yes, Mr. Lazzero,” he replied, annoyance in his voice. Officer Dye never liked Anthony. In the few times that they had interacted, he and the other guards in the Lion’s Den perceived the underboss as a thug. He wasn’t as courteous and well-mannered as Toma and Daichi. If it were only Anthony visiting Martin, he still would be waiting.

  “I need a phone with a secured line to make a call.”

  “Right through that door, sir.” The officer pointed to a door to the side of his sign-in counter.

  Leopard nodded in gratitude and walked through the door. “After Martin's dead, you will join him too,” he replied under his breath. He could sense the disrespect the lowlife officer had given him, and he didn’t like it. Through the gray metal door a single phone sat on a small table with a chair resting next to it. The room looked and felt more like a janitor’s closet than a room important enough to house a secured line. No matter, I don't plan on staying here long. I just need to make a quick call.

 

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