Payback: A sniper seeking revenge terrorizes the mob (Assassin Series Book 1)

by David Nees

  Got to be quick. These guys won’t have much patience. If they came in, he could be trapped either on the main floor or in the basement. Dan shuddered at that thought.

  His search revealed a trapdoor in the floor. He managed to pry it open. Below, as he hoped, was a tunnel lined with large pipes and electrical conduit. Dan quickly climbed down and set off to the west. Wherever this winds up, it beats walking out into an ambush.

  After three minutes of running bent over through the tunnel, he came to a set of climbing rungs ending in a round cover. Probably comes out in the alley between buildings. Dan climbed up the shaft. He carefully lifted the cover just above its rim and slid it over. Taking a deep breath, he poked his head out. As he had hoped, he was in between the buildings. No one seemed to have spotted him. A dumpster sat next to the adjacent building. Dan slid his pack out of the hole and climbed out. He dashed to the cover of the dumpster just as the shooter from the south side building fired. The shots hit the ground just behind him.

  After gaining the cover of the dumpster, Dan lay on his stomach and risked a glance at the shooter’s position. He figured the man would be aiming higher, expecting him to be kneeling or crouching. Sure enough a shot rang out over his head. Dan was able to locate the position. He backed up and then turned to the side of the dumpster next to the building. There was space between the container and the wall. Dan slid his rifle through the gap and squeezed himself into the slot until he could target the shooter’s position. It took a moment and he got the man in his sights.

  His carbine didn’t have a scope but the target was not far, about fifty yards away. He’d only get one clear shot. Others were probably already headed to his position and he needed to move. Slowing his breathing down, he steadied the rifle, and between breaths and heartbeats, his index finger stroked the trigger in a smooth motion, careful to not pull the rifle off the target. The carbine spat once and the target fell back from the window.

  Dan jumped up and ran forward to crouch behind a set of concrete steps leading to a door in the building, near its corner. He saw two men coming forward along the wall of the warehouse he had just left, moving towards the alley. Dan fired rapidly and they both went down before they could return fire.

  More would be coming. He ran back down the alley and scrambled through a broken window. Once inside he scanned the area. He was in a large, empty room, but not the main warehouse space. Dan headed towards the back of the building. The men would be coming along the back of the warehouse he had escaped to attack his position in the alley. He figured they had some coming from the other end of the alley as well to box him in.

  He held his rifle shouldered and ready to shoot anyone looking in through the windows. Stepping carefully to not crunch any broken glass or debris, he moved forward. Suddenly a head appeared. The man let out a startled sound and started to bring his rifle up. Dan’s shot hit him in the face and he fell backwards out of sight. Dan jumped behind a column and two other men fired blindly into the warehouse.

  Crouching, he came around the column firing. He hit one of the men and the other dropped down below the window. Dan charged to the window and reached through it to shoot the guy crouching below.

  Shots whistled through the warehouse from the windows on the alley. Gotta go. Dan sprinted through the warehouse away from the windows and through a door into the main section of the building. He ran full speed through the cavernous building to the far front corner. At another broken window he stopped and carefully peeked over the rim. No one in sight. He scanned in both directions. I’m a step ahead now. He had a chance. They would be coming into the warehouse. They would be slow and careful. Dan had killed too many for them to be careless.

  He climbed out of the window and dropped to the pavement five feet below. After another look around he ran across the parking lot to some junked cars along the fence. He had to find a way through the fence. He couldn’t go to the main gate which was back towards the building where the drop was made. The gang was concentrated there, in the alley, and now moving into the warehouse he had just left. Got to get through the fence and disappear.

  He crouched and ran along the fence until he came to a broken section he could squeeze under. As he was going through the break he heard the shouts. They had spotted him. Dan fought to keep his panic down as his back pack snagged on the fence. Pulling harder only hooked him tighter. He forced his rising panic down and made himself back up, shift the pack sideways, and crawl forward again. Finally through, he sprinted down the street as shots came his way. He turned the corner. A car squealed out of the parking lot, heading in his direction.

  Dan ran down the street until he reached an inset doorway offering some protection. He turned to wait for the car to come around the corner fifty yards back. Think I’m just going to run down the street so you can shoot me down? Idiots.

  As the car started around the corner, Dan opened up with his carbine, pumping round after round into the windshield. The car careened wide to the left and ran up on the sidewalk to slam into a building on the other side of the street. He continued to fire into the front, and then the back seats.

  When he changed magazines someone opened the back door on the far side of the car. The man fired a couple of shots—pistol shots Dan guessed from the sound. They would not be that effective at over fifty yards. Dan sent multiple rounds into the back of the car, pinning the shooter down. Then he jumped out and ran away from the car, to the next doorway. The shooter poked his head up to fire again and Dan sent him hiding with another multiple round burst from his carbine. Then he ran, turning the corner at the end of the block.

  He was still in the old warehouse area. He ran full speed down the block and through another alley, which brought him out to a street of row houses. He stopped before entering the street to disassemble his carbine and stuff it in his back pack. He kept his pistol in its holster under his jacket. Then he emerged on the street and started running again.

  His lungs were on fire and legs giving out when he heard the sirens. The arrival of the cops meant Vincent’s guys would have to disappear. They couldn’t pursue him. But he could also be stopped by the police, and with the money and weapons in his backpack, it would be all over for him. Like Vincent’s crew, Dan couldn’t get caught. He had to put more distance between himself and the car he shot up.

  After five more blocks, now more walking than running and being careful to not to draw the attention of any cruiser going past, Dan arrived at a subway entrance. This was always a dilemma. Going down into the station meant putting himself into a box with only one exit. If any cop patrolling the station received an alert about the shooting, he might stop a male with a back pack. There were certainly enough bodies to be found some eleven blocks away to make this a major incident. But if there weren’t a cop, he could quickly disappear. Staying on the streets and walking posed a greater risk of being stopped, and getting a cab would leave a record of his presence. He was not in disguise; bad choices all around. He slowed his breathing, wiped the sweat from his face, and started down the steps.

  Chapter 30

  Marty Singleton and Jimmy McMurray sat in their captain’s office. Ron Donovan was not happy. There had been a robbery at a local card game and some prominent citizens were involved. He had been advised to keep a lid on it, but the attendees were worried about a shake-down. One said the dealer had been shot, but the cops had found no evidence.

  “You telling me that you didn’t find any signs of a shooting?”

  “Nothing yet,” Marty said. “I’m sending a forensics team over with high intensity lights and luminol. If there’s blood there, we’ll find it.”

  “Someone gets shot at close range and there’s no bullet hole…anywhere?” Donovan continued.

  “Could have been a small caliber or a sub-sonic round. It may not have gone through the body. Right now we can’t even establish that someone was shot in that apartment,” Marty responded.

  “What can you establish?” Donovan asked.


  “We got fingerprints. We’re running them now. We know who was there. But do you want me to get prints from all the people at the game? To match them up with what’s in the apartment?”

  “We’ve got to be careful here,” Donovan replied. “We’ve got one hand tied behind our backs because of who was there. No one wants the publicity, but they want us to find this thief.”

  “And we’re getting no help from Salvatore,” Marty added.

  “Both hands tied behind our backs,” Jimmy chimed in.

  Donovan just gave him a sour look.

  “I got one lead. It’s a long shot.”

  Donovan looked over at Marty. “Well, what is it?”

  “There’s word on the street that a guy, Dan Stone, is behind the robberies and shootings. He’s got a grudge against Vincent. It’s from that restaurant explosion last year. It was his restaurant and the guy’s pregnant wife was killed in it. Maybe he’s getting revenge.”

  “So, you going to pick him up? This is good. Maybe we can put this to rest after all.”

  “Problem is, he left town over six months ago and no one’s seen him since.”

  “Then why do people think he’s behind all this?”

  “He’s got the motive…and I did some checking. He was a sniper in the army before getting out. He did two tours in Iraq. He would know what he’s doing.”

  “So you got a ghost, someone no one’s seen in six months, who might have a motive and who’s an Iraqi vet? What the hell do I do with that?”

  “Like I said, he’s got the connection because of the fire. Apparently he made some threats towards Vincent before he left.”

  “Okay, follow it up. He got any friends from the neighborhood?”

  “Already working on it, Captain. I’m trying to get on top of this for you.”

  “For all of us. Last thing we need is to have city hall pissed and the commissioner on our ass.”

  Two days later Mike Warner, an FBI agent, sat in Ron Donovan’s office.

  “Captain Donovan, I’ve been tasked to take charge of an investigation into Vincent Salvatore. We know about the recent spate of robberies and shootings with his gang. The Agency feels we have an opportunity here that we need to exploit.”

  “What is the opportunity that’s so important you can come in here and get in the way of my on-going investigation?” Ron asked.

  “I’m not at liberty to say, but we have determined that there has been an attempt to blackmail some public officials, so if I need to, I can use that to make this a federal matter.”

  “Where’d you get that information? I certainly haven’t come to that conclusion.” His face grew red; Ron was beginning to let his anger show.

  “Again, I can’t divulge that information at this time, but I can assure you that we’ve been given the go from my boss, Hank Wilson, the Special Agent in Charge for New York…in cooperation with your commissioner. You can make the calls to confirm this.” Mike was polite but cold. “I’d rather have your cooperation without making this a larger issue.” He had his job to do and didn’t enjoy insulting local police departments. But over the years he had found that they could also muck up his work. He had learned to establish his authority and position early on so he could do his work without interference. “I’d like to be able to call on the detective working the case. It’ll make my work more efficient and I can be out of your hair sooner.”

  “So you come in and take over the investigation and want to use my detective to pursue it. Are you gonna pay him as well? Seems like I’m providing the manpower and you’re taking the credit.”

  “Captain, you know who’s involved. We’ve got something unique going on here. Something that we’ve not seen outside of a mob turf war and this doesn’t seem to be one of those, it’s different. In addition, there’s also these prominent citizens…this could turn into a pile of shit for everyone. If you want your fingerprints on it, I’ll be happy to oblige. I’m not out to nail some public officials for illegal gambling, I can save that for another day. I’m after larger game. But this could get ugly before it’s over.”

  Ron Donovan just scowled, but he didn’t have an answer. He had already received the phone calls from multiple sources after the card game was robbed. Things were delicate. Maybe it was for the best that it was now going to be out of his hands. Still, he didn’t like the feds intruding on his turf. They always acted like they were better than everyone else.

  Mike gave the captain some time to digest what he had said, suggested a meeting with Detective Singleton, and then asked for a room his team could use on a regular basis. After going through Singleton’s information, Mike had Tommy’s name and address. Two days later they had Emilio in the precinct office. The most Emilio would claim to know was the name of the woman who came around to see Dan, either Darlene or Doreen.

  A search of the high school records for Tommy’s class turned up three Darlene’s and one Doreen. One was deceased, two were married, one lived in California, which left a Doreen in Boston. Following up on her, they discovered her new position with the Manhattan law firm. A phone call to her firm yielded her location in Atlanta. Mike called the FBI office down there and had an agent find her and arrange a visit.

  Chapter 31

  A week after the warehouse shootout, Dan walked down the street where Joey lived. It was lined with brownstones, solid construction but undistinguished in their sameness. The area had not yet experienced the yuppie renovation that was occurring elsewhere in Brooklyn. It was two in the morning and the street was empty, all the houses dark. He walked up to Joey’s car parked in front of his house. Quietly he bent down and punctured the street-side tires, and then the ones on the curb-side. He then walked away into the shadows. Two blocks later, he slipped into a cluttered alley and curled up next to a dumpster. He wrapped his coat around himself, set his watch to buzz his wrist with a silent alarm and tried to go to sleep. With him he had his guitar case holding his Remington rifle.

  At nine a.m. Joey stepped out of his front door, glanced up and down the street and walked to his car. He knew Vincent was on a tear and he needed to be at the Gardens early. If shit was flying, Joey wanted to make sure it didn’t fly his way.

  The robberies and the shootout at the warehouse had resulted in seven of Vincent’s men—some members of the crew, some associates—getting killed or wounded. This was a major screw up. Now the police were hot on this. It made the papers and was being written up as a major gang war. The reporters were unaware of Dan’s connection to the shootings. Meanwhile no one in the mob could lay a hand on him. He frustrated every move they made. Joey knew this problem was attached to him. Yeah, he had handled the firebombing of the restaurant badly, but it was an easy mistake to make. Who knew this guy would come back like some comic book avenger and start robbing and killing the crew? If things got worse, if Vincent needed a fall guy, Joey knew he would be it. They needed to get Dan out of action. His face twisted into a scowl as he pondered how that could be done.

  When he got to his car, he saw the flat tires. “Shit!” He walked around to the street side and saw the other two flat as well. “What the fuck?” As he started to the driver’s door, pulling out his phone, the windshield exploded in a thousand shards. Joey just stared at it for a moment. He hadn’t heard a sound. Suddenly he realized someone had shot out the windshield.

  He twisted around to the rear of the car and crouched down. Pulling out his phone, he hit speed dial. “Frank, someone’s shooting at me in front of my house. They slashed my tires and now they’re shooting at me. Get over here quick.”

  “You see where they are?”

  “No, but they shot the windshield, which means they’re east of me. Come in from the east end, down 83rd Street. You may be able to see them. I can’t see nothing from here. Hurry.”

  “Don’t panic.” Frank said.

  Joey figured Frank would connect this to Dan. He hoped Frank would intercept him as he came down the street. Dan might be getting over confident. After t
he call, Joey made a dash for his front door. There were no more shots.

  Joey watched from a window in his apartment as Frank drove slowly down his street, obviously looking carefully around. When Frank got to the car, Joey stepped out of the house. He was just angry now, his fear having subsided since nothing else had happened. To the neighbors it probably looked like a serious vandal attack on the car. He now felt silly which only increased his anger.

  “I’ll bet Dan’s behind this.” He got in the car with Frank. “I didn’t hear a fucking sound when the windshield shattered.”

  “If he was far enough away, shooting a sub-sonic round with a suppressor, you wouldn’t hear it,” Frank replied. “He’s pretty damn professional.”

  Joey just shook his head; he didn’t understand the finer points of shooting. But it seemed to him Frank was starting to develop a perverse admiration for Dan.

  Joey suppressed his anger; Frank never failed to make him uneasy. Darkness hovered around him, as if light just disappeared when it hit him. Joey didn’t want to let his emotions show in front of him.

  “Better call the garage to pick up your car with a tilt bed. You don’t want the police to start asking more questions.”

  The gang had a favorite garage they controlled which did business without asking questions. At times they helped to make cars disappear and fixed bullet holes that could prove embarrassing.

  “What’s next? Is he going to start shooting at everyone or just me?” Joey knew Dan was targeting him. It was only a matter of time before he’d get killed like Angelo. The thought made him shudder.