Escape, Dead End

by David Antocci

  This was not a restaurant that anyone would venture to guess was tied directly to the mob. If guests didn’t know better, they would think they were sitting in Tuscany.

  Bryce loved running the place. It was an unbelievable gig. Business was great, and that gave him a certain sense of pride, but it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. With the regular influx of cash from Chicago, the place would meet its bills and obligations regardless.

  He had been a terrible student, especially with math, which gave him pause when Rosso brought up laundering. However, it was such an easy gig that his problems with numbers didn’t matter. Each week a large batch of receipts were forged to explain the money coming in. The cash went to the bank, where it was then redistributed to his vendors for products never received. The vendors, of course, were also owned by companies tied to the family, and the money continued along until it came out clean a few more stops down the road, placed into purely legitimate business ventures the family had interests in.

  Directly under Bryce’s back office, in a small and secluded room in the basement, Ava slept for the first time in days. She sat upright, tied to a wooden chair, mouth gagged and duct-taped. After being awake for several days, however, her body had to shut down and recharge.

  There was only one way into the room: the bookcase behind Bryce’s desk was anchored to the wall on the left by a hinge, and had a small caster under the right so it swung out like a door, revealing a small, spiral staircase just large enough to walk down. The staircase had been a forgettable and inconvenient way to access the basement and the food storage room below, but was a major selling point when Bryce walked the property the first time. It could be his safe room, or a place to keep his enemies.

  After purchasing the property, Bryce walled off the corner of the basement entrance to the staircase, creating a narrow room that ran the length of the restaurant. It took up so little space and was so well integrated that not even someone familiar with the basement would realize it was there.

  This is where he kept most of his weapons, his second set of books, and anything that linked back to his old life. This also currently included Ava, whom he snuck down there in the middle of the night when the restaurant was empty.

  She was a scrappy one. Abby had obviously seen to it that Ava enrolled in some type of karate training. If there hadn’t been three men against one little girl, she might have gotten away. Bryce believed Ava not only inherited her mother’s diminutive stature, but also her spirit.

  With his finances taken care of, Bryce had plenty of time to dwell on the past. He had originally faked his death to draw Abby out. She knew his darkest secret—that he murdered Rosso’s son, Nick. Now, he had to make sure she never told anyone. Even now with Rosso at death’s door, his disloyalty to the family would not play well with the new regime.

  His plan had worked. He drew her out and murdered her and that good ol’ boy Eric. He stayed in hiding after that because the government still listed him as dead, and he saw no reason that that should keep him from enjoying a good life. No need to pop up on anyone’s radar again.

  A few months ago, however, he caught wind of an investigator out of Boston trying to get information on him. He had come to town trying to work the local snitches, saying he had reason to believe Bryce was alive. This did not sit well when word got back to Rosso, who demanded to know why anyone would be insinuating such things. Bryce assured Rosso there was nothing to worry about, but he knew better.

  Two people outside the family knew Bryce was alive. One of them was tied up in his basement; the other was Abby. If someone were asking about him, then that someone was either Abby or someone on her behalf.

  But Abby was dead. He had shot her himself. He saw the headlines the next day about her assassination at the hands of a mob hitman. He even attended her funeral, albeit sitting in the back in disguise.

  The only thing he could figure was that billionaire daddy stand-in Robert somehow helped her manipulate the media. He decided there was one surefire way to find out if Abby was dead. First, kidnap Ava, done handily by a couple of his thugs in the middle of the night. Second, get the word to one of the snitches that he was alive and well up at Lake Erie, which was done this morning.

  On the way to pick up the weekly drop from the accountant in the city, his guys stopped by a local coffee shop in the old neighborhood frequented by one of the snitches asking about Bryce. His men bellied their sizeable guts up to the counter a couple seats over from the snitch, and over some steak, eggs, and greasy hash browns, had an animated conversation that sounded more like old ladies gossiping than a couple of mobsters.

  “Did you hear about Haydenson?”

  “Who?”

  “Bryce Haydenson. You know, the one that masterminded the bank robbery last year that got all those guys killed.”

  “Oh, yeah, yeah, I remember him. The feds buried his ass, too.”

  “That’s the thing. They did, but I just heard from my buddy Ralphie that he’s alive!”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. Word is Rosso’s got him stashed in New York, living under the name Hunter Bryson.”

  “What the fuck kinda name is Hunter?”

  “Tell me about it.”

  What Bryce hadn’t foreseen was that the snitch would be ballsy enough to chat with his guys.

  “Hey, I heard you guys talkin’ about Rosso.”

  The two fat men turned to look at the wiry snitch. “Yeah, what of it?”

  “I don’t recognize you guys. Are you... ya know... in?”

  “What the fuck is it to you?”

  The snitch held his hands up, “Jeez, buddy, relax. I was just wonderin’ if you heard.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The house got hit last night. Everyone’s talkin’ about it.”

  This got the attention of the obese thugs, enough that one of them actually stopped cramming sausages down his throat for a split second. “What are you talking about, got hit?”

  The snitch leaned in, greedy for the attention, and whispered. “Got hit hit. Bloodbath. Word is even Rosso was taken out. One of the security guys, I forget his name, he was left half for dead and rung up one of Monte’s guys for help. By the time Monte’s crew got there, it was over. I heard cops were crawling all over the place.”

  The second man wiped bacon grease from the corner of his mouth before using his toast to soak up the gristle from the steak. “You serious? How many guys got hit?”

  “I dunno.” The snitch thought a minute. “I heard they were having some sort of meetin’, so coulda been a bunch of guys.”

  The man grunted then shoved the last of his greased toast into his face before throwing down a twenty and mumbling. “Thanks” through his bread-stuffed piehole.

  His twin in corpulence gave up on his fork and used his hand to shovel the last of his eggs down his gullet. He then followed his portly associate out the front door, where they called Bryce to deliver the news.

  He told them to check in with the moneyman to see if they’re still on. In the meantime, he’d get in touch with one of his people. Two people in the family knew about him: Rosso and Monte. That circle expanded to three a couple weeks ago when Rosso told Franco. Calls to all three went straight to voicemail, which gave him pause.

  Now with the text from his man saying Abby was following them, Bryce had the crazy thought that maybe Abby had something to do with the Rosso rumor? He dismissed the idea as absurd. What purpose would it serve?

  Bryce was thrilled that she had showed up on the radar so quickly, though. He sent a message back to his man.

  LET HER FOLLOW YOU. DON’T LET ON THAT YOU KNOW. LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU’RE CLOSE.

  ***

  “I can’t believe you actually called at a normal hour,” JJ said, smiling through the receiver.

  “Ha ha,” Abby said dryly.

  “Seriously. I don’t remember the last time we spoke when the sun was up.”

  “Are you done?”


  “I am, and I’m actually really glad you called. I’ve got some info for you.”

  “And I’ve got some for you, too,” she said. “You first.”

  “One of my sources dropped a dime this morning. He heard that Bryce is alive and that Rosso has got him stashed in New York living under the name Hunter Bryson. I did some digging and found one guy who appeared out of nowhere a few months after Bryce faked his death. He’s running an Italian restaurant a little more than an hour south of Buffalo named...”

  “Buena Sera,” Abby said.

  “Yeah. How did you know?”

  “I’ve been doing some digging of my own,” Abby said coyly.

  “Yeah, I saw the news this morning. It wasn’t much, but they said there were reports of a raid on Rosso’s estate. Total bloodbath was what they said. Looks like you and that old friend of yours did some serious damage. You’re lucky you didn’t get yourself killed just walking into a place like that.”

  She scoffed. “I didn’t just walk in. You taught me better than that. I had a plan. And it was just me. I met up with my friend after.” She looked at Donny, whose eyes were glued to the road.

  “Well, the odds are in your favor again. I’m going to head to the airport. I can catch a flight from Boston to Buffalo and be there in three or four hours.”

  Abby looked at the speedometer. Donny kept his speed at a steady 65 mph. The last thing they wanted to do was get pulled over for a speeding violation with a carload of weapons and not a genuine ID between them. She did some quick math in her head. “That puts you a few hours late to the party. We’re on our way there now. Should be there within the hour.”

  He sighed on the other end of the line. “I suppose I can’t talk you into waiting until I get there?”

  “Not a chance. But do you have anything helpful you can give me now?”

  “You got something to write with? I’ll give you the home address I dug up.”

  As Abby wrote the address, she almost chuckled. “What are the chances one of your sources finally comes through with some info today?”

  “You know it’s not a coincidence.”

  “Of course I know that. He snatched Ava and left some breadcrumbs to lead me to him. He’s setting me up.”

  “That’s why I’d like you to wait for me. Let me get out there. You’re skilled, but having an extra pair of eyes and some firepower can only help you get Ava back and keep you alive.”

  “I can’t sit on my hands knowing that my little girl is with that maniac.”

  “I understand. Just know he’s waiting for you. He’ll be ready.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. He can’t be ready. He thinks he knows what’s coming. He doesn’t.”

  “Be safe.” JJ clicked off the line, knowing what Abby said was true. Still, he worried about her. Anyone can get lucky, and it would be just plain stupid to walk into a trap she knows Bryce has set. Stubborn as she was, there would be no talking her out of doing exactly that if she thought it would get Ava back.

  16

  AGENT EDDIE VINES WAS finishing a late lunch when his phone lit up on the table in front of him. He recognized the number as Randy, his primary source inside the Rosso compound. He had been a huge acquisition for Vines. Randy was on Rosso’s security detail and spent his days watching the video feeds at the estate. He knew the details of every move Rosso was making.

  Eddie punched the phone with a thick finger. “Randy, to what do I owe the pleasure of hearing from my favorite scumbag?”

  “Hmmph, Roos...”

  Eddie pulled the phone away from his ear to see that he had a clear and secure connection. “What the hell? I can’t understand you. Say again?”

  Slowly a slurred voice came from the other end of the line, “Rooossso... iss... deead.”

  Eddie’s eyes lit up as he bolted upright in his seat. “Randy, say that again, I can hardly understand you. It sounds like you’ve got marbles in your mouth.”

  After a pained few seconds, Randy quietly replied, “Rosso is dead, and my jaw fucking hurts.”

  Eddie’s mind began racing. Rosso is dead. This was a phone call he had waited on for years, and for the past few weeks sat on pins and needles expecting it any moment. His plan, years in the making, was about to swing into action. He stood on the precipice of greatness. He had several informants and snitches lined up. When factions loyal to Monte and Franco started fighting, he would take the family down like dominoes as one turned on the next.

  “This is great. This is better than great. What’s the word on Monte and Franco? How fast is this going to get ugly? I’ve got agents, warrants, and subpoenas ready to go.”

  Silence.

  “Randy, talk to me.”

  “They’re both dead.”

  “What are you talking about? Who is both dead?” Eddie’s mind was racing ahead, trying to make the connection. Shit, if Rosso and Franco are both dead, Monte is going to wrap the family up tight, and I’ll never get any cooperation. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “Monte and Franco. They’re dead.”

  “What? I thought you said Rosso was dead.”

  “I did. So are Monte and Franco.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re speakin’ nonsense here. And what the fuck is wrong with your voice?”

  He sighed and spoke slowly, in pain. “Last night, Rosso had a meeting with all the captains.”

  “You’re supposed to let me know when this shit goes down.”

  “It was last-minute, and I’m lettin’ you know now, OK? You gonna let me talk?”

  Vines was silent, trying to quiet his mind from playing through a million different scenarios. He needed to concentrate on what Randy was saying.

  “OK,” Randy said, “so Rosso’s giving them his final instructions. Work everything out; keep the good things goin’, right? So everyone’s having coffee or whatever, and next thing you know, we get fuckin’ attacked.”

  “By who? Another family?”

  “One girl. One fuckin’ girl. You’d think there was twenty of her, though. It was crazy. Fuckin’ explosions, guns blazin’. Kicked the shit outta me. Cracked my jaw with her boot or something, I dunno. Knocked me out, I guess. I wake up and the place is swarming with cops slapping cuffs on everyone. Kept me in the tank overnight, but let me go this mornin’. Told me not to go far. They’d need me for questioning.”

  “What about the girl? Did they get her, too?”

  “No. I been diggin’ a little. Monte’s guys got here about ten minutes before the cops. A few of them grabbed her and were taking her down to off her, ya know, but they found the car wrecked on the side of the road. Two of the guys were still in the wreck, but one of the guys and the chick were gone.”

  Agent Vines was in a state of shock. He was hearing everything Randy was saying, but it just wasn’t sinking in. “This doesn’t change anything, Randy. The dominoes will fall. You stay put, and I’ll get you out when the time is right.”

  “What are you talkin’ about? What dominoes? They’re all dead. The cops already got the two surviving captains, shot in the ass or something, I dunno. Who are you putting away? A bunch of low-level guys like me for some petty shit? Screw that.”

  Vines let that sink in a moment. Randy was right. With Rosso, Franco, and Monte dead, who was he putting away? He could claim jurisdiction and take the remaining captains, but for what? They were small potatoes compared to the ones who were dead. Millions in laundered money, racketeering charges, his dream of shutting down the family—that all came from the top down and someone cut off the head.

  “Who, Randy? You said it was one girl? Who was she?”

  “You remember Bryce Haydenson?”

  “Yeah, piece of shit,” Eddie cursed, remembering the bank job. His superiors silenced his conviction that Bryce was still alive and out there.

  “Couple of the guys said it was his wife or somethin’, I dunno, I didn’t get it. I thought she got killed.”

  “Yeah, she died last year,
killed by a mob guy. They said it was a hit.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I remember that. I never did hear nothin’ about that hit.”

  “No one did, Randy. You think you’re my only guy on the inside? I’ve got half a dozen of you, and not one of you worthless pricks ever heard shit about anyone putting a hit out on that little bitch.”

  “Hey, no need for name callin’, Eddie.”

  Eddie seethed. “Fuck you.”

  “Fuck you!” Randy shot back. “I’ve been feeding you info for over a year now. You better make good and get me the fuck out of here.”

  Eddie tried his best not to let his rage boil over. “You keep your ears open and your mouth shut. Call me with anything you get, you understand?”

  “Fine.” Randy ended the call.

  Vines’ blood was boiling. It never made sense that he couldn’t get any info on the supposed hit on her. That would have been huge if he had broken that case. Hell, he would have retired. He had six good informants and not one of them ever got a whiff of anything. If the order came direct from Rosso, it would have been over their heads, but that was so unlikely. Why would he give a shit about her?

  But Bryce was another story. What if he were alive? What if he was trying to keep her quiet about something, and that’s why she disappeared in the first place? What if he tried to have her killed, or Rosso did, and this is how she got her revenge?

  None of it made sense. Eddie’s mind was swirling in a thousand different directions, and he had to make it stop. Taking down the Rossos was going to be his crowning achievement; his ticket to a better life. Some pint-sized bitch just came in and flushed that all down the drain.

  He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. What do I know for sure? I know some chick laid waste to the Rosso place and killed everyone at the top. I know that the guys left behind are saying it was this Abby girl. What I don’t know is her motivation, but it has to be tied to Bryce.

  Agent Eddie Vines opened his eyes and looked ahead, focused. He had to follow his hunch that Bryce was alive and find him.