Fighting to Survive

by Rick Pine

  “Thanks,” Casey said, unsure if that was the correct response.

  Nicolas turned his attention to the Pit again, where the next bout was about to begin. Casey was certain he’d seen the man before, but not recently. Casey had experienced that feeling a few times during his trip to the city so far. Thankfully his identity was kept a secret in his former employment. Once your hitman’s identity was uncovered, you generally needed to find a new hitman.

  Casey certainly got around before, so it’s possible they had met briefly. But there was something about Nicolas that felt both familiar and disturbing at the same time. He couldn’t place it. There weren’t many Italian-Americans with black curly hair that had baby blue-eyes. He was handsome, too, not that Casey spent much time on such thoughts.

  He started to feel a little anxious all of a sudden, the uncertainty beginning to plague him. His gut instinct wasn’t usually wrong. He’d have to tread carefully.

  “Ah, you’ve met Nicky,” Ciro exclaimed as he strolled into the room with his hands in his pockets. Ciro sat in his usual seat at the table and poured yet another glass of red wine.

  “Sort of,” replied Casey.

  Nicolas smiled awkwardly in Casey’s direction.

  “Well, good. Nicky here is one of my most trusted men. Tomorrow he’s heading up a mission, of sorts, the one I want you to participate in as part of the deal for Bobby—”

  “Billy,” Casey interrupted.

  “Yes, Billy. So, your friend Lou, who now gets to spend some time in St Mary’s General Hospital, thanks to you, was going to be helping on the mission. It’s the sort of thing that might need your abilities ... the kind of abilities that you showed in the Pit just now. Tell me, Casey, have you ever used a gun?”

  Casey’s heart sank. Does he know who I am already? How could he? They haven’t even scanned for my absent ID chip.

  “Well,” he answered, “you’d have to have a permit for that, with the strict gun laws these days, and I don’t have one of those.” He was lying, of course. But he was sure Ciro knew the answer before he’d even asked the question. Had he told the truth he could have been arrested on the spot. Holding a gun, let alone firing one, without a sacred permit was a felony these days. It was part of the Cosa Nostra’s attempts to clamp down on the IA’s ability to resist.

  “Not to worry, we’ll come to some arrangement. I’ll get one of the boys to show you a few basics of our new rifle, as a precautionary measure of course. I doubt you’ll need to use guns at all.”

  Casey knew he was lying, again. This would be a dangerous mission, then. Not something new to him. But he was getting restless jumping through hoops for Ciro. He’d rather just get it over with and return home with Billy. “I would like to see Billy, before the mission, to make sure he’s okay.”

  “He’s well looked after with us, no need to worry about him. I promise he won’t fight.”

  “With respect, that’s not what I meant. I’m sure you are looking after him well, but he’s just a boy, and must be scared stiff. I want to let him know I’m here.”

  Ciro pondered for a second. Casey had no doubt wondering if seeing Billy would make him change his mind to carry out his plan. Casey knew in that moment that this meant the success of this plan was more important to him than adding Billy to his collection of Warriors, and the $15,000 George owed him.

  “Sure, I see no harm in that. You can have a short visit now. It’s already late, so I’m sure the boy will want to sleep. I’ll have him brought to you shortly. Tonight you can stay as my guest, just up the road. It’s a nice place, and safe. Nicky will brief you on the way tomorrow morning.”

  Safe? You mean well guarded, so I don’t change my mind and try to escape, Casey thought. “Sounds like a plan,” he said.

  Ciro nodded, gulping down the remaining wine from his glass. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have some other business to attend to. Please excuse me,” he said, leaving via the back room from where he’d come.

  Nicolas spoke. “I’ll get the boy. Stay here.” He whispered to the guards on his way out.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Casey waited impatiently. He glanced over at the clock on the far wall. It’d been twenty minutes since Nicky had left. What could be taking them so long? Casey’s knuckles were starting to throb from the fight with Lou. He examined them while rubbing. Nothing broken.

  The two armed guards stepped aside as Nicky entered with Billy and an additional couple of goons. No doubt here to see him, too.

  “Uncle Casey,” cried Billy the moment he saw him.

  “Hey, Billy,” he replied.

  Billy walked closer, looking over his shoulder towards Nicky as if he was waiting to be told when to stop. Casey decided to remain seated when Billy came in, but invited him to sit next to him. Billy did so, not saying a word.

  Casey noticed Billy’s hands were handcuffed in front of him. Standard practice, really. Casey knew they weren’t afraid of Billy causing trouble. Instead, the cuffs were a reminder of who was in charge. The Mafia loved to remind people of their place.

  Billy seemed to be nervous about the cuffs, fiddling with them as he sat. Casey could sense the fear in his eyes, too, and wanted to let him know it was all going to be okay but was reticent about saying such words. He knew it was unlikely to be okay. Even if Casey was successful in whatever suicide mission they were sending him on, and Billy returned home with him, Casey knew George still owed a big debt to the Mafia. Things would never be the same at home, even if the debt was paid.

  Nicky and his two new friends stood at the end of the table, listening and waiting. Casey didn’t have much time, he knew that. He had to tread carefully though, find out some information from Billy, in case he had to come back and break him out.

  “How are they treating you, Billy?”

  Billy glanced over at Nicky before he turned his attention to Casey again. “Good, I guess.” Billy’s voice wobbled as he held back the tears. He was trying to be strong, and that was good. Casey decided not to waste any more time. Billy’s glance to Nicky confirmed to him that they had briefed him.

  “Are you staying here, downstairs?”

  Billy nodded.

  “Do you have your own room?” Casey tried to sound interested as he spoke a little more softly to him, though he wasn’t sure it was coming off that way.

  Billy nodded again.

  Casey leaned in closer, speaking as quietly as he dared without upsetting his hosts. “Are they keeping you in a prison cell, Billy?”

  Billy’s eyes started to well up as he nodded. Casey wanted nothing more than to ask Billy how many guards were downstairs, and if there were any other exits. But he knew the trio staring at them wouldn’t allow it. Casey needed to not piss them off. If they suspected Casey was going to do something stupid, like try and break the boy out, then they’d call off the deal in an instant. Experience had taught him that.

  “Don’t worry, Billy, we’ll be home soon.” Now it was Casey’s turn to glance at Nicky. “They said you can come home with me, but they just need my help with something first. Then we can go home.”

  Billy stopped sniffling momentarily. “Really?”

  Casey nodded. “Absolutely. I’ll be helping them in the morning. It’s a bit of a drive so I’ll be gone a day or two most likely, but I’ll be back.” Casey made a point of raising his voice for his next sentence so his words were heard by all. “But Mr. DeLuca promised you wouldn’t have to fight while I was away.”

  Billy lifted his head and almost smiled.

  “Just be a good boy while I’m gone, okay. Make sure to always use your manners and be respectful. And try and make friends while you wait for me.” Casey didn’t say this just to be nice, though that was the tone he’d gone for. He knew that prisoners talked to each other while the guards were away. The information might prove useful later on.

  “I already have one,” Billy smiled. “She’s older than me, but she’s nice to me, unlike the other boys.” Billy lowered his head at
the word boys as he rubbed his ribs.

  Maybe I have some ass kicking to do, Casey thought. “What’s her name?” he inquired.

  “Alex, and she’s the best Warrior they have! She doesn’t like anyone, and she swears a lot. But she isn’t mean to me like she is to the older boys.”

  Casey was intrigued. So the loud-mouthed girl I saw kill someone earlier has a soft side. Maybe there was hope for her yet. “Well, you make sure to be nice back. I’m sure she could use a friend, too.”

  Nicolas walked forward and stood behind Billy. “Time to go.”

  Billy looked at Casey, waiting for some words of wisdom. But he had nothing. Nothing he could say would help him adjust to a prison cell. “See you in a day or two, kid.”

  Billy leapt forwards jumping into Casey’s arms. Casey hugged him tightly. He hated to look so vulnerable in front of the idiots minding them, but by this point there was no denying that he cared for the boy and wanted to return him home safely.

  “Alright, that’s enough. Let’s go,” demanded Nicolas, tugging gently on the back of Billy’s shirt.

  “Off you go. I’ll be back,” said Casey, in his most fatherly voice. But he wasn’t fooling anyone, especially himself.

  Billy eased his grip and slowly relinquished his hold. Nicolas took Billy by the hand and led him away. As they were about to head out of sight he shouted back to Casey. “The boys will take you to your hotel. I’ll pick you up at 9am. Be ready!”

  “I always am,” replied Casey as they walked out of sight. He stood, and walked toward the two new faces. Casey could tell by their off-the-shelf suits and wet-behind-the-ear looks on their faces that they were just Associates, not yet initiated as members of the Mafia. Once upon a time, he preferred talking to Associates over the senior members. They were the only normal people left. It seemed the higher you climbed the ladder the bigger the stick up your ass. Casey’s father was no exception. He loved his father, but he hated him when he was working. But today wasn’t the time to revisit old habits.

  “Let’s go,” Casey demanded.

  They looked at each other, wondering if they should take orders from the one they were protecting. Casey walked straight toward the back room, hoping the guards would follow him. He was desperate to scout out the inside. There had to be another set of stairs or something in there or a weapons rack at least.

  “Stop. Not that way,” said one of the Associates.

  “Shit,” he said under his breath.

  “This way,” barked the other wannabe, pointing to the main entrance.

  Casey turned and walked between them as they took him to his hotel for the night.

  Chapter 15

  Northern District

  The Regent Hotel, Cincinnati.

  Casey looked at the clock on the wall of the hotel lobby. 8:55am. He’d already been waiting for his ride for ten minutes. Casey hated to be late. On time was late to him. Despite the late night, and only a few hours of sleep, Casey felt refreshed. The facilities at the hotel were quite good, especially compared to what passed as normal these days. His favorite part by far was the hot shower. It had been a while since he’d had one of those. At the Orchard, he normally had to make do with cold water from the well to bathe in. The shower alone almost made the trip worth it. He had no complaints about the breakfast either. It was no Maria’s cooking, but was pretty good all the same.

  Casey looked to his right at the door, simultaneously watching the door for Nicolas’ arrival while ignoring the two well-built men to his left, the same two who had guarded him since they left the club. Casey was secretly hoping the two young Associates would be his minders, as they would have been easy to shake off. But instead they just walked him to the door, where they handed him over to these two brutes.

  8:58am. Nicolas walked through the door wearing a uniform instead of a nice tailored suit. As he approached, Casey could make out the logo; Northern Territory Gasoline Co. It was a disguise, of sorts.

  Nicolas stopped six feet short of Casey and motioned for him to follow with a swift nod.

  “Good morning to you, too,” said Casey.

  Nicolas turned and walked back outside.

  Casey stood, and turned to his minders, who hadn’t said a word to him all night. “Nice chatting with you, boys,” he said, before following Nicolas out to the car.

  As Casey stepped outside, the cool breeze hit him. It felt nice. Casey always did enjoy the autumn months. Nicolas was already inside the car waiting. Casey approached the front passenger door and opened it.

  “In the back,” Nicolas insisted. “That’s my seat once we’ve picked up Roy.”

  Casey obliged.

  “Put this on.” Nicolas threw a matching uniform from the front seat at Casey, hitting him square in the face. “We’ll be picking up the others on the way. So you’ve got about five minutes to change before the car gets tight for space.”

  Casey sensed Nicolas was nervous. Maybe he’s just in a bad mood? But there was something off. He certainly wasn’t as cool as he was the night before. He was definitely right about the car, too. It wasn’t the usual spacious black sedan the Mafia used. It made sense, given their uniforms, that the car would match their new personas. Surely they could have got something bigger than an old compact, though? It even came with authentic rust. Classy.

  “How did you know my size?” Casey joked.

  “I didn’t. I just picked the fat bastard size, and figured it’d do.”

  Casey felt as if he’d been dressed in his older brothers hand-me-downs, if he’d had a brother, that was. The uniform was at least two sizes too big. Not much of a disguise. He would stick out for sure. He rolled the pant legs up a couple of folds to stop him tripping over them should he need to run at some point. One thing Casey had learned early on in his former work was to always be ready for any eventuality. Nothing ever went 100% to plan. You had to be prepared to run, climb, shoot, or jump out of a window—and sometimes all four at once. You had to do whatever it took when things went wrong. And Casey couldn’t shake the feeling deep in his gut that things were about to go very wrong.

  The car turned down an alley way, and they were at the side of the club. Little Franky and Roy were standing in front of the door in matching uniforms. Nicolas got out and greeted them before getting back in the passenger's side. Roy got into the driver's seat and introduced himself to Casey. “I’m Roy,” he said, offering his hand to shake.

  Casey shook it. “Casey.”

  Little Franky got into the car last and sat in the back with Casey.

  “I thought you said it was going to get tight for space in here?” Casey said.

  “Fuck off!” Little Franky shouted.

  Casey laughed.

  “Play nice. It’s a long drive. We have to do this as a team. You guys start arguing and they win,” said Nicolas, obviously referring to the IA.

  Casey turned and smiled at Little Franky, offering his hand as a way of an apology. They shook hands briefly.

  “Cock!” Little Franky muttered as they broke from the handshake.

  Enough of the games, Casey thought, time to find out what kind of a mess these guys are in and how many of my former skills I’ll need to recall? Casey poked his head between the front seats of the car.

  “Nicky—” started Casey

  “Nicolas to you. Only the boss calls me Nicky. Fucking hate it. But I can’t tell him to fuck off like I can you.”

  “Noted… So what’s the plan then? Can’t keep me in the dark forever.”

  Nicolas sighed and began running them all through the plan. Casey soon regretted ever asking.

  Chapter 16

  Northern Territory

  Whiting (formerly in Indiana).

  The Northern Territory Gasoline Co. refinery was visible from miles away. The citadel of pipes and towers loomed over the sparse surroundings. As they approached the edge of the 1400-acre complex they could see the concrete wall perimeter standing twelve feet tall. Just before they reached the
gate they saw a huge bellow of flames shoot from one of the large towers.

  “That doesn’t look good,” Casey suggested.

  “It’s nothing,” said Little Franky. “They’re just releasing some of the pressure. If they didn’t the place would blow. It happens every now and then.” He aimed a glare at Casey. “Try not to get too scared, country boy. Wouldn’t want you pissing yourself.”

  “Don’t worry, Princess, I’ll be okay,” replied Casey.

  The car came to a stop as they approached the security gate. Roy rolled down the driver’s window and stuck his arm in the ID scanner bolted to the side of the guard tower. The guard took note of the readout on his screen and jolted himself upright from his chair.

  “Good evening, sirs,” said the guard, suddenly changing his demeanor. He took a clipboard from the desk and handed it to Roy.

  “Thanks,” said Roy. “Which terminal?”

  “All three tankers are being filled in Terminal 1 as we speak.”

  Roy nodded and handed the clipboard to Nicolas in the passenger seat. “And the drivers?”

  “None reported yet. They didn’t tell me when to expect anyone. Need to know… I guess.” The barrier lifted. “Follow the road to the left,” said the guard as Roy drove through the now open barrier.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  After a short drive around the perimeter of the complex, they spotted Terminal 1. Casey had enjoyed the view as they drive by. Having never been to a refinery before he was taking in the sights, not just to fulfill his intrigue, but to also get a sense of his bearings and the scale of the complex. Each part looked just like the last, row after row of straight pipes that suddenly bent at perfect ninety-degree angles. He would do his best not to get too lost, should things go wrong.

  On the six-hour drive over Nicolas had explained they expected something to happen, or have happened, at the refinery before leaving. He, or more likely, Ciro, was convinced the leak was one of Joseph Gotti’s guys. There was no proof, of course. Not that it mattered to the Cosa Nostra. But it made sense to everyone that it would be the place the IA struck if that was the case. Only Ciro knew the routes. And Joseph knew the departure time. So if the informant was one of theirs, then they would have no choice but to strike near or in the refinery itself before the tankers split up and became untraceable.