Debt Collector - Vengeance (Book 2 of a Jack Winchester Organized Crime Action Thriller) (Jack Winchester Vigilante Justice Thriller Series)

by Jon Mills

  “Now for the past year, I’ve been sitting on these and wondering. Does that look like Jack Winchester?”

  Of course it wasn’t easy for anyone to recognize who it was as the photos were dark, grainy and hell, he’d seen better photos of unidentified flying objects than these.

  “Hard to tell, isn’t it?”

  “What do you think?” Frank asked.

  “I think they need a new camera.”

  Frank shook his head and threw a few more down in front of him. These however weren’t of him. They were of the charred remains of Gafino and several other men that were inside on that night.

  “Now we all know that no one is really weeping about the loss of Roy Gafino. He deserved to die. But here I am wondering who might have had a reason to kill him? Better still, who could have got close enough to kill him?”

  Jack sniffed. “By the looks of it, no one would have been close. Otherwise they would have been there with him.”

  “Don’t be a smart ass, Jack. Your sister is now missing. We had two homicides at the treatment center, which we figure was done by the same people who killed Eddie.”

  As he said that he tossed a photo of Eddie Carmine down. Jack squeezed his eyes shut. A flood of memories came back in. He could hear Eddie’s voice replaying in his mind from only a day ago, saying he was looking forward to seeing Jack again.

  “Now I’ve got to ask myself how all of this has happened on the same day you return to the city? Do you want to shed some light on that?”

  “I wish I could help you.”

  Frank stared blankly back at him.

  11

  Frank joined another detective on the other side of the two-way mirror.

  “So what do you think?”

  “Cut him loose,” Frank said.

  “You don’t want to at least keep him in for twenty-four hours?”

  “He’s better to us out on the streets. We’ll tail him, see where he goes.”

  “You think he knows who did it?”

  “I think he has a good idea, and that’s what I’m counting on right now.”

  The other detective nodded.

  “How long have you known this guy?”

  “A long time,” Frank replied, studying Jack.

  It was strange to see him after all of these years. To think of the way their lives had changed. Both of them saw the underbelly of New York and lived among criminals. Frank had known what Jack’s upbringing was like. Between the ages of nine and sixteen they had formed an unlikely friendship. Frank’s own father had grilled him over it numerous times, especially when they were found smoking. Back then it was simple things. Smoking, porno mags, stealing from your local candy store. Nothing that most in the world hadn’t done.

  However, Frank’s father felt that Jack was a bad influence on him. Truth be told, most of the bad ideas came from Frank. It was just Jack who knew how to pull them off. Frank’s home was religious, rule-based and most of the time you felt like you were walking on eggshells. Jack’s was the complete opposite. He came and went as he pleased. There were many nights he didn’t get fed a meal. Frank couldn’t count the number of times he had sneaked out food. That was until Jack met Eddie, after that things changed. He began spending more time with Eddie. Then once he got into boxing and involved with Gafino, they just drifted apart. He still considered Jack his childhood friend, but they were different now. Worlds apart.

  Jason had spent a good portion of the morning at the music store. He wouldn’t be able to meet Danny’s connection until noon. Eventually he left and wandered the streets. He walked across the Brooklyn Bridge and caught a subway up and down Manhattan. It felt good to be away from Rockland Cove. His mother trusted him at age sixteen probably more than most parents would. Maybe it was because she was single and expected him to act more grown up.

  Truth was since his father’s death he had been forced to grow up fast; to become streetwise. He was torn over his relationship with Rachael. The way she had stood by while they injected him with heroin. Most guys would have run for the hills. But there was something in her that he was attracted to. Something that told him she was just a puppet in Danny’s game. That she could in some way be saved from it all. That was the only reasoning he could give to why he was seeking out this drug contact. He imagined in his mind that if he could just hang in a little longer that somehow he could persuade Rachael to walk away from it all.

  He knew she was tired of following Danny’s orders. But like him, she was lacking a father figure in her life. Her own father might as well have been dead. He was never around. He needed more time to think it through. Find a way to help her to see that her involvement with Danny was only going to lead to a prison sentence. He would need her to get off that shit too. But now he had tasted it himself. And God it felt good. He could see why people got addicted to it. It took away all the pain he felt inside. For a brief few hours he felt as if everything bad that had happened in his life was now a distant memory. Nothing could touch him. It was beautiful, and yet he knew logically it wasn’t. It eventually would take you down. Strip you of everything you had and eventually kill you.

  When he returned to Brooklyn, he had to head over to a housing estate near Vinegar Hill called Farragut Houses. It was a rundown section of Brooklyn. Tall brown buildings with too many apartments. All Danny had given him was a scrap of paper with an address and a name — Spike.

  He was nervous when he showed up there. Outside a group of black teens played basketball. They glared at him as he followed a path that led up to the entrance. One of them broke off and was heading in his direction. He didn’t like this one bit. He’d heard of people being mugged in New York all the time. They didn’t think twice. They would slash, stab, or shoot you.

  He entered the building and took one look at the dirty elevator and opted to take the stairs. As he entered the stairwell he looked at all the graffiti sprayed over the walls. People’s tags and obscene images stood out among the grime and bubblegum that covered what used to be white paint. He had to go to the fourteenth floor, apartment 501. He began to climb, realizing this was going to take a while. It smelled like piss and shit inside the stairwell. For a few seconds he had considered leaving. But as he gazed down below, he heard someone come in. He assumed it was the black guy who had broken off from the group of basketball players. On his way up the stairs he saw a couple of kids playing. A mother sat outside. The moment she saw him, she grabbed her kids and dragged them inside. A drunk was asleep on one floor with a brown paper bag covering his liquor. He stepped over the puke that was close by and continued on up.

  Behind him he could hear the sound of someone climbing the steps fast. He was only at the sixth floor. Nervous, he ducked into the hallway and waited until he heard them go by. He gave it a minute or two. A dim, sickly looking yellow light flickered above him. He saw several teens down the far end of the hallway coming on to some girl. Everything about this place felt wrong. Like all the worst of New York had been crammed into one building. He went back to the stairwell and continued climbing.

  It took him a while to reach the fourteenth floor. Whoever owned this place had not bothered to fix it up. Jason stepped over what was without a doubt piss. To think that someone had stepped into the stairwell to relieve themselves was sick.

  When he reached apartment 501 he knocked and looked at the peephole. He had no idea what he was meant to be picking up from them. All he had was a backpack, that was it. He didn’t expect he would be carrying out large amounts of heroin, or was that the plan? He hoped not.

  From outside he heard footsteps approach the door. They paused, obviously someone was looking through the peephole before opening up.

  It was the same guy he’d seen from the basketball court.

  12

  Outside the police station, Jack breathed in deeply, casting a glance over his shoulder. He knew they would be following him. The fact that they had released him even though he had broken into Eddie’s place was a complete givea
way. He surveyed the area, gazing down at the business card Frank had given him. His number and address were on the back. There were cop cars lined up and several unmarked vehicles. First order of business was making sure they were off his tail.

  He sat on the steps to gather his thoughts. Since arriving at Eddie’s he hadn’t had a chance to think about where he should look. The only thing creeping through his mind was what did they have on him? He didn’t want to go back to prison. He wouldn’t. With Gafino’s crew gone, the only other crime family that would have tried to step into his shoes would have been Leo Carlone’s. He couldn’t exactly walk in there after killing his son.

  Jack wrapped his jacket around him tightly. The wind kicked up snow from snowdrifts. He started heading east, keeping a close eye on the road to see who was following. Within a matter of minutes he caught sight of an unmarked car. They weren’t exactly good at staying out of sight. Did they really think they could follow him at this time of the year? There were even more people on the streets in preparation for the New Year’s celebrations. As he approached an entrance that led down into the subway, he glanced back and saw the car pull to the side. Not wasting another second he dashed down the stairs and broke into a full sprint. The underground was packed with people coming and going. He felt like a fish trying to go upstream.

  He cast a glance over his shoulder. Above the crowd he could see the two men in plain clothes struggling to get through the mass of people. He could hear the sound of a train coming in. He nearly lost his footing as he shot down the stairs. Several New Yorkers cursed him. In a matter of seconds the train would be leaving. As he pushed his way forward, his heart was pounding in his chest. Sweat poured off him.

  The doors were closing on the train when he shot through the gap. They sealed shut, and the train pulled away. He glanced at the two men who looked worn out and exasperated.

  He slumped down on a torn-up leather seat and breathed a sigh of relief.

  Back at the housing project, Jason had been brought into what initially looked like one apartment. They had patted him down and checked to make sure he didn’t have any wires. What he discovered though was they had knocked down the walls between three other apartments beside it and set up the entire place for storing, cutting, and bagging heroin and crack.

  Spike was at least six foot three, with an athletic build and a shaved head. He had tattoos all over his body. He introduced him to three people who he called his associates. They were sitting on a sofa. One of them was doing some blow. Jason spotted a handgun on the table.

  “So Danny said you had something for me to collect?”

  Spike nodded to another guy and he went into the next room. A few minutes later he came back with two black suitcases. He slammed them on the table and popped the locks. Inside were stacks of heroin. Jason’s eyes widened. There was no way in hell he was going to be caught with that amount on him. He had thought it was a small bag, something he could easily stash.

  “Give me a second.”

  Jason made a phone call to Danny. He walked into another room.

  “What is it?”

  “You never told me how much you wanted me to bring back. I can’t bring that back.”

  “Do you want to repeat what you just said?”

  Jason paused. He knew he was walking on eggshells. This was a bad situation. These thugs had guns and all it would take was one word from Danny and he would end up dead.

  “Listen, Danny, think about this. I’ve got to walk across town with these and come up with some excuse to my mother. We are sharing the same suitcase. Do you see what I mean here?”

  “Not my problem. You just bring them back or else.”

  Jason didn’t even want to ask what “or else” meant, he knew.

  “Now are we good?”

  “Yeah,” Jason reluctantly replied.

  Jason strolled back into the room where the four black guys were talking among themselves.

  “Any problem?”

  “No,” Jason replied. “So I guess I’ll be going.”

  Spike let out a slight laugh. “Are you serious? We still need payment.”

  “What? Didn’t Danny pay you?”

  Spike glanced back at the others. “Are you telling me you showed up here without any green?”

  “Danny said I was just picking up. I’m as surprised as you are. I can get him back on the phone.”

  “Fuck that shit. What the fuck is this?”

  Oh shit. This was about to go bad real quick. How could he have sent me in here knowing full well that he hadn’t paid them, he thought.

  Jason tossed his hands in the air. “Look, I don’t know what kind of arrangement you have with Danny but I can reassure you. I was just told to pick up. I’m not involved beyond that.”

  “Maybe we’ll keep you as payment until he sends the money.”

  Spike pulled a gun from behind his back and placed it against Jason’s head. All the color in Jason’s face washed out. Fear was the thing overriding his senses.

  “Get him on the phone,” Spike said.

  Jason hit the speed dial then handed the phone to him. Spike kept the gun against his temple while he took the phone.

  “What the fuck is this, Danny? We don’t owe you shit. In fact, you owe us for that lost shipment.”

  Jason could barely hear what Danny was saying but he was close enough that he could just make out the gist of the conversation. It seemed that a package had been lost or taken by the feds. With no money exchanged, Danny felt he was owed a new batch of heroin and wouldn’t pay until it arrived. However, Spike didn’t see it that way. He thought that maybe Danny was trying to screw them over. He believed that maybe the feds weren’t involved and that Danny had received the package and was now trying to get more.

  “I will shoot your boy right here and now.”

  Jason heard Danny tell him to go ahead. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. God, he had been so stupid to get wrapped up with Danny.

  Spike hung up.

  “Seems he doesn’t give a shit. So we’re going to send a message to him and send you back in little pieces.”

  “Listen, I know Danny has screwed you over. But I swear I didn’t know anything about that.”

  He pressed the gun hard enough against his head that he leaned to one side against the wall.

  “Means nothing to me.”

  “I can get you money. Whatever you need. Just don’t shoot me.”

  Spike glared.

  “How?”

  “I have a guy. He can have it here within the next hour. I just need to let him know.”

  Spike handed him the phone. Jason could tell he was a hair’s-breadth away from being shot. He took the phone and hit speed dial on the number for Jack. Jack picked up.

  “Where are you?” Jack asked.

  “You know that thing we were talking about earlier? Yeah, I’m gonna need you to bring it.”

  “Jason?”

  “And within the next hour or I’m going to be eating more than a big apple.”

  “Where are you?”

  13

  At Leo Carlone’s restaurant heated words were being exchanged. Dominick and Anthony had brought Milly back without Leo even giving the go-ahead.

  “Are you out of your fucking minds? Why the hell would you bring her here?” Leo said to Vito.

  “Leo, you want this man? Then you have to do it our way.”

  “Your way? Your way is going to get us killed.”

  “What you have done up to now hasn’t worked.”

  “You don’t get it, do you? You honestly don’t know who you are dealing with?”

  “We know enough to make us question our association with you,” Vito replied.

  “You just opened a can of worms. He’ll come.”

  “Exactly and when he does we will be ready.”

  Leo shook his head. The door to the joint swung open and three of his own men came in. They seemed out of breath.

  “We just got word f
rom our guy over at the station that he’s in the city. He’s staying at a Hilton on the Lower East Side with a woman and her son.”

  “Dominick, Anthony, go,” Vito commanded.

  “You aren’t…”

  “Aren’t what? We will do whatever it takes.”

  The restaurant cleared as Vito’s men headed for the hotel.

  It had taken Jack the better part of forty minutes to get over to the apartment block. By midafternoon the city was teeming with people. The celebrations had already begun. Bars were overflowing and the city was abuzz. He had no idea of what he was walking into, only that whatever Jason had got himself involved in, it was trouble.

  He’d cringed when Jason gave him the address. Farragut Houses had been known as a housing project where drug deals were the norm, even five years ago. He’d been out there numerous times when he worked for Gafino. Back then though it was different. Gafino controlled who distributed. They all worked for him in one capacity or another. Most of the foot soldiers, as he liked to call them, answered to one of their own. In their mind he was the boss. But he had a boss, and so did his boss, until you reached Gafino at the top. The DEA were always trying to get to Gafino and they had come close numerous times. They would bust an operation and offer them a deal. A lesser sentence if they squealed on who they were working for. The problem for the DEA was that the foot soldiers weren’t afraid of them. They were terrified of what would happen to them inside the pen for ratting. So many just took the hit, did their time, and the cycle continued.

  Only once had Gafino paid Jack to go out to Farragut Houses and kill someone. He had been running his own business on the side. Most of them wouldn’t dare do it. It was usually the ones that were using themselves.

  As Jack approached the main entrance he glanced up at the window where it all happened. His thoughts of that day were forever embedded in his mind. He had been twenty-two at the time. He hadn’t built a reputation at that point, but in time he would.