by Frank Zafiro
Then I point on the park map again, at a spot along the gently curving pathway. “That will leave Viktor Skansi and his wife in the middle, right about here. He might have a gun, but I bet not. Even if he does, he’ll be no match. Him and the old lady die right the fuck there.”
Andros is nodding, looks at me briefly and then back to the map.
“I take out Viktor, and Andros, you take out the old lady. Go straight at her with no hesitation. We do ‘em both at the same time. Don’t even look my way, Andros. I got the old bastard. Even if he’s carrying a damn bazooka, I got him. Afterward, we make sure on both of them. There can’t be no miraculous recoveries for these two in the ICU at Northwestern Hospital. It won’t be pretty, know what I’m saying? So, any questions yet?”
I look at the two. Andros smiles at me and shakes his head no.
“But, what should I do?” Dobry looks at Andros, then at me. “What is my job here?” He holds his hands out, palms up.
“Thought you’d never ask, rookie. As soon as Andros and I start firing, you take out the first guy. The statue guy. I want you right here.” I point again at the map. “Behind this hedge, it will be perfect, close to where Andros says the guy waits for them to circle the square and head back.”
Dobry nods and points. “Tak.”
“Our guns will be quiet but you’ll still hear them cough from where you’re at. Hit him quick because he’ll hear them too. As soon as your man is down — and make sure with him, too — you head straight the fuck to the car. Don’t look back, just go. Get to the car, get it started and you wait for us.”
Dobry is looking better, almost like he’s ready to rock and roll. Of course we’re not at the park and he’s not waiting behind a tree yet. And he can’t hear that guy walking toward him, down the sidewalk, getting closer.
“Dobrze?” Andros is looking at him too. “Dobry. Okay with this?”
“Tak. Tak. Dobrze.” He even grins, looking first at Andros and then me.
I did it this way for a couple of reasons. I figure he, and we for that matter, would be better off with him out of the big party. It would be pretty easy for Dobry to knock this single guy down from behind and then get the fuck back to the car and be ready to drive us out.
Now, I know I was right. He is all over this plan. Relieved almost.
“You don’t even think about leaving unless you get a call from Andros or me. Domyslny?”
“Understood.” He leans back a little and looks at us. “Tak.”
“Three more things and they’re fuckin’ important. Again, we make sure all of them are stone dead. If you need to put another clip in, do it, but put the old clip in your pocket. Two, no talk between us and sure as hell no names. Three, anyone — and I mean a jogger, a young couple, an innocent bystander — anyone gets in the way, sees you or gets in the line of fire, they go down too.”
After that, I go over the whole thing again. Then, once more. It’s a little after three in the afternoon when I quit. We were as ready as we were gonna be.
“Eat if you’re hungry and just relax for a little bit. Four thirty, we gear up, check everything and then head out at five sharp. Five thirty comes, we’re already in the park, in position and waiting.”
Its ten till six and we’ve all been where we should be for a good twenty minutes. I’m tucked in behind a thick, shoulder high hedge and the huge trunk of a maple tree. Behind me is nothing but a little empty park bench and a small clearing. I keep looking back there just to make sure, but there’s nobody around and hardly anybody in the whole park.
Sun just went down but there’s still plenty of light.
I’m holding the Ruger in my jacket pocket with an extra clip in there too. It feels good. Safety is off and I’m ready to rock. I can see the gazebo that Andros is behind and it’s pretty close to me. The path curls right around by where I am and then heads over to him by the gazebo. When the lead guy finally goes by, I’ll be able to almost spit on him, he’ll be that close.
It’s five till now and I’m jazzed. A controlled jazz. I’m way ready and all my senses are at the max. It’s like I just did two lines of primo coke.
At six sharp, I hunker down a little more, with only one eye barely poking around the big tree trunk.
Couple of minutes past six and there he is. I see the first guard coming around the bend of the path. Three or four long seconds go by and then behind him comes the wheel chair into view. The old lady is being pushed along by the old bastard himself, Viktor Skansi. Lead guard is maybe 30 yards away from me now and coming.
It’s show time. I pull the gun and reach for my mask. Earlier I told the other two to wait until the last second on the mask. Last thing you want is some jogger to be trotting along with ten minutes to go and start a problem when he sees guys with masks.
I hear it behind me then, some rustling and then a soda can plinks against something. Whipping around, I put the gun on whatever it is and I’m staring at a guy in a park district uniform. Big ugly asshole, mouth open and gawking at me. He’s holding one of those poker things and has a large garbage bag strapped on his shoulder. I pull the mask up from my collar and draw down on him.
“You stay right there, you fuck. Don’t move, don’t talk.” I hissed it in a whisper. They’re too fucking close to just take him right now. Fuck me. He points at me and then he grins. The bastard is grinning at me. But he doesn’t move or say anything.
I shoot a quick peek back to the path and the lead guard is right there, not twenty yards from where I’m at. Turning back to the park district fuck, I just catch a last glimpse of him, all squatted down and bolting like a scalded dog. He lumbers around a hedge corner and out of view, heading south. Away from this shit, at least. Fuck.
I turn back to our business. There has been no talk from any of the Russians as they’ve shuffled past. The lead guy is almost even with the gazebo now, Skansi about 15 yards in front of where I am and the rear guard just passed me. I circle around the back of tree trunk, timing it with my guard’s walk, so I have a clear path to get to him.
I can see the gazebo good. My guy is bored, isn’t looking around at all and I step out from the tree a little more. Just when I do, I see a slight movement by the gazebo and I hear two quick muffled pops up ahead. Gun straight out and steady, I walk quickly to my man. Andros with his stocking mask on, is up ahead, coming my way. His guy is on both knees, I hear two more pops from Andros.
My guard is frozen for a second with what’s going on right in front of him. Taking it all in and trying to process it I guess. He finally raises a pistol but I put one directly into the back of his skull from about six feet. The guy’s head explodes like a ripe melon. Fucker is down, gone. He flops onto his gut, hands out and his head bounces on the concrete walk. I keep my walk going and I put one in his left ear as I pass him.
Quick, no fucking around, like we need it to be. All of this has probably happened in twenty seconds. Max.
I‘ve had my eye on Skansi now since my first shot and the old man is standing there with his hands up a little but out sideways too. He looks at me, then at Andros and back to me. He’s stepping away from the old lady slowly and her head is swiveling around like a spinning top.
In the distance, and its gotta be Dobry, I barely hear two pops — but then a louder crack. Not good.
Skansi decides to make a break for some trees and a hedge line about twenty feet away. He don’t move so well anymore. I hit him in the upper thigh and he goes down real hard on his side, but right away he’s trying to crawl. I have plenty of shots left but as I’m walking up on him I pop out the clip, put it in my pocket and clack in the new clip.
I close right in on the old man now, watching his hands reaching for a gun or something but I know and he knows too, this game is over. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Andros walking quickly, ruthless and heartless, towards the old lady. He reminds me of that Terminator movie. She might outright die before he even shoots her.
I hear two more soft pops f
rom Dobry’s gun in the distance. C’mon kid, what the fuck you doin’? Just take your guy out.
Skansi has left a trail of blood in the grass and dirt and he rolls over to look up at me.
“Baaastard.” His voice is weak but the look on his face is pure hate. “You Polack pig.” He spits blood at my leg.
“Yes Viktor, that’s right. And hey, I’m also the pig that killed your sissy ass son Bogdan, too. Just wanted you to know that.” I watch as he realizes what I had just said and his eyes focus on me harder. I give him my best smile.
Three measured shots, one in the forehead one in the left eye. The third, well, it just kinda goes into the middle of the scrambled mess.
As I turn to Andros, I hear a weak scream cutoff with a pop and see the old lady’s head bounce hard up against the back of the wheelchair. She goes all limp but stays upright and only her head falls to one shoulder. Andros takes what is offered to him and puts another shot in her temple.
We look at each other and I twirl my finger around in the air. He heads off in one direction and me in another.
Two minutes later, other side of the park, and I approach the car. Both my guys are already in the car. My mask is down around my collar again and it looks like a scarf, my reversible jacket is now red, instead of blue.
I should be happy as the sirens I hear are still off in the distance and I see nothing around the car or street that says trouble. We’re home free, done deal and I got some big money waiting for me back at the hotel.
I get in and Patrik’s boys are grinning ear to ear. We drive off slow and careful, zigzagging our way down residential streets. We get farther and farther away from the park. Nothing behind us. Like I said, I should be happy. We fucking did it, did it perfect. All of them are dead. It was a clean hit. Almost.
Problem is, all I can see is that park district worker. What were the fucking chances he would be standing there? He saw me good, too. That big, ugly asshole with the long giraffe neck had made me.
Kos, yeah, that’s his name. The big bouncer that I had gotten into it with at Ambrozy’s. Made him look like a pussy, told him I was gonna hurt him. Made him run off like a little girl.
When he pointed at me and smiled, I had finally recognized him. I knew who he was.
I also knew I was fucked.
Seriously.
EIGHTEEN
Mick
The door swung open and I clocked him right on the point of the chin.
The force of the blow hurt my knuckles. From the stunned, cross-eyed look of surprise and pain on his face, I’d say it hurt Stevie boy more. He staggered back two steps, then his knees gave way. He fell like the bucket of shit he was.
I walked through the open doorway and snapped the door shut behind me. An electric thrill pulsed through my body and out through my limbs. This was different than when I was on the job. Different even than when the Czechs rolled into Eddie’s Diner a few days ago. This was raw.
Steve recovered from the punch. He clambered to his feet, raising his fists. But his face was full of questions.
Well, I had answers.
They teach you on the street that the best defense is a good offense. They must teach merchant marines the same thing. Steve threw a looping punch with his right hand. He wasn’t quite as big as Jerzy but he was close. He might have been a little quicker, too. It didn’t matter, though. I ducked under the punch, side-stepped and hooked one right into his solar plexus.
Steve grunted and hit his knees again.
I didn’t hesitate. I sent a left straight across his jaw. I stepped into it, all hips and shoulder and follow through. Steve toppled to the floor, his eyelids fluttering. If this had been a middleweight bout, the referee wouldn’t have even bothered with the count.
I squatted down next to his head and waited. I could hear the unmistakable squeak of shoes on the basketball court on the TV in the other room. The Bulls, I realized. They’d sneaked into the playoffs. I’d interrupted Steve’s little fan fest.
With a groan, he came to. He gave his head a short little shake to clear it, then looked up and saw me. I thought about jacking him in the face another one, but the expression he bore stopped me.
Steve was broken.
That easy.
“Who…who are you?” he croaked.
“I’m just the guy who’s been banging your woman while you’re away,” I said with a tight smile.
Anger flashed in his eyes, but not enough to overcome his caution. He said nothing.
“You probably knew that,” I said. “Or at least suspected. That’s why you punched on her, right?”
Steve didn’t reply.
I leaned forward slightly. My smile melted away and I gave him a hard look. “Right?”
“Yeah.” He had the look of defeat, of resignation.
“Well, she’s done with you,” I told him. “Leave her alone. You got me?”
He nodded.
“Or I come back,” I added.
“Yeah,” he said. “I got it.”
I rose to my feet. I was done here. Time to go tell Connie it was finished. And that she needed to get her own place, because she wasn’t staying with me. I might still-
Steve’s hand shot out and grabbed my ankle. Before I could react, he jerked it toward him. I lost my balance and hit the floor hard. Steve’s other hand clamped onto my upper leg. The son of a bitch was strong. His grip hurt.
He let go of my ankle. I tried to slide away, but he grabbed onto my belt with his free hand. The fucker was climbing up me like a ladder.
A moment later, he let go of my leg and blasted a punch into my chest. I felt it coming a second before it landed and tensed. The blow sent a shock wave through my upper body.
Steve pulled back for another punch.
I drove my knee upward. The point of my knee caught him on the hip. I doubted it hurt much, but it knocked him off balance enough to interrupt his punch.
He reloaded.
I twisted sideways.
The punch landed on my upper arm, sending another shock wave through me. This one was sharper and I let out an involuntary yelp. The punch bounced off my arm and clipped my cheek.
“You like that, motherfucker?” Steve growled with satisfaction, and pulled back for another punch.
I whipped my hand up, fanning out my fingers and raking them across his eyes.
Steve screamed. He let go of me and both of his hands flew to his face. He rolled off to the side and curled up in a ball, rocking slightly.
I stood up slowly.
“I’m blind!” he yelled, his voice full of panic. “I’m blind!”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I sent a hard kick into his side. He was rocking toward me when it landed, so it was even harder than I’d hoped. His cries of blindness were cut short by his own strangled groan.
I could’ve kicked him again.
I could have kicked him a lot of agains.
But if I started, I don’t think I’d have stopped.
Instead, I said, “Remember this, Stevie, next time you think about thumping on Connie. Or anyone else, you fucking pussy.”
It didn’t feel as good as kicking him again, but maybe it would stick with him longer.
I walked out the door.
A block from Steve’s apartment, my phone chirped. I figured it was Connie, but it was a number I didn’t recognize. I thought about letting it go to voicemail, but something made me answer it.
“Hello?”
“Mick?” It was a woman’s voice. Not Connie’s, but still somehow familiar.
“Yeah. Who’s this?”
“It’s Ania.”
I stopped walking. Someone behind me must have been surprised by my sudden halt, because a body barreled into me. I staggered a step forward and turned around, half-expecting Steve back for round two. Instead, it was a short, squat Asian lady with her black purse tucked under her arm protectively. She glared at me.
“Sorry,” I said.
She didn’t reply, but av
erted her eyes and trudged around me.
“Sorry for what?” Ania asked, her tones velvet.
I moved to the side of the building. “Nothing,” I said. “Someone just bumped into me.”
“Oh,” she said. Then she asked, “Shouldn’t they be apologizing to you?”
“Probably,” I told her.
There was a silence during which neither of us spoke. The busy sounds of the city surrounded me, but I swear I could hear her breath on the other end of the line.
After a while, she asked, “You still there?”
“I’m here.”
“Okay. Good.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “Look, I called because I need to talk to you.”
“Okay. Let’s talk.”
“No,” she said. “In person.”
I swallowed. I remembered that smoldering gaze she sent my way at Gar’s funeral. Talking to her at the bar afterward.
“Sure,” I said.
“I’ll call you tonight, after I get off work? Say around ten? Or earlier, if I can arrange it.”
“All right.”
“We’ll figure out where then.”
“That’s fine.”
“Thanks.” Her tone rang sincere. For whatever reason, this was important to her.
“It’s no problem.”
She laughed a little. “Don’t say that yet. You might think different when we talk.”
I doubted it. She could ask me to strap on a filet mignon vest and jump into the lion exhibit at the zoo, and I think I’d still be happy to have that conversation in person.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” was all I said.
“Well, we’ll see,” she replied. “See you a little after ten.”
“See you then.”
She hung up. I stood there like a fool for a couple of seconds before closing the phone. It chirped immediately. A little bit of a thrill shot through my stomach when I thought it might be her calling me back, like some junior high boy getting a note from the pretty girl in class.