Cutter

by Laird, Thomas

  ‘I look tired? You ought to catch your own act.’

  It was three-forty in the morning. We were into the dregs of winter. It seemed like the change to spring would never take place. We had ice and hail and snow. It had been a putrid March. And our wedding day was set for April 23rd. Natalie had us running in circles trying to complete all the details for the ceremony.

  I picked up her injured arm and I kissed the fingers sticking out of all that gauze.

  ‘You’re going to need plastic surgery.’

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded. She finally started to cry.

  ‘I will not do this,’ she muttered. But the tears came anyway. ‘One month till the wedding and this bitch has to screw me up. I’ll have a scar on this arm and you won’t want me.’

  ‘You say that again and I’ll swat your fanny.’

  She straightened up toward me and kissed me.

  ‘You’re not all turned on by perfect forearms, then?’

  ‘Not especially, Natalie, although I’m not happy this sweetheart hurt you ... When’s the plastic surgery?’

  ‘Next week.’

  ‘What really pisses me off is this wench cut me off tonight. Now it’s really personal.’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry, Jimmy. I think I can still manage to generate a little heat for the both of us.’

  She straightened up and let me have it again, right on the lips. I picked her up and carried her as gently as I could into her bedroom.

  *

  It hit me when I was going through some casework downtown. Plastic surgery. That had to be Marco’s next move. It was radical, but it was the only thing that was going to keep him on the streets — unless he tried to leave the area or the country. Which would he try? A new face or a new location? I asked Doc Gibron.

  ‘New face ... But who’d do him now that he’s so famous?’

  *

  ‘There’s a guy. Some rich bastard up in the burbs. Lake Forest, I think,’ Billy told us. He had relocated to a crib in Cicero. He’d been moving every week, he told us.

  ‘Guy named Richmond. John’s got a fuckin’ lien on his property, you might say, but I don’t know the reason ... You think Farm Guy wants a new puss, is that it?’

  I thanked my cousin and told him to keep mobile. When he caught my drift, his smile turned to something a lot more somber and serious.

  *

  ‘When do you expect Dr Richmond in?’ Doc asked the nurse.

  ‘He’s taken a two-week vacation. I think it’s to the Caymans, but I’m not sure. It’s odd because he never confirmed his destination and he always leaves me a number where I can reach him. You know, in case a patient needs to reach him.’

  I thanked the good-looking redhead and we departed.

  ‘You think the good doctor has straightened her nose and enhanced her features?’ Gibron asked me.

  *

  We tried Richmond’s house, but we got no answer. We walked around to the rear of this multi-million-dollar estate where he resided in Lake Forest. We knocked at the rear entrance but there was no response.

  Doc saw the jimmy marks near the door handle. When he pressed that handle, the door popped open. So Gibron went back out front and radioed for backup from the County Police. We didn’t need a warrant because I thought we had probable cause to enter Richmond’s home.

  County pulled up in five minutes flat. They didn’t tolerate creepers in this neighborhood. Burglars, thieves, breaking-and-entering experts.

  The County deputies entered the house with Doc and me at the back door. We walked in with our weapons drawn. It was unlikely the guy who’d broken in was still here, but you never knew. We saw no car parked close to this three-acre lot.

  There was nothing on the main floor. They had an old-fashioned spiral staircase that I assumed led to the bedrooms above us. I led the way up, but we were not shouting out that we were down there. Doc and the pair of County deputies were behind me.

  The smell hit me as soon as I’d reached the halfway point on the spiral staircase. I began to hurry upward. My pulse and heartbeat were beginning to skyrocket.

  I found the girls first. They had separate bedrooms at the top of the flight. They were young teenagers, perhaps fourteen or fifteen. Their throats had been cut and they had died in their beds. Their eyes were closed as if they had expired in their sleep. The four of us walked in and out of the two bedrooms and headed down the hall.

  The doctor and his wife were in the master bedroom. Their throats had been likewise slashed. Dr Richmond had had his hands cut off. They lay at the foot of the bed. Mrs Richmond had fared worse. She lay on top of the bedspread with her intestines exposed and her head nearly severed. I was betting that she was missing some of her major organs, but I’d leave the examination to the ME. The strangest item here was the fact that there appeared to have been no struggle. The teenagers looked like they simply never woke up, and the couple in this room seemed to have never been aroused into a struggle either.

  ‘He used the ether on them. At least they never saw what hit them,’ Doc offered as an explanation.

  ‘You’re probably right.’

  One of the County deputies was new on the job, so he ran toward the closest toilet. The other deputy appeared to be turning a shade of green.

  I nodded for him to take a walk down the hall too. It was not something just any stomach could handle.

  ‘He didn’t stay out of circulation very long, did he?’ Doc asked. ‘Or maybe he was pissed about the job the physician there did on him. Chopped off the doc’s moneymakers.’

  ‘I think he was making sure Richmond was out of play. Then he decided to take advantage of the missus. She’s about mid-thirties, no?’

  ‘Yeah, Jimmy. But it’s hard to tell age on a slaughtered animal. She doesn’t look quite human, the way he left her.’

  ‘Fortuna was right. This guy’s ananimale. We probably ought to let Jackie Morocco’s people handle him.’

  Doc looked over at me and didn’t even blink. He knew mindless anger and frustration when he heard it.

  We made the calls and pulled all of our people in place. The Medical Examiner, the forensics people — both city and County.

  It was our guy Karrios, of course. So County would let us in the door. I didn’t know of any outfit outside the CPD that would want The Farmer dumped on them to handle alone. And the FBI would shortly be on scene as well. I called Terry Morrissey, the agent working with us, and he said his group of investigators would be arriving soon. Dr Richmond’s estate would be loaded with strangers.

  ‘Why’d he have to kill the girls?’ I asked my partner.

  Doc grew distant at the question. He went into hibernation with the deaths of two young black girls a few years back, and now I was sorry I asked the question.

  Doc got out his little notebook and Bic pen and went to work.

  *

  ‘Jesus Christ. He hacked up the guy’s whole family?’ Billy asked. This time we were in Oak Lawn, on the southwest side.

  ‘Two little girls. Just becoming young women,’ I explained to him. ‘Billy, it’s time you told us who The Farmer’s contact was. It’s too late to worry about getting whacked by whoever it was in the Outfit. And I have the honest feeling that Marco Karrios doesn’t deal with Big John directly. So how about telling us who it was who opened business with the capo’s crew.’

  Billy lit a cigarette. I never saw him smoke before.

  ‘Put that fuckin’ thing out. You’ll gag the three of us,’ Doc commanded.

  Billy stubbed out the butt.

  ‘Oh man. This’ll make sure they button my drawers, Jimmy.’

  ‘You’re dead if we don’t get them before they get you. You’re smart enough to figure the move here, Billy,’ I told him.

  ‘Oh man, oh man. You’ll find me with a fuckin’ cattle prod up my heinie.’

  ‘Come on, come on. It’s too late for all this shit,’ Doc reminded him.

  He picked up the dead cigarette out of the ashtray and ru
bbed it to dust.

  ‘It’s Sal Donofrio. That’s this guy’s connection — but don’t think Big John doesn’t know what his troops are up to, Jimmy. Fortuna’s no fuckin’ cherry in this. He’s just pissed his old squeeze, his sister, got whacked on the deal. What you said about John maybe not knowing about The Farmer’s business? That’s bullshit. Sal ain’t smart enough to pull it off ... They say Fortuna’s got crocodile tears. Remember that, when we were kids? He can fool you that he’s all sincere about something, and then he bites your fuckin’ head off. Like a crocodile. He ain’t clean on this thing, Jimmy P. But he’s got a personal thing with this guy Karrios now. And he’s got the people to find the son of a bitch maybe even before you do, and if he does, I’m fuckin’ dead. You guys gotta win this one, coz. I’m beggin’ you.’

  I’d never seen him so desperate. I would have liked to assure him that we’d get to Karrios and Fortuna, but I couldn’t lie to him. He was right about the miserable odds.

  *

  ‘Hello, Sal,’ Doc said, as we sat down in the interview box downtown.

  ‘You guys get randy, I’m lawyering up,’ the short, powerfully muscled Sicilian told us.

  ‘We’re dutifully threatened,’ Gibron conceded.

  ‘We know you’re hooked to Karrios,’ I said to him.

  ‘Case closed. I want an attorney.’

  ‘Listen, asshole. Your lawyer’s not going to save you from Jackie Morocco when Big John finds out you been doing business for a second time with Karrios. He doesn’t know that you put Marco onto the plastic surgeon, does he? He’ll figure it out. We did. Then what? You’re going to need some cosmetic surgery yourself when the Big Dog finds out you been cutting your own deals ... And what happened? Did Marco threaten you? Is that why you were so hot to start the business back up again? ... When we catch up to Marco Karrios, and we will, he’s going to dump you right into John Fortuna’s lap. Either way you jump, you’re dead.’

  ‘I want my lawyer,’ Donofrio repeated to me.

  ‘Sure, Sal. But there’s one deal that might save your ass.’

  He didn’t ask for his counselor this time.

  ‘We put you away safe after you give us John Fortuna. We got the FBI standing right on the other side of that one-way mirror. They’ll get you into witness protection, John goes away for life, and we have our hands free to deal with Marco and Marco only ... Now, before you give me the code-of-silence rejection, you better think about what’s best for you. Marco didn’t tell you he was going to whack the doctor and his whole family, did he? He probably made you think the two of you are still business partners the way you were. You can’t be stupid enough to think he’s going to let you go on breathing when he can try to set up his own business with his own contacts. You know how bright this piece of shit is. You don’t think he can fly solo, without you and the crew? You that dumb, Sal?’

  Donofrio sat motionless. Then he sat up and folded his hands in front of him.

  ‘You got paper on me? ‘Cause if you don’t, I’m leaving.’

  Doc opened the door. It appeared at first as if Sal was debating on getting out of his chair. But he finally did and he walked slowly out into the hall. Just as he was about to disappear, he turned toward Doc and me. It looked like he had something to tell us. But the moment passed, and then he turned and walked out.

  *

  ‘That was our best shot at him. I really thought he might take the deal,’ Doc said.

  We were sitting in my tiny office upstairs. We could never sit in Doc’s cubicle because it was too full of novels and collections of poetry. The place was as cluttered as a teenager’s bedroom.

  ‘We have to watch him. Billy says he’s the connection, then Marco’s got to contact him. Until and unless we’re right and he eliminates the middleman. You think Sal’s days are numbered?’

  ‘Well, he better check on the status of all his insurance. He’s a bad risk. But I’m betting on the crew boss to make Sal disappear before Marco does. Marco’s got his new appearance going for him, and Richmond was the only pair of eyes that knew what the new Farmer looks like ... We need an artist to alter Karrios’s face. Slap a beard and a mustache over the old visage. Straighten his nose. Color his hair. Whatever. We’ll be flying blind, I know ... I think our best bet would be to try and catch him when he hits Sal. Even Sal knows it’s the logical move. I say we use Donofrio as bait, without Sal’s permission.’

  We walked downstairs to where the FBI had set up temporary headquarters. Terry Morrissey was in his office.

  ‘We need big-time surveillance on Sal Donofrio,’ I told him.

  ‘We’re already setting it up. I was just about to come upstairs and let you know.’

  Doc turned his stare from the freckled, red-headed Federal Agent and gave me a non-believing flip of the eyeballs.

  ‘No. No shit. I really was ... Sal’s the guy. Marco still might need him before he sets up his own shop on the Internet ... I assume that’s what you two were just talking about before you got here?’

  The FBI was maybe not as inept as Doc and I kept telling each other. Apparently, at least they have their moments.

  ‘Sal’s the man. Karrios wants to be the last man standing,’ I told the agent.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I secure an apartment on the far northwest side.I’m so far out on the northwest that two more blocks and I’m into a suburb.But it’s close enough to where I want to be.The city is crowded.Its population makes a great place to hide.I’m called a predator in the media,and I suppose there’s something correct in that name because Iama hunter,after all.That’s the nature of my trade.

  But this homicide police guy—this James Parisi—has been saying things about me that are uncalled for.He’s called me an ‘animal’ and several other things that are very unflattering.As I say,when we killed in the Army,it was our duty.But when I don’t have the government’s sanction,I’m some kind of jungle creature.And all the press about the mutilations.None of my victims—except that snotty cunt stewardess and that bitch I lived with—felt any pain.I anesthetized each of them with the ether.Even the plastic surgeon’s wife.

  It was almost too easy,breaking into the doctor’s home.The cheap bastard didn’t even have a security system.I guess he figured deadbolts would keep the boogyman out.I was inside the back door in seconds.And if he’d had a dog,it would’ve also added to the challenge.I don’t like dogs.

  I went up his stairs and discovered the two girls first.I couldn’t very well leave them parentless,could I?And the shock of discovering mom and dad all over their master bedroom couldn’t have given the two youngsters a good start in life,so I figure what I did was an act of mercy.

  All those women and children we killed in Panama and in the Gulf By accident,the government says.They were casualties of war.And in that same way the surgeon’s daughters suffered from being in the wrong place at the wrong time.Did their white skin and their upper-class neighborhood excuse them from becoming those casualties of combat?I don’t think so.It’s just that the media is horrified when Americans die violently.

  I don’t really spend a lot of time in self-justification.I’ve read Nietzsche.I understand the concept of the Übermensch.He was right.Therearea number of men who are above the laws of the herd.I’m not entirely philosophical in nature,but I understood enough of Nietzsche’s brand of existentialism to see that living under any jurisdiction is living under illusion.But,as I say,I don’t spend sleepless nights trying to rationalize my life.Does a wolf rationalize every throat he tears out?Every lamb he slaughters?Why are men any different under Nature?

  This Parisi cop irritates me.I’d like to meet up with him and his family at some point,but it’s a bit too risky to anger the police by killing one of their own.I can’t over-stimulate public outrage because it tightens the loop on my hunting grounds.Next thing I’d know,all the women in the city will be packing heat.I’m trying to conduct business,for the most part,so I suppose it’s time for a brief interlude.

&
nbsp; In order to fill the other two orders for our European clients via Thailand,I met with two prostitutes,separately,on the west side of the city.I took them to my apartment,I anesthetized each of them on those two occasions,and I extracted what the order called for—liver,lungs,and heart.I dumped each of the bodies on different lots on the west side.

  I don’t normally do niggers,but,as I said,it was a rush order.Since we’re talking in seven figures,there was no time to be as selective as I normally am.

  The creative geniuses at the FBI and at the Chicago Police Department have made it very public about how the previous ‘victims’ were white females in their thirties.The nigger whores were probably in their early twenties,and I tried to make my cuttings as crude as possible.It could be that they’ll think someone’s doing a copycat.I hope so.It’s not very clever to be predictable.

  By this time Parisi and his cohorts will have conducted the inevitable interview with my parents.And by this time the police will have learned from my mother and father that I came home ‘changed’ from my military service.And then Parisi will have noticed a photograph that contains a new player in the Karrios clan.He will have inquired who she was and what she had to do with my growing-up.But my parents will not have told them anything specific about Marina.They will not discuss anything as personal and as delicate as our previous ‘situation’.They would not and could not.Marina’s been dead for many years.She was killed with her husband in a car accident on the couple’s way to their honeymoon.They might have mentioned the accident to Parisi or the FBI or some Sheriff’s deputy,but they wouldn’t have disclosed anything further.No.They’ve buried Marina deeper than any cemetery plot.She’s gone and she’s been disappeared.

  My parents would’ve used the ‘Greek immigrant’ story with the investigators.They would’ve shared with them how they had wanted me to become a professional man,a doctor,so that I could become someone greater than a railroadman and his cashier wife who still sported Greek accents after living here for more than five decades.The old retelling of The American Dream.That’s what my life was supposed to have become.Now they live in obscurity in a small town that has more than its share of poverty and failure.They live on two small pensions that fulfill all their requirements.He’ll read a Chicago paper,which will occupy him for most of the morning.She will clean house and tend to all of Niko’s needs.That’s Elena.Traditional.Everything about them reeks of tradition.Greek Orthodox Church.Big deals on Easter and the other Church holidays.Lamb on the Resurrection.They both live just to be buried someday somewhere near Athens,their birthplace.