Overkill

by Dylan Rust

  “We’ll just have to hope Jack figures it out,” Luka said.

  —

  One of the design quarks of the Smith and Wesson Model 28 is that its open at both ends of the cylinder. In the light of day or in a well lit room, you can see if each chamber is loaded or not from the front or from behind the gun. In other words. it’s not the best gun to play a game of Russian roulette with.

  Especially if you’re playing with someone who knows guns.

  The lack of light made it difficult for Jack to confirm which chamber the bullet was located in. He couldn’t pick up the gun and carefully inspect it. That would have been suspicious and the bouncers would have killed him.

  All he was sure about, was that it wasn’t in the first two chambers.

  He’d just have to wait for his next turn to confirm and he’d only have a second or two to check. He’d have to angle the gun in a way that would allow him to quickly spot the bullet and not arouse the suspicion of the bouncers.

  The girl was nervous. Despite the cold temperature, she was sweating. Jack wanted to tell her to relax. He wanted to tell her that he’d take care of it. He couldn’t. Not yet.

  She picked up the gun. Her hand was shaking.

  “Don’t be a pussy,” Evgeni said.

  Nikolai burst out laughing. “Pussy!? She’s a woman!”

  She couldn’t do it. She had to tempt fate. She pointed the gun at Jack. Her hand shook.

  Jack didn’t flinch. “Go ahead,” he said. “Pull the trigger.”

  The Russian gangsters stopped laughing.

  Nicole pulled the trigger.

  Click.

  Jack had not even broke a sweat.

  “What the fuck is this?” Nikolai said. “You fucking bitch!”

  He feigned hitting her. She screamed. Jack waited. He’d take the two bouncers out when he got the chance.

  “It’s your turn,” Evgeni said to Jack. He pushed the revolver over to Jack. He was angry. The game was not playing out as he had intended.

  Jack picked it up.

  He did it carefully, but quickly.

  He saw the glimmer.

  He saw the bullet.

  He knew where it was.

  He held the gun to his head. He looked at Evgeni and Nikolai. Nicole’s head was hung low.

  “The bullet is in the fifth chamber,” he said. “Isn’t it?”

  Evgeni’s face twitched. Despite the slabs of fat that covered his face, he couldn’t hide the fact that Jack hit a nerve.

  “Pull the trigger, pussy,” Evgeni said. “Don’t be a bitch. We’re not cheating.”

  “Go on,” Nikolai said. “Pull the trigger. We’re honest men.”

  Jack smiled and pulled the trigger.

  Nothing. He placed the gun on the table and drank a shot of vodka and wiped his mouth.

  Both Russian gangsters drew their guns and aimed them at Jack.

  The bouncers were getting nervous.

  Nicole picked up the gun. She held it to her temple. Something about the man across from her told her that he wasn’t telling a lie. He knew things. The way the bouncers reacted confirmed it. She knew she was safe. He wasn’t telling the bouncers where the bullet was, he was telling her.

  She pulled the trigger.

  Click.

  She took a shot of vodka and smiled at Jack.

  “Pick up the gun,” Nikolai said. “It’s your turn.”

  Jack obliged. He held the gun to his temple.

  “I’m going to give you both the chance to live,” Jack said.

  “What?” Evgeni said.

  Nikolai couldn’t speak. He’d buckled over, laughing.

  “Before I make the next move,” Jack said. “I want to offer you both the chance to live. Let me in the club now and nothing bad will happen to you.”

  “It’s your move?” Nikolai said. “Pull the trigger, pussy.”

  “So be it,” Jack said. “I gave you the chance.”

  Jack held the revolver to his temple. He knew the bullet was in the chamber. But instead of playing the game, he changed the playing field. He flung his head foreward as he pulled the trigger. The bullet flew by his head. The street light above the table shattered into a million pieces. The alley went dark. No one could see a thing.

  Nikolai fired. Evgeni fired.

  They both missed.

  Nicole grabbed the knife. She couldn’t see a thing but she remembered where Nikolai and Evgeni were standing. She slashed in their direction. The two Russian’s screamed. She’d hit something important.

  More shots.

  Jack jumped behind a dumpster and waited.

  “I’m cut, I’m cut,” Nikolai screamed.

  Evgeni fired two shots.

  Jack heard a body drop.

  Fuck. Why would she do that? She should have waited. She shouldn’t have grabbed the knife.

  Evgeni walked toward the table. His eyes were adjusting to the dark.

  Jack moved through the darkness. He could hear Evgeni’s lumbering steps. He snuck up behind the gangster, put him in a choke hold and knocked him out. He dropped the body and grabbed the knife from the girl.

  There were voices. Security guards from the club. They were just outside the back entrance to the club. He’d have to do it.

  Jack took the knife and stuck it into the heart of each bouncer, ensuring that they were both dead. He then sat back on his char. He put his hands up.

  “Freeze,” one of the security guards said. He had a flash light.

  Jack froze.

  The guards saw the mess.

  A dead woman, shot twice, and two dead bouncers, both stabbed. The only survivor, Jack.

  “What the hell happened here?” one of the security guards asked.

  “She shot the lights out, grabbed the knife and stabbed both guards. They managed to get a few in her before she croaked.”

  “Fucking hell,” the guard said. “I told them not to play these games anymore. Nikolai and Evgeni were stupid men. This is too much clean up.”

  “I won’t say a thing if I get into the club,” Jack said.

  “You won’t say a thing either way,” the man said.

  “Does that mean?”

  “Yes,” the man said. “You can go in. I knew the conditions of their game. You’ve earned it.”

  15

  Back on Brighton, the federal agents were silent. They couldn’t believe what had just happened. Jack had just killed the two bouncers.

  Tom was beside himself. This was not what he’d signed up for.

  Claire’s throat was tense. She felt anxious. What else would go wrong tonight?

  Luka was smiling. Jack Spade was tough. He was trying to figure out how Jack knew where the bullet was in the gun. He was typing into his phone the gun and model number.

  “They would have killed him,” Claire said. “He had no choice.”

  “You don’t know that,” Tom said.

  “They said the bullet was in the fifth chamber. You heard the click. It sounded like Jack had a gun aimed at him. He was being forced to kill himself. Everything that happened after that… That was incredible.”

  “When Edward hears about this,” Tom said.

  “He’ll say we did what we had to do,” Claire said. “Jack got into the club. That’s what we asked of him. Despite everything, he got himself in there.”

  “Got in?” Tom said. “He killed two men.”

  Claire’s phone rang.

  “Who is it?” Tom asked. “Who the fuck knows that number?” Each agent was carrying a phone set up just for the investigation.

  “It’s Jack!” she said.

  She answered.

  “I’m inside,” Jack said.

  “Where are you?”

  “Taking a piss.”

  Claire heard Jack’s piss hit the urinal. She frowned.

  “The bouncers?” she said.

  “Necessary.”

  “Did anyone question you about anything once you were inside? Did club security
care? Did they pat you down?”

  “It’s a club full of dangerous men,” Jack said. “No. These things happen all the time. They patted me down.”

  “Did they take your gun?”

  “No. They were just looking for a wire, for some surveillance.”

  Tom grabbed the phone from Claire’s hands.

  “Don’t kill anyone else! You hear me. You’re undercover on behalf of the FBI. We can’t have you going off the rails.”

  “Put Claire back on the phone,” Jack said. “She has balls big enough to handle this investigation.”

  “Fuck you!” Tom said.

  Claire grabbed her phone back.

  “What’s your next move?” she said.

  Jack shook himself and zipped up. He walked to the mirror and made sure he looked the part.

  “I’m going to play poker. I’m going to win.”

  “Remember, you need to get close to Igor. Make a good impression.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Jack said. “Someone’s coming.”

  He hung up.

  Claire put her phone down.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” she said to Tom.

  “When this whole investigation goes to shit, and, mark my words, it will go to shit, I want it on record that I wanted to pull out,” Tom said.

  “It’s noted,” Claire said.

  “Good.”

  “What now?” Luka said. “We just wait here?”

  “Yes,” Claire said. “For the time being we wait. This whole investigation is resting on Jack’s shoulders. He needs to win a couple games of poker. We will head back to the warehouse after that.”

  16

  The walls inside the Dacha House’s main hall were draped in velvet. They were lit by small wall sconces that made the velvet glow. Above, were six chandeliers that were lit via multicolored LEDs. They glowed purple, red, green, and red. Despite this, the club felt dark. It was hard to make out anyones face from a distance. It was on purpose. That was why the the seedy and corrupt felt welcome and safe at the club.

  The club was shiny, slimy, and smelled of cigars.

  The mainstage was occupied by a DJ that was playing Eastern European electronic music. The bass and drums reverberated throughout the hall.

  There were six tables on either side of the dance floor.

  On a typical night, the six lower level tables played an assortment of typical casino cards games: poker, blackjack, baccarat, craps. But tonight was different, every table played poker.

  Jack walked out into the main hall. It was busy. The club was packed. There must have been more than two hundred people inside. He scoped out the tables as he walked past them. He took everything in. There were over seventeen security guards on the ground floor, six dealers, four bartenders and more scantily clad women than he could count.

  On the second floor, on the balcony, he counted more security guards.

  The women at the tables and walking the floors were all beautiful. They wore thongs, nipple tassles and not much else. Their tassels jingled and jangled like the chandeliers on the ceiling. They were young. One grabbed Jack’s ass as he walked by and blew him a kiss. He turned away. He didn’t notice the way she stuck out her tongue and licked her lips when she saw his ass.

  He recognized a few faces at the poker tables. One of them stood out, only because he’d seen it on the front page of the paper yesterday. Lyle Cunningworth.

  The Wall Street trader was sat at one of a poker table and was surrounded by his entourage and a bunch of women with dollar bills sticking out of their thongs. A girl was sat on his lap, rubbing herself against him as he played. He didn’t seem distracted. He was used to this.

  Jack walked past the tables and up to a small caged booth on the other side of the room.

  He had to shout on account of the loud music.

  “I’m here to play.”

  “Your name?” the man inside said shouted back.

  “Jack Spade.”

  The man punched his name into the system.

  He took Jack’s money and handed him some chips. “Your table is over there, sir.”

  Jack’s goal now was simple: play poker and win.

  17

  Jack walked to a table and sat down.

  Lyle Cunningworth was playing at the table beside him. The wallstreet trader let out a big laugh followed by a woman’s shriek. Things sounded like they were going Lyle’s way. The woman kissed his neck. Lyle pulled the chips toward him. The other players at his table threw their cards down.

  Lyle was, no doubt in Jack’s mind, playing the game with money he’d earned by selling out the twenty thousand workers in Indiana. If Jack wasn’t there for his sister, he would have walked over to Lyle’s table and beat the shit out of him, tied him up, and left him in a dumpster for the NYPD to find.

  Jack turned his attention back to his table.

  He needed to win. He would deal with Lyle another day. He knew he would.

  The players at Jack’s table were just finishing up a round.

  Jack seized the opportunity to watch and examine their habits. He focused on their methods and tells.

  The dealer at the table had a thin moustache and a gaunt face. He moved the cards quick between each hand. Each card slid in and out of his fingers as if appearing from thin air. He was good.

  Jack placed his chips on the table, signalling to the others that a new player had joined their game.

  There were four of them. Each one nodded at Jack.

  One was overweight and had a mustard stain on his white shirt. A women was on his lap. Her arm was wrapped around him and down his back. He had a big smile on his face. He didn’t see the girl’s hand in his wallet. She was pulling out every bill she could find and stuffing them down her bra. The other three players were each dressed in tight black suits and the only discernable differences were the glasses one wore, the tattoo the other had, and the high pitched squeal of a laugh from the third. They were low on the totem pole gangsters. The kind who were trying to make it big, but never would.

  The game was Texas Hold ‘Em.

  The hole cards had been dealt.

  They were about to act on the pre-flop betting round.

  Each players’s cards were face down. The fat man with the woman grinding on his fat leg had the button, which meant he’d be acting last in the round, a big advantage in Texas Hold ‘Em.

  The man to his left, Glasses, had to post first. The small blind, which was a forced bet, a way to get some money on the table, was two hundred. He posted, which meant he paid it. He had to.

  Tattoo was next. He had to pay the big blind. Like the small blind, it was a forced bet. He posted the big blind, which was double what the small blind was. He threw in four hundred.

  Squeal looked at his cards. He’d be acting first. He folded right away. He must have had a shit hand. Either that or he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing.

  Fat man looked at Glasses then at his cards then back at Glasses. He folded. He was more interested in stuffing chips down his girl’s panties anyway. She was working hard for her money tonight. She licked his ear. His eyes rolled to the back of his head.

  Glasses called the big blind. He threw in two hundred more.

  Tattoo checked.

  The dealer flopped. After he burned a card, he flipped over the ten of clubs, ace of spades and queen of hearts.

  Tattoo’s neck muscles flexed. Glasses shifted his ass in his seat, left cheek first. The Fat Man noticed the lay. He was sweating. He was regretting his move. He should have stayed in.

  Their tells couldn’t have been any more obvious.

  That was why none of them would make it far in the underworld. They wouldn’t last long in an interrogation room. They’d break, bend, and be behind bars before the third question.

  Glasses raised five hundred.

  Tattoo met the raise. He then raised one thousand.

  Jack studied the eye movements between each player. He noted every nuance, e
very slight gesture. It looked like Tattoo was trying to draw out Glasses bluff.

  Glasses met the raise and knocked on the table. He checked.

  The dealer burned a card then flipped the turn.

  The seven of diamonds.

  Glasses knocked on the table. He checked. He was nervous. He was bluffing. He didn’t have a good hand. He shifted in his seat once more, left cheek first.

  Tattoo smiled. He knocked on the table. His neck muscle relaxed. The long vein that stuck out after the first flop disappeared. He’d drawn out Glasses’s bluff.

  The dealer flopped the river, the final card. It was the two of clubs.

  Squeal laughed. Things were about to get exciting.

  It was the showdown now. Only two players were left.

  Glasses tried to regain control of the game, but he couldn’t. Tattoo matched every raise. The more Glasses tried to dig himself out of the hole he was in, the more money he placed on the table.

  Glasses gave up.

  There was no point in continuing. He’d only lose more money. He folded.

  Tattoo won. He pulled the chips in from the center of the table.

  Jack saw everything he needed to see. He knew their methods, strategies and tells.

  It was time to apply what he’d learned.

  18

  The dealer grabbed the cards and reshuffled his decks. Each player at the table took a moment to collect themselves, reorganize their chips, and get ready for the next round.

  “What brings you to the Dacha House,” the Fat Man said to Jack, his face red with a big smile. “I’ve never seen you hear before.” He licked his lips after he said it.

  “The poker,” Jack said.

  “There’s lots of poker clubs in New York city.”

  “I didn’t like them much.”

  The Fat Man leaned backward. He pushed the girl on his lap off. She looked relieved. She needed a break. “You won’t like this one,” he snorted.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because you’re going to lose a lot of money,” he said. He burst out laughing after he said it.

  Jack smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

  The Fat Man laughed. “Good joke,” he said. He downed his martini and snapped his fingers. The girl got back on his lap. She put her hand back down his pants, into his wallet and got back to work.