The Untouchables

by J. J. McAvoy

  He pulled my hair back, smiling only an inch from my face. “What was it that you called my sister, a crack-whore?”

  He stroked the side of my face with his gun as if I were his pet, and even brushed back my hair with his other hand. “How do you feel?”

  Throwing my head forward, I smashed it against his nose.

  “FUCK!” he screamed, holding onto his nose. The best thing about being so fucking high was that nothing hurt and I felt invincible. So even when I should have stopped as the cuff dug into my skin, I pulled hard against them and for the first time in five days I managed to free my wrist. I wish I could have said the same for my ankles.

  He turned as blood dripped down his nose, but before he could point his gun in my direction, I grabbed the fork on the table and stabbed him as hard as I could. I thrust the fork so hard into his arm that the only reason it stopped was because it hit bone. He dropped the gun, reached over and clawed at my hands trying in vain to pull the fork out; a feat I was sure his scrawny ass would never accomplish.

  “You little bitch!” He reached for my hair again, but I pulled the fork from his arm, causing him to scream before I stabbed him in the shoulder. This time, I didn’t linger in one place too long. I stabbed him over and over, and his blood splattered across my face until his knees buckled, forcing him to kneel before me. He held onto his neck, trying to stop the river of blood that was soaking his shirt.

  “You should have walked away!” Pulling the fork out one last time, I drove it into his throat. “You should have never fucking crossed me, bitch. Scream and you’ll bleed out faster.”

  Pushing him out of my face, he fell onto the floor. He looked like a fish out of water, trying to breathe, yet drowning in his own blood. I had no idea how much time I had. Aviela came to me every night to read, smack, or insult me, depending on how she was feeling.

  “Keys,” I hissed, pointing down at my ankles. He wasn’t dead yet, the least he could do was be helpful. But he didn’t move; his eyes slowly began to turn into his skull.

  Well he’s useless.

  I had no other choice but to use the bloody fork. Bending to the chains at my feet, I tried to focus, all too aware of the clock ticking behind me.

  “Focus, Mel. Focus.” It didn’t help. The drugs burned in my veins. What was worse was the voice in the back of my mind. I wanted to give into the false sense of peace they provided. I wanted to be on a different plane with Liam and Ethan again. I was fucked in every sense of the word, but I couldn’t focus on that now.

  “Finally.” Pulling off the chains around my feet, I tried to stand, but my legs buckled under my own weight. Grabbing hold of the end of the table, I wobbled over to Nelson. I took the gun right next to his head and kneeled next to him, pressing it into his eye.

  “Where is she?”

  He didn’t get a chance to reply before the door opened. “Shit, Cod—”

  Before he could even get the words out, I fired, signaling a parade of alarms to sound throughout the house.

  “You…re…ne…ver…get…ting…out…” Nelson sneered as the blood poured from his ears.

  “Tell your sister I said hello.” I thrust the gun into his eye before pulling the trigger.

  Step one: Call Liam.

  Step two: Kill Aviela.

  LIAM

  We fucked up. Mel and I had come to trust the people that surrounded us. We’d gotten used to them, and in a way, we cared for them as though they were our own family. But they weren’t. The truth was, they were broken China that we’d found, hot glued together, and still tried to use. No matter how hard we tried, and no matter how much glue we used, it would never change the fact that they were cracked; broken plates would never be reliable. A broken cup still leaked.

  We had trusted Adriana. I had trusted Adriana. Yet here I was, standing on platform B of the Ogilvie transportation center, waiting for Judas. My hand trembled with rage, wanting nothing more than to rip her apart. For five days she had watched us, watched me and my son suffer in agony; she probably laughed her ugly fucking head off.

  “Boss, she’s coming your way,” Monte spoke in my ear. When I turned towards the stairs there she was, blonde wig, giant glasses and all.

  When she saw me, she tried to turn, but Monte was already waiting behind her. Pulling off her wig, she turned to me, sighing deeply as she made her final free walk towards me.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to find out,” she whispered, keeping her head down.

  “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What does Aviela want?”

  “To save her from Ivan. Lia—”

  Grabbing her arm, I pulled her closer to me. “Do not say my name. I want to snap your fucking neck right now. Was Antonio betraying us too, or were you lying to everyone?”

  “No. Antonio would have never—”

  “And yet you did.” She winced as I squeezed. “Who is Ivan?”

  “He’s demented, a psychopath.”

  “So are we! The only reason you’re still alive is because Melody would want to kill you herself.”

  “I’ve suffered,” she whispered. “I did this to protect her. Aviela may be insane but she knows how to protect her! She’s been doing it for years. She loves—”

  “Do you hear yourself?” How had we been so blind to who she really was? “Make contact now.”

  The moment I let go, she wiped the tears falling from her eyes. It only served to anger me even more. How dare she cry!

  “Adriana, do not test my patience.”

  “After taking Melody, Aviela sent me this.” She threw her phone at me.

  If she had this, why did she bother coming?

  “She calls every Thursday at 12:01am. Answer only on the third ring. Tell Mel I’m so sorry.”

  I didn’t even have time to blink. She threw herself off the platform, and her body disappeared as the train swept it down the tunnel, screeching as it tried to stop.

  “Fuck.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  “Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it.”

  —William Shakespeare

  OLIVIA

  There were certain guidelines that all politicians and their families followed. It only had three basic rules:

  First: at some point there will be a chance to get ahead. Take it and never look back.

  Second: people will talk, make sure you control what they talk about.

  Third: always be willing to cut off the head of your enemies, especially when they’re on their knees.

  “Neal,” I whispered, walking up behind him.

  He didn’t look at me, he didn’t even speak. He just drank, as he stared at the sun as it set over the tree line in his brother’s office.

  “Adriana committed suicide. Liam went to see her, and she just jumped. No one knows who she is though, so she only got a few minutes of air time before they went back to covering Saint Melody—”

  “Olivia, our sister-in-law was kidnapped,” Neal said. “You can hold your vitriol for when she comes back.”

  “Neal, the shit has already hit the fan and Liam is too blind to see it.” When would he start being the man I knew he was? “They are calling in the fucking FBI. In a few hours, some of the baddest Italian bosses are meeting to bring down this family. What were you saying about Roy? He’s not paying full price anymore? Neal, step up. If not for me, then for Liam. He needs you to have his back. We don’t know who to trust, but we’re family, and until Mel gets back, we can’t just wait to be moved around like chess pieces. Get in the chair and lead, or we will be pushed off the cliff.”

  I could see it in his eyes: that willingness to die for his brother. But there was also that hunger to lead, to be the Ceann Na Conairte.

  “How did you know about the meeting?”

  “Nobody pays any attention to Malibu Barbie,” I said, sitting on the desk. “The question is, what are you going to do?”

  He eyed me carefully.

 
“Neal.”

  “I’ll let him deal with that. The very first thing we need to worry about is keeping Roy and the rest of the small fish in line. The election is in a few days. How’s your father doing in the polls?”

  And just like that, he was a whole different person.

  “His win will cast a small shadow on Melody. We’re thinking if she isn’t found by then, we will make an announcement.”

  “Hopefully, she’ll be back by then. This much attention on the family isn’t good.”

  “Hopefully.” Or not. “Do you have a distraction in mind?”

  He sat down, relaxing into his chair. “No. But I’m forming one.”

  “Well,” I jumped off the desk, “I’ll leave you to your thoughts. If you need me, I’m going to go spend time with Ethan.”

  “How is he?”

  “Perfect in every way. He doesn’t know anything is wrong, and I’m going to make sure he doesn’t miss any maternal love.”

  He kissed my palm. “Don’t get too attached, baby. Liam’s going to keep him all to himself, and when Mel gets back, I wouldn’t be surprised if they took off for a while after all this shit.”

  No. No one was taking Ethan from me. He was happy and I was going to make sure he stayed that way.

  “Of course. Now get to work. I’m serious. I’m sure we’re bleeding money. At least this is one thing Liam will be happy to get off his plate.” Kissing his cheek, I left him. Stepping out of the office, I called the only person I knew would take the bait…after all, he’d taken it once before.

  “Hello, Officer Scooter speaking.”

  “Liam Callahan killed his wife.”

  “I’m sorry, what? Hello? How did you know? Hello? Please, repeat that?”

  Hanging up, I pulled the sim card out of the phone before snapping it in half. I walked into the blue and green nursery, and there he was, in his little white crib reaching up for the star mobile.

  “There’s my boy. Who woke you up, huh?”

  He spit up bubbles, as he looked up at me. It was amazing how much love was in his tiny body. Lifting him into my arms, I found myself drifting towards the window. Liam had been so paranoid he had placed bars on it.

  “Your daddy is crazy. But don’t worry, he’s going to go away for a while, I promise.”

  Neal was going to be Ceann Na Conairte.

  My father was going to be president.

  And I would take care of him.

  Of all of them.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  “Deserves it! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life.”

  —J.R.R. Tolkien

  SCOOTER

  I didn’t understand why everyone was so damn scared. We got him. We fuck’en got him. I knew something wasn’t right. The man was hiding something and now I knew what it was. He was a bigger monster than I thought. I knew he was behind countless murders, but to kill his own fucking wife?

  “It’s not enough,” The Captain said. I threw the folder on his desk, the document I had spent hours building.

  “Sir—”

  “It ain’t enough, Scooter.”

  “Bullshit!”

  “Officer…”

  “No! I’m tired of this shit. Everyone is so fucking scared of these assholes that they turn a blind eye.” Pulling off my badge, I threw it onto his desk. “Take it. Are you in their pockets too? Or are you like the rest of these moral-lacking pieces of shit scattered in this city?”

  He rose from his chair so quickly it crashed into the blinds behind him. “Have you lost your damn mind? Do you hear yourself? I have half a mind to kick you off this force anyway.”

  “Go ahead! It ain’t like we do shit. I just told you two of his previous girlfriends ended up dead. Natasha Briar’s body was found naked in a ditch. Now his wife is missing and the man has been hiding something from day one! We got a call, a recorded call saying Liam Callahan killed his wife.”

  “Scooter, all you have is circumstantial evidence.”

  “Since when did we fucking need more? We’ve been trying for years to get this fucker and now here’s our chance. Be the man this city needs. Step up, for the love of God. Make those bastards pay!” He looked at me before looking at the folder on his desk. Folding his arms over his chest, he shook his head and turned back to the window.

  “Sir.”

  “Get some rest, Scooter. We go after him in the morning. I’ll get the warrant. It’s going to take a while to find a judge that will willingly get in on this.”

  I wanted to go now, but I knew he was right. The last judge that spoke out against the Callahans ended up hanging from a bridge. Although, once again, no one could pin it on them.

  “This is right, Captain. We’re doin’ the right thing. I know it.”

  He didn’t look at me. “Be here by 7:00 a.m. Go home, kiss your wife, and prepare yourself.”

  He made it seem as if we were going to a war, an all-out battle. But I had studied the Callahans for years. They were all about their public image; they wouldn’t do anything that would cause them to look anything less than perfect. They worked in the shadows and now they were about to meet the sun. Walking out of his office, I didn’t bother making eye contact with anyone.

  That didn’t stop my partner from coming up to me. “What was that about?” Beau asked, grabbing the file off his desk.

  I wanted to trust him, but I didn’t know if I could. “Nothing, the boss man was just laying one into me again for talking to the Callahans.”

  “I told you.” He sighed. “Just keep your head up, okay? Don’t let it get to you.”

  “Yea, thanks. I’m going to head out.” I didn’t wait. Grabbing my keys, I left the station as more officers came in. Everyone had been working around the clock to find Mrs. Callahan. It felt like there were more people searching for her than there were looking for the President’s killer. If she had only listened to me. I had thought she was in on it, in whatever operation they had going. But she was nothing but another victim. So many casualties, all so they could make money—blood money. The moment I sat in my pickup, my phone rang and I already knew who it was.

  “Scooter.”

  “Hey,” she whispered, “are you coming home soon?”

  Sighing, I brushed my hair back, staring at the phone in my hand. “I’m sorry, the Captain’s making us work late on the Callahan case. I’m going to sleep at the station if I get a chance. It’s crazy here.”

  “Yeah, of course. I’m just heading to bed. I just wanted to make sure. I love you.”

  “Yeah, goodnight. Lock the door,” I replied before hanging up. I sat there for a moment then threw the phone against the dashboard.

  “Fuck!” Even knowing I was wrong, I couldn’t stop myself. I still drove to Englewood to see her.

  The city was bad, but there was no place that was worse than Englewood. The moment I crossed the bridge, all I could see were run-down apartments with boarded windows and stripped cars. If you left your car for too long, you wouldn’t be able to find it when you needed to. I parked in front the liquor store before walking down to her apartment with my head held high. The men sitting on the stoops didn’t bother with me. They knew I was a cop, but they also knew I had grown up here.

  Apartment B-24. My childhood home, and even though my mother was gone, I couldn’t just let it go.

  “Coming, baby!” a voice yelled through the door after I knocked.

  When she opened it, her red hair was dripping from the shower she must have just taken. She smiled at me. “Well, look who it is.”

  “Do you have a client tonight?”

  “I thought you got me the place so I ain’t have to work so much.”

  “Good, cuz I feel like celebrating. I’m finally taking those fuckers down.”

  Her eyes widened as she opened the door from me. “Then let’s celebrate, baby.”

  Part of me felt bad, but that was eclipsed by the thought of getting Callahan.

  Finally.
/>   THIRTY-EIGHT

  “Freedom for the wolves has often meant death to the sheep.”

  —Isaiah Berlin

  LIAM

  I needed to see my son. I hated being away from him for so long. It had only been two hours, but a lot can happen in that short amount of time…like your wife could be kidnapped from her hospital room. I had to make it fucking clear that this was not the time for people to be plotting against me in Italian restaurants. In fact, there was never a fucking time for that shit. Declan opened the door for me and the wind blew harshly around us. I knew he was ready to back me up, but I neither needed nor wanted him to.

  “Declan, wait out back in case someone decides to run,” I told him before walking in.

  Just as I thought; the place was packed, and when I entered the hostess froze. She must have been the one who answered the phone earlier. Without a word, she pointed to the double doors that led to the kitchen.

  “Clear this place out, now,” I said. She gave a quick nod as she followed me.

  Some of them seemed to get it, and abandoned their meals and threw their bills onto their tables before exiting.

  “Excuse me, you can’t be in here, Sir,” a young boy yelled, lifting his hands from the dishwater. The chef came over quickly, smacking him over the head and nodding towards the last pair of double doors. On the ground was a man choking for air, spitting up blood. The three men dressed in black suits and shiny shoes jumped at my entrance, guns pointed and ready in my direction.

  Lifting my wrist, I glanced at my watch.

  “Go ahead,” I said. “Pull the trigger.”

  I could see it in their eyes that they really wanted to kill me but were physically incapable of doing so. The guns fell from their hands and I simply walked over to the empty chair the now dead man had knocked over. Stepping over him and lifting his cards, I leaned back.

  “It’s a pity,” I said. “I was hoping the pancuronium bromide wouldn’t have kicked in so soon. I told her to put it in your drinks after an hour, she seemed a bit eager.” Throwing a pair of threes into the center of the poker table, I looked into all of their dark eyes. “It’s getting harder to find good help these day. Your friend here might have had a bad reaction.”