Silent Death
Cryptid Assassin™ Book Two
Michael Anderle
This Book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
Copyright © 2020 Michael Anderle
Cover Art by Jake @ J Caleb Design
http://jcalebdesign.com / [email protected]
Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing
A Michael Anderle Production
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LMBPN Publishing
PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy
Las Vegas, NV 89109
First US edition, January, 2020
eBook ISBN: 978-1-64202-703-7
Print ISBN: 978-1-64202-704-4
The Zoo Universe (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are Copyright (c) 2018-20 by Michael Anderle and LMBPN Publishing.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Author Notes
Connect with The Authors
Other Zoo Books
The Silent Death Team
Thanks to our Beta Readers
Jeff Eaton, John Ashmore, and Kelly O'Donnell
Thanks to the JIT Readers
Dave Hicks
Dorothy Lloyd
Peter Manis
Diane L. Smith
Micky Cocker
Jeff Goode
Jeff Eaton
If we’ve missed anyone, please let us know!
Editor
Skyhunter Editing Team
Chapter One
The establishment was definitely more upmarket than what he was used to. It wasn't that class was a foreign concept to him, of course, but this definitely wasn’t anywhere he felt at home or even remotely comfortable. The fact that the elevator itself looked like it was made from burnished gold—although it was more likely some kind of polished bronze—was all he really needed for him to know that it hadn’t been designed or decorated with someone as ordinary-citizen as him in mind.
The touchscreen showed the numbers climbing slowly as he was taken up to the top floor of the building. The burnished gleam that surrounded him was enough to blind most folks to the fact that three cameras covered every possible inch of the elevator.
But not him. Not Jon Harper. He had learned to notice things like that and knew exactly what they were there for. Nor did he have a problem with it in principle. While some might say casinos were paranoid about security, they needed to be overly vigilant or they wouldn't make much money come the end of the year.
Or semester or quarter or whatever it was that casinos worked to—he didn't know, and frankly, didn't care. He wasn't there to gamble and there was no chance that he would be involved in the business at all.
Well, technically, he would be involved in the business but only—and always—as an outsider. He wouldn't take freelancer jobs if he had casino money, after all. That said, he could wholeheartedly approve of caution, excessive or otherwise, that would ensure a healthy remuneration for him at the end of whatever operation they had in mind.
The elevator dinged softly to confirm that he had arrived at the top floor. A young, attractive secretary waited for him with a tablet in her hand.
"Mr. Harper?" she asked crisply and flicked a few errant strands of brunette hair back behind her ear.
"That's me." He proffered a hand but she had already turned away and motioned him down the lavish hallway. They entered an office that looked like it was meant to be showy but still somehow elegant and professional. He could tell that the owner had aimed for shock and awe, especially with the fantastic view of the Strip below.
While he could acknowledge that it was as impressive as shit, his honest opinion was that someone was putting on a show. They clearly wanted to impress people and worked hard to achieve that.
It reminded him of the opportunity this meeting presented. While he thought he could see beyond the façade, he was also sufficiently impressed by the tactics to have a healthy respect for the man he had come to meet. His instincts said to tread warily and he sure as fuck intended to listen.
"Mr. Marino will be with you in a moment," the woman said before she exited quietly.
It took him a moment to realize that he wasn't the only one in the room. The second man stood from the sofa at the back and pulled at his jacket to straighten it.
His suit was obviously of a decent make but not expensive enough to belong to the guy who owned this office.
"Hi, Jon Harper," he introduced himself.
The shorter, black-haired man smiled and shook his hand firmly. "Mike Terrance. It’s nice to meet you."
"Were you called in for this job too?" he asked as they both settled on the couch.
"Yep. People I take seriously told me to take this Marino guy seriously, so here I am."
"Same deal with me. Wait, are you working with Bryans?"
"Yeah," Mike said and narrowed his eyes. "How long have you been with him?"
"Ever since Coral Springs."
"Yeah, I was there for that." The man grinned. "Oh, my God, the Benihana there was to die for."
"I know," Jon said and laughed. "I've been back to Coral Springs maybe three times to get another taste of that stuff."
"I won’t say I've done the same, but I've been to the other restaurants in the chain around the country and none have been like that one."
"Agreed."
Their conversation ceased immediately and both men stood from their seats when the sound of voices outside intruded. It wasn't long before the secretary returned, closely followed by the man they assumed was the one who had called this meeting.
He certainly didn't look the type to rub shoulders with freelancers, which obviously came as no surprise. His suit was understated but clearly cost more than what both men made in a year—maybe even twice over given that they were both fairly new in the business. The watch was of similar quality and so were his shoes. He wore a pair of glasses that were probably meant to show that he wasn't all business and had a fun side too.
Hell, even his haircut was expensive.
Two burly men stepped in on his heels. Their matching suits, the telltale bulge under their jackets, and the unmistakable combination of muscle and alertness were almost a bodyguard cliché. A single glance at them was enough to confirm that they looked formidable. One remained near the door and the other took a position to the left of the
massive desk. Their appearance didn’t surprise him in the least and especially not given that armed security downstairs had searched him for weapons, wires, and other devices before he’d been allowed into the elevator. He assumed the other operative had endured the same treatment.
"Gentlemen, sorry for the delay," the casino boss said. "I have been dealing with family issues, which include endless interruptions because casinos always need attention, you know what I'm saying?"
Neither of them did, and it didn't look like Marino even noticed their silence as he made his way to the truly impressive desk and dropped onto the chair behind it. He motioned for the two visitors to sit across from him.
"Julia, would you mind getting me an espresso and…something for my guests?" Marino asked and looked from one man to the other. "Coffee? Water? Maybe a beer?"
"Water's fine," Jon said quickly. A sudden attack of nerves clamored for something a little stronger, but he needed to present a professional front. Bryans had stressed that in the short briefing. He’d pointed out that this was his passport to the next level and hopefully, a better future. That meant losing the rough thug in favor of the tough professional, especially since Bryans had stuck his neck out with the referral. He wondered what his finder’s fee was.
"For me too," Mike agreed. He’d probably had the talk as well.
"Two waters and an espresso, please." The secretary nodded at her boss and left quickly. "You know what they say—always hire a secretary who’s easy on the eyes and you'll never work a day in your life, am I right?"
"Sure?" Jon glanced at his fellow freelancer and bit back a somewhat crude response.
"She still thinks I hired her for her qualifications," the man said with a laugh. "I mean, she has a ton and she's only working here to put herself through law school, but still. Now, enough of the pleasantries. We can focus on the business I called the two of you in for."
"That's why we're here," Mike said and stated the obvious in a hopeful tone. "How can we help you, Mr. Marino?"
"Look, you guys know that my father is the late and great Marco Marino." He leaned forward and took a sip from his coffee while he watched them speculatively.
"I'm sure we don't know anything about your dearly departed father and certainly not about any connections he might or might not have with La Cosa Nostra," Jon said and wondered if he’d phrased that a little too obviously. He wasn’t used to dancing with the mob but the man seemed to take it in stride.
"Yeah," Mike replied casually. He picked his water up and toyed with the lime on the rim. "All we know is that your father was a very successful businessman in the city who opened a number of businesses and gave thousands of people jobs."
"A real titan of industry, your father," Jon confirmed. They weren't trying to be disrespectful to the man but everyone in the city knew that Marco Marino was the head of Sicilian Mafia in the city. Everyone but the local law enforcement, apparently.
That said, everyone also knew you didn't fuck with the Sicilians, and that included being very careful how you talked about them.
"Good." Marino nodded as if they’d passed some kind of test. His face was affable enough but there was a hard light in his eyes that belied the pleasant demeanor he presented.
"So,” he continued. "The reason I need the two of you is with regard to my father's less than legal dealings. That’s why I made sure to recruit operatives from Bryans whom he knew would have no issue working with organized crime. The list was long, obviously, but you two were the ones he personally recommended for the job. He said something about…Coral Springs?"
Both men looked at him in implacable silence and appeared to have not noticed the deliberate question. It seemed the Mafia boss wanted more details, but while they might not be top-level professionals, they knew enough to not shoot their mouths off.
The fact was, Jon reminded himself, that he’d simply been in the right place at the right time. Bryans had a situation that escalated and needed extra people in a hurry, and he’d repaid the favor by pushing work his way since then. He’d be a fucking idiot to blab about the man’s business—a dead idiot, probably.
While Marino perhaps wanted to assure himself that they were the right people for the job and had what it took to get it done, they didn’t kill and tell. It wasn’t worth the risk to their own skin.
Or maybe, he thought, it was a test to see where they stood on confidentiality. That seemed more likely. Either way, he’d not get a peep from either of them about that particular adventure.
"So Bryans told you we were dependable and known for our discretion when dealing with illegal matters," Mike stated calmly but he shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat.
"Of course, that’s why you’re here." The man smiled a thin smile and shook his head. "Like I was saying, I need the two of you to deal with a sensitive matter regarding my father's less than legal enterprises in the city. As you are aware, he died earlier this month—"
"I’m so very sorry for your loss," Jon said.
"Very sorry," Mike added quickly.
"Thank you, I appreciate that." His expression seemed untouched by sentiment, but perhaps that was merely a public mask. "The situation is complicated. When he died, I inherited his ties and business relationships, although I was not the obvious choice as a younger son. However, the rest of my siblings are either out of the country and…uh, unable to return for…let us say legal reasons and the heir apparent is languishing in prison. Suffice it to say there is very little likelihood that he will ever have the liberty—quite literally—to assume my father’s mantle as was originally intended.”
He paused and his face assumed an even harder expression. “I now control his business as a whole whereas before, I had merely managed the casinos. As a result, I was never too familiar with the criminal element with which he was involved. In all honesty, I didn't think I ever would and so never concerned myself with it. However, his connections in Sicily came for the funeral and a somewhat compelling discussion. The outcome is that I'll control everything from here on out."
"It sounds like you have your work cut out for you," Mike said.
"Agreed." Marino leaned forward on the desk again. "There is a small problem, unfortunately. While I'm well-versed in how businesses are run—even when they're run illegally—I'm not yet fully confident to run a criminal enterprise. Getting millions of dollars in tax write-offs that would make the folks at the IRS shriek if it ever hit their radar? No problem. They teach that shit at Harvard Business School. How to keep the criminal element in line and working for me and no one else? That's something I'd rather leave to the…uh, professionals at this particular point in time."
"I assume your father had a number of these professionals in his employ," Jon said cautiously. "Why not bring them in?"
"If there's one thing I do know about the game is that it's about respect," he explained. "These guys were loyal to my father, there is no question there. But their loyalty to me only goes as far as they trust me to keep their wallets full while they're with me and make them regret it if they're not. If they realize I don't know enough about the business to run it effectively yet, their loyalty will decrease.
“On the other hand, if I bring outsiders in to take care of issues, they fear for their jobs and they don't know how much I still have to learn. Let me be very clear here, gentlemen. This operation has a dual purpose. The first is to send a very clear message to my existing workforce that ineptness and mediocre loyalty will not be tolerated. In my father’s time, failure was not considered an option and I see no reason to change that. This is my opportunity to reinforce it and to compel anyone who might be on the fence to adjust their thinking very quickly.”
Jon nodded. “So you want them to see that they need you more than you need them?”
Marino nodded, his expression implacable. “To accomplish this, I require you to give me a demonstration of your abilities." He held a hand up as both men opened their mouths to protest. “Hear me out, please. The opera
tion for which you will be paid is the actual demonstration. This will deliver the message as we’ve discussed, but it will also open the door to the possibility that I might use your services in the future. To be honest, I rather like the idea of having a select handful of mercenaries on hand should the need for them arise in the future. But whether that works out or not, I will still pay you above the going rate for your assistance in this problem. To me, it’s win-win, but how do you feel?”
"Well…there is the small matter that the pros your dad hired will lose," Mike pointed out. His mind had obviously gone in the same direction Jon’s had—to seriously pissed-off mob-owned thugs in need of retribution against those who’d done them out of a good payday.
"Those guys need a lesson in the chain of command, so they win too—once they have learned it, of course." The Mafia boss shook his head firmly. His eyes, now, were glacial. It was as if the real man behind the mask slid out for a moment, and it was chilling. The glimpse vanished in an instant, however, to be replaced by a winning smile. "So, what do you guys say? Are you in?"
Jon shrugged. It honestly didn’t sound too difficult, although they hadn’t heard everything yet. "Sure. I’m willing to listen further. What kind of demonstration do you have in mind?"
Silent Death (Cryptid Assassin Book 2) Page 1