Escape, Dead End

by David Antocci

  Abby eased her way to the door, crouched low as she whispered, “I’ll go low, you go high, on three.”

  Gripping her gun with her right hand, she used the fingers on her left to count down 3...2...1...

  They burst through the door at the same time, guns drawn, searching for a target and finding none.

  Abby looked at the clock on the wall. It was five minutes to eight, and the blinds on the front windows were still drawn. She relaxed and turned back to the small room where they had come from, looking at the coffee pot. “Must be on a timer.”

  “Geez.” Donny almost laughed. “That’s a helluva way to wake up.”

  She smiled. “It’ll get the blood flowing anyway.”

  With the coffee already made, they figured his little back room was probably the accountant’s first stop when he got in. They poured some coffee for themselves and waited.

  It was a few minutes after eight when they heard a key in the front door and the deadbolt turn. They put their coffees down, drew their guns, and eased behind the door so they would not be seen when he entered the room.

  As they suspected, after opening the blinds and putting down his briefcase, John Venzo came waltzing into the back room for a cup of Joe.

  ***

  Driving into the city, John was counting down the days he had left to make this damned commute. He had a nice little house just outside the city—a modest place, nice lawn, and a little back yard for his son to play in. Every morning he wondered if he would be coming back.

  He wasn’t worried about getting killed in a mob hit or anything like that. Rosso made sure that he was insulated from all of the more exciting parts of the family, and for that, John was thankful. Besides, since the Rossos had won their war with the Patrizios, there were no other powerful families to pose a threat. It was a nice situation to be in.

  No, John’s concern was with the feds. Specifically, how quickly could they relocate him and his family into witness protection once the old man died and he turned over all the evidence needed to lock up the remaining family? He felt no remorse for betraying the family. He hated the life; always looking over his shoulder, hiding money here and there, coming into the city every day.

  Unbeknownst to him at the time, Rosso had given his mother money to pay for John’s college education. When he got out, he wasn’t given a choice: work for the family, or his mother had to pay back the loan in twenty-four hours. Eighty thousand dollars was more than she kept laying around, so working for the family it was.

  He knew the feds had to be on to what his small but very profitable firm was doing for Rosso, and he left a few breadcrumbs here and there until they showed up at his front door about a month ago.

  They knew Rosso was sick and were looking to shut down the entire operation. John was the key, and they ironically made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. He and his family would be relocated to the Northwest, with every need taken care of. John would teach economics at a quiet state university to keep busy, and they would lead the life that he and his wife had been dreaming of for years.

  As he entered the back room, he wondered if today might be the day. Last he heard, Rosso only had a few days left. His instructions were to keep everything running as quietly as ever after Rosso passed, and then report directly to Franco. Nothing else would change.

  As he went to pour himself a mug from the ten cup coffee pot, he noticed it was only half full.

  “What the...”

  He heard a woman’s voice behind him, cold as steel. “Turn around, and make it slow.”

  ***

  John turned, his arms instinctively raised. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”

  “No joke,” Abby smiled. “I don’t want to hurt you, but you need to help me. If you do, you’ll be fine.”

  John put his hands down and turned to pick up his coffee. Taking a sip, he replied calmly, “Why don’t you put the gun down and tell me what you want?”

  Abby looked at Donny, a bit confused.

  John laughed. “You think you scare me? You know who I am, right? This isn’t the first time I’ve had a gun in my face, honey.” He looked back and forth between his two captors, then over Donny’s shoulder. “What’s that?”

  As the two instinctively looked behind Donny, John rushed toward the front room ahead of them, going for his gun. He fumbled with the drawer before finding his gun and whirling it around, stopping Abby and Donny dead in their tracks

  “Put down the gun!” John yelled.

  Abby lowered her gun to the floor and held up her hands.

  Donny seemed surprised that she acquiesced so quickly but followed her lead and did the same.

  John smiled at Donny. “You don’t scare me. I know who you are, and Rosso is going to have you fuckin’ drawn and quartered if I tell him you came here threatening me. I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m not telling you shit. Now why don’t you and your little girlfriend get out of here before things end badly for you? If you’re lucky, I won’t tell Rosso about this.”

  Abby slowly moved forward. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I need your help. Come on. Put the gun down and let’s talk.”

  “Stop right there. Don’t take another step.”

  She continued forward as she spoke. “You’re not going to shoot me, John. Come on, put it down before someone gets hurt.”

  “I will shoot you. Don’t take another step.”

  She shook her head and stepped forward again. John’s hand slightly shaking, the gun aimed vaguely at her chest.

  “Put it down, Jo...”

  The click of the gun’s hammer harmlessly hitting the bullet free chamber silenced the room. The accountant was stunned and pulled the trigger again and again.

  “Looking for these?” Abby produced a handful of bullets from her pocket and let them spill from her hand onto the carpet.

  John stared at the bullets, speechless.

  Donny actually laughed out loud.

  Abby moved so fast, neither man had a second to react. In one swift motion, she grabbed John’s left hand, slammed it into the wall just to the side of his head, and drove the blade of her knife through his palm, nailing his hand to the drywall.

  He screamed, eyes bulging at the sight of the large blade pierced through his hand. Abby held her hand over his mouth to muffle his screams as she yelled in his face. “Do I have your attention? I asked you nicely to help me. Now shut up and listen.”

  John managed to stifle his screaming though the pain was still intense.

  “I’m going to take my hand away,” Abby said. “If you scream, the knife won’t be going into your hand next time. Got it?”

  John nodded.

  She took her hand away, and he alternately gasped for air and glanced at his hand as blood starting trickling from the wound.

  Abby took a step back and pointed her gun at him. “I didn’t want it to go this way. Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

  “OK, alright,” he said, catching his breath. “What do you want?”

  Abby smiled and looked at Donny. “Now that’s more like it, isn’t it?”

  Donny smiled back. Wow, was all he could think.

  “Now,” Abby said, shifting her weight from side to side. “It’s pretty simple. There is a particular piece of shit named Bryce Haydenson laundering money for you. He kidnapped my daughter, so you’re going to tell me where I can find him.”

  John shook his head. “You’ve got something mixed up there. Haydenson is dead, at least a year now.”

  “No, he’s not. He’s alive, he’s laundering money for the family, and you’re going to tell me where he is.”

  “I can’t,” John said. “You’re wrong. I swear he’s dead. And if he were alive, I’d have no idea where he would be. The money laundering goes through here, but I’m on a need-to-know. Rosso keeps me in the dark. Ask him yourself if you want.”

  “I did. He told me Bryce is alive, and he’s upstate laundering money. It was the last thing
he said before he died right in front of me. Now, I’ll believe you that you don’t know where he is, but you’re going to tell me how to find him, or you’re going to join Rosso.”

  She stared into his eyes and studied the pain and confusion on his face. He obviously hadn’t heard, which was a good thing. Is he gonna break?

  A photo on his desk caught her eye. It was John, with a woman too attractive for him, and a young boy. She turned back to him with a stare, “And then they’re next. Got it?”

  “Fine!” He spat the words out. “Fine. Christ, just get this thing out of my hand!” He had so much adrenaline pumping through his veins, he could hardly feel the pain—at least until Abby ripped the knife cleanly back out through the wound, drawing a yelp from him.

  Donny had already located a first aid kit and tossed some gauze pads and medical tape at him. “Why don’t you clean that up before you get blood all over the place?” He leaned down toward Abby and whispered, “Nice job. You had me a little freaked out, though. When did you take the bullets out of the gun?”

  She winked. “I’m full of surprises these days, huh?”

  They allowed John a few seconds to sit down and dress his wound before getting back to business.

  “So, how do we find him?” Abby asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve got an idea. But it’s all I’ve got, I swear.”

  “Let’s hear it,” Donny said.

  “You said upstate, so I’m assuming you’re talking about New York.”

  “That’s the only upstate I know,” Abby conceded.

  John nodded. “The majority of the cash gets shuffled around here in the city. Into one business, out to another, lots of cash-heavy places. Bars, restaurants, you know, stuff like that. We don’t do everything in town though. We’ve got a monthly drop that goes to Vegas. I know, cliché’ right? But if you want to clean a ton of cash that’s still the best place to do it. There’s another out of town drop too, but I don’t know where the money winds up. Every Monday at ten in the morning, two guys show up with New York tags on the car. I hand them an envelope with $9,900, and they disappear for another week.”

  “Any idea where they go?” Abby asked.

  John shook his head. “No, I’ve never seen them around here. I always figured they were bound for NYC. They’re the only contact I have with New York, I swear.”

  Abby was curious, “Why such a specific amount? $9,900?”

  John opened his mouth, but Donny spoke up, “Any deposit a business makes over $10k the banks have to report to the feds. Laundering 101: don’t move too much cash at once, or you’ll get pinched. Right, John?”

  He nodded. “We can only do so much in the city. That’s why we have the Vegas drop. And New York.”

  “So we’re looking for a business upstate.” Abby was lost in thought for a moment, and then sighed, looking at Donny. “Where the hell do we start?”

  Donny glanced at his watch. “In a little more than an hour it looks like.”

  Abby furrowed her brow.

  “Today’s Monday,” he said. “If what he’s sayin’ is true, our two guys from New York will be here for the drop in about an hour and a half. We grab ‘em and ask where they’re going, or we can just follow ‘em.”

  Abby tried to play it off that she knew that, but couldn’t. She was exhausted and had completely forgotten what day of the week it was.

  Donny smiled at her. “It’s alright. You’ve got a lot on your mind.”

  “I guess we should get comfortable, then.” Abby noticed John examining his newly bandaged hand, “You’ll be OK. The knife went in pretty clean, I don’t think I hit bone.”

  The three spent an awkward time together over the next hour. They considered tying John up, but that didn’t make any sense given that he would have to be untied to make the hand-off to the New York guys. For the time being, he seemed cooperative, so they simply asked him to sit and stay quiet, and he obliged.

  “Can I at least have my coffee?” John asked.

  Abby granted him that, and the three occupied his office in silence until the shrill ring of the telephone made them jump. Abby looked at the old-school, desk-mounted phone. That thing must be thirty years old, she thought.

  “I should answer it,” John said.

  Abby nodded. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  John lifted the receiver, and Donny leaned in close so he could hear both ends of the conversation.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, John, it’s Mark.”

  “Oh, hi. What’s going on?”

  Donny mouthed, Who’s Mark?

  John covered the receiver and whispered, “One of the guys coming for the drop.”

  “Listen, I dunno if you heard,” Mark continued, “but I guess some shit went down at Rosso’s last night. Did you hear?”

  “No, no, I didn’t. What happened?” John said, feigning surprise.

  “I guess the old man is dead; some of the other guys, too. I dunno, I didn’t get the whole thing, but the place got hit pretty hard.”

  “Holy shit! The feds?”

  “I don’t think so, but we don’t wanna take no chances. We’re not coming this morning.”

  Donny pulled away and looked at John, whispering harshly, No, get him here! You get him here!

  Abby pulled her blade from its sheath and tapped the family photo on the desk. John got the message.

  “Mark, um...” John thought for a second. “If something did go down, I’ve got to get this cash out of here. You can’t skip the drop. If something did go down, Rosso’s instructions are to go ahead with business as usual. The old man knew he didn’t have long, so him being dead is no surprise to anyone.”

  “I know, but I’m not comfortable gettin’ too close to things, ya know?”

  “Listen, I haven’t heard anything, and there’s nothing going on here at the office. It’s me, my coffee, and a bunch of numbers. The usual alright? I’ll make some phone calls, but in the meantime, I’ve got to get the cash out of here. Swing by, grab the envelope, and hit the road. No one will ever know you were here. Same as always.”

  Mark was quiet on the other end. He knew his boss probably needed the weekly influx of cash.

  “Mark...”

  “Fine. We’ll be by in thirty, but if we get pinched, I swear to God you’re a fuckin’ dead man. Got it?”

  “Loud and clear.” John smiled. He was used to being threatened. It seemed to have become a way of life in the past couple of hours anyway. “See you at ten.” He hung up the phone and looked at Abby. “Happy?”

  “Yes, very. You did fine,” she assured him. “They usually park right out front?”

  “Yeah, they pull up to the curb. They’re not in here for more than five minutes.”

  Abby looked at Donny. “We should be down the street a bit. We’ll pull out in traffic behind them and follow at a safe distance. Sound good?”

  “You got it,” Donny said. He looked at John. “We’re going to need your car.”

  “Of course,” John said, rolling his eyes. He opened his briefcase and tossed the keys to Donny.

  Abby caught the lid as he tried to close it. She reached in and removed his wallet from a pocket in the briefcase. She flipped through it and found what she was looking for. Sliding his license from its slot, she read his address aloud. “Evanston, that’s some nice real estate out there.”

  “It is,” John conceded, swallowing uncomfortably.

  Abby slid his license into her front pocket. “If you breathe a word to anyone about me being here—if you give these guys any kind of warning—I will hunt you down. You will make the handoff and go about your day as though absolutely nothing happened. Is that clear?”

  John nodded.

  “Good.” Abby looked at her watch. “If they’re coming at ten, we should go. It’s going to take us a couple of minutes to get into position.”

  “Let’s do it.” Donny pointed at John. “You heard what the lady said, right? We’re not screwing around.�
��

  “Don’t worry,” John assured them. “You don’t want any trouble, and neither do I.”

  As Abby and Donny walked down the alleyway to retrieve John’s car, she asked, “Do you really think we can trust him?”

  “I think so. He knows we mean business, and he knows we’ve got his address. He’ll play nice.”

  “I guess we don’t have any choice, do we?”

  “Nope.” Donny unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for Abby. “Come on.”

  ***

  John sat behind his desk waiting for Mark to come through the door. He tried to act casual and sip his coffee, but the full weight of what was happening had started to settle on him and he was nervous. If Rosso was really dead, he had some phone calls to make. Specifically to the feds, and to his wife to tell her it was time.

  For now, he had to concentrate on the task at hand.

  Mark walked through the door, gut first as usual, his slicked-back hair almost dripping with product. He attracted attention wherever he was, mostly because his labored breathing made it appear as if he had just completed a marathon even though he had only walked the ten feet from the car to the front door.

  “Hey, John.”

  “How are you, Mark?”

  Mark looked around suspiciously. “Fine. Listen, I don’t wanna be rude, but let’s make this quick. I wanna get outta town, ya know?”

  John walked over to a large cabinet and opened it to reveal an ancient safe. With a couple flicks of the wrist, he dialed the combination.

  “What happened to your hand?”

  John looked down. “It’s stupid. I was trying to get the pit out of an avocado and slipped. Cut my hand wide open.”

  “That’s what you get for eatin’ fuckin’ vegetables.” Mark’s glottal laugh seemed to squeeze itself out exclusively through the folds where his neck should have been.

  John grabbed a medium-sized yellow envelope with exactly $9,900 in it and handed it to Mark, who slid it into his briefcase and nodded to John.

  “Nice doin’ business with ya, Johnny. Take it easy.”