Chapter 5 – Tense Situation

“Ten minutes.”

“On my way.”  I dropped my cell phone into my pocket, grabbed my Beretta, and shoved it into the side holster under my jacket.  Three minutes later I was in the car and heading to Moretti’s office for an impromptu meeting that was suspicious to say the least.

In fact, he sounded a little panicked, and the boss never panicked.

It was the day after Christmas, and Rinaldo had just received a tip that Gavino Greco and three of his goons were on their way to his office.  Mario Leone had been unexpectedly called away on personal business across town, and there was no way he would get back in time.  I was close, though I was going to have to hurry.

My tires screeched as I rounded the corner, ditched the car – door still open – at the back entrance to Rinaldo’s office building, and rushed inside.  I took the stairs two at a time, and drew my gun out as I got to the fourth floor.

I paused, took a calming breath, and then quickly opened the door to the hallway.

Left.

Right.

Left again.

There was no one in the hall and no one besides me on the stairs.  The elevator showed all cars on the first floor except for one, which was on the sixth.  I listened intently, but the only sound was the usual noise from the heating ducts.

Walking backwards a few steps, I kept my weapon raised as I made my way to Rinaldo’s office.  It was empty, but there was sound coming from the back of the room near the rear door, which was closed.  I’d never been through it but always thought it was just a personal room for Rinaldo in case he ever needed a shower or a nap.

With silent feet I moved to one side of the door.  I was about to knock on it, but it started to open slowly before I got the chance.  The first thing I saw was the barrel of a gun, and my hand flew up on instinct.

The gun flew into the air, landed on the desk, and then bounced to the ground again.  I grabbed the wrist that had wielded the weapon, twisted it, and shoved the body it was attached to against the far side of the door.

Which is when I realized it was my boss.

“Shit!”  I jumped back, released him, and tried to come up with something brilliant to say.  “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t know–”

“Shut up,” Rinaldo said.  He reached over and rubbed his shoulder and wrist a little before he retrieved his gun and shoved it into the holster concealed by his jacket.  “You got here quick.”

“You said ten minutes,” I reminded him.

“That was more like four.”

“I figured ten was more of a maximum.”

He laughed.

“I always liked you, Evan.”  Rinaldo clasped his hand on my shoulder as he started to say something else, but I heard the distinctive ring of the elevator.

“Sir,” I nodded towards the door.

“Can you cover this?” he asked quietly.  I glanced at the monitors which displayed the view from the security cameras back in the corner of the office.  There were four of them, Gavino Greco included.

Greco was a man I had met on only a few occasions yet knew extremely well.  His family had been around for a long time – back to the Capone days – and he had a lot more support overall in the mob world than my employer.  Rinaldo Moretti had only arrived in Chicago about twenty years ago but had made quite a name for himself in a relatively short amount of time.  He came from a well respected crime family back in the old country, as they say.

“This is a problem, Arden,” Rinaldo said as the four men moved swiftly down the hallway.

“I’ve got it,” I replied, hoping I sounded confident.

I felt confident…for the most part.

I usually did.

Of course, a lot of that stemmed from truly not giving a shit if I lived or died.  The worst thing that could happen would be disappointing Moretti.  Considering there was likely only two ways out of this – winning or dying – I wasn’t too nervous.  If I disappointed him, neither one of us was likely to be around long enough to regret it.

Rinaldo nodded, placed his trust in me, and sat down in his high-backed leather chair.  He rotated his shoulders and adjusted his jacket before placing his folded hands on the desk in front of him.  I took the place to his right, since it would be easier for me to cover him from that area, and stood at attention with my hands behind my back.

“Greco, my old friend!” Rinaldo said with an overly enthusiastic smile.  “You are all the way across town, out of your territories, and unexpected.  I hope you bring me good news!”

I resisted the urge to glance sideways at my boss to get a better understanding of his words, and decided my eyes were best kept on my opponents.

My targets.

My potential victims.

Of the three surrounding Greco, I only knew one.  His name was Craig Flannigan, and he used to be a gun runner in one of the smaller operations before Greco wiped them out.  Flannigan was thought to have been the informant amongst the gun runners that made the hit easy for Greco.  He was tall, redheaded, and had a thick beard to match his thick Irish accent.

The other two were dark-haired and dark-eyed with big muscles bulging out of their tailored suits.  They could very well have been twins, but one had a scar across his cheek, and the other had a mustache.  They didn’t speak but flanked their boss closely with their hands placed near their shoulder holsters.  These two were Italian-descended and likely related to Greco in some way.  Flannigan would rat them all out if the money was right or his life depended on it, but not these two.  They would give their lives for Greco if it was necessary.

Loyal men.

Flannigan stood directly in front of me, blocking his boss from the known hit man.  It was defensive, and though it made sense on some level, it showed weakness.  It put a man between me and my target, blocking him from me, yes – but also providing me with a shield if I needed it.  Flannigan wasn’t even looking at me, so he obviously didn’t consider me a major threat – not when they had numbers on their side.

He wasn’t prepared for me to be here, and it didn’t fit whatever plan they had.  He wasn’t a bright guy, and impromptu wasn’t his forte.  This gave me a significant advantage.

“I bring news, old friend,” Greco said.  He didn’t bother to hide the menace in his voice, which wasn’t a good sign at all.  It meant he had already made a decision and there would be no pleasant negotiating before he intended to carry out his plans.  “I do not consider it good.”

“Do tell,” Rinaldo said as he leaned forward on his desk.

I wanted to tell him to lean back – he would be able to drop to the floor much faster if necessary – but of course I couldn’t.

“A shipment of heroin,” Greco said, “a shipment with my hands already around it has gone missing from my docks.  It is the third time in two months.”

“Unfortunate,” Moretti agreed.  “Do you think these thefts of your property are connected?”

“I do,” he said.  “I think they are connected to you.”

“That is quite an accusation,” Rinaldo snarled.  “You speak without thought.”

“I speak with evidence!” Greco growled back.  “Your own man found at the site with some of the goods still on his hands!”

“A mistake,” Rinaldo said.  “Why would I do such a thing and spark war with my ally, hmm?”

“Because your supplier has been hit twice by the feds now, and you are losing money!”

“Why do you say this?”  Rinaldo’s voice went calm, and he sat back in his seat, thankfully.

I tensed as Greco leaned forward slightly and placed his right hand on Rinaldo’s desk.

“Because your own man told me.”

“What man is this?” Rinaldo asked.  “I would like to know who is claiming to be in my employ under such circumstances.  Perhaps he had a Russian accent you failed to notice?”

The dig was definitely felt.  Greco’s eyes narrowed slightly, and his hand clenched into a fist at the mention of the Russian spy who infiltrated his organization last year and killed one of his sons during a drug deal.

“There is only one mistake this time,” Greco said quietly, “and that mistake is yours.”

It was Flannigan who acted when Greco tapped his thick finger on the desk – a prearranged sign.

I moved without thought.

Flannigan was going for his gun inside his jacket, and I wasn’t going to be able to both outdraw him like an old western and protect my boss at the same time.  Instead, I went with a more melee approach.

My hand moved out, knuckles forward, and collided with the center of his neck.  The choking, raspy sound that emerged from his mouth was accompanied by bulging eyes and a rapidly reddening face.  He dropped to the ground, and I kicked out at him while drawing my weapon from the back of my pants at the same time.

I didn’t bother with the other two men – there wasn’t time to actually shoot anyone.  Their weapons were already out and aimed at me.  I had to go with a more tactical approach, which meant pointing the barrel of the Beretta at Greco’s face.

Flannigan heaved in a breath, and in my peripheral vision I could see him drawing his weapon and pointing it towards my head.  This wasn’t part of their plan, though, and he didn’t know what to do next.

With three guns pointed at various parts of my body, I remained completely still.  My heart was pounding in my chest, and adrenalin coursed through my system, but I refused to let it show in my face or in the steady way I held my Beretta right between Gavino Greco’s eyes.

“You know you die if you pull that trigger,” he said quietly.  The calm of his voice didn’t match the slight tremor in his fingertips, nor the tiny bead of sweat forming at his hairline.

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

“So why don’t I just have them fire?” Greco said with a sly little smile.  “You’ll be dead before you can retaliate, and your boss there will follow you into the afterlife shortly.”

“No, sir,” I said.  “If I get hit, even with an instant kill, my finger’s already tight against the trigger.  With the angle and the trauma to my system, my finger will pull back in reflex.  Yeah, I’ll be dead, but I’ll take you with me.  Whatever happens after that…well, honestly?  I don’t give a shit.”

Our eyes remained locked with each other.  I could see the man’s eyes as they looked for lies within my face, but he could find nothing.  He obviously played more cards than he watched the Discovery channel, and I could see him ask himself – was I holding aces or deuces?  Was my knowledge of physiology accurate?

He had no idea, but he was self-centered enough to not take the chance.

“A misunderstanding,” he said softly.  “I’m sure the Russians must have been behind it.”

“Let’s put it behind us then, shall we?” Rinaldo’s voice floated from my right, but I could hear the odd tenor in the sound.  He still wasn’t sure – he didn’t know if we had won or not, but I knew we had.

Just the battle, not the war.  This was far from over.

“Put those down, boys,” Greco said.  “We don’t want to be late for dinner.”

Three guns dropped towards the ground, but I didn’t alter my position at all.  Even as all four of them backed out of the office, turned and raced for the elevator, the business end of my Beretta stayed trained to his face.

I did not take chances.

Never again.

I stood still as my heart pounded, and the adrenaline in my system started to sour.  My eyes stayed locked on the hallway, daring one of them to try to come back.  The lighted numbers at the top of the elevator showed their descent back to the first floor, and I still watched to make sure none of the elevators started to rise again.  When they didn’t, I listened for the echo of footsteps on the stairwell.

“I think they’re gone,” Rinaldo said.

I didn’t move.

“Arden, they’re not coming back.  Look at the security cameras.”

My fingers twitched on the handle of the gun, and my index finger flexed slightly.

“Evan.”

“Just making sure,” I said simply.

“Well, I’m pretty sure.”

I nodded, took a step back, and lowered my weapon.  When my eyes turned to the monitors, I could see them in a long, black car leaving the parking lot.

“They knew you were going to be alone,” I said.

“Yes, I think that’s correct.”

“Who knew Mario was across town?” I asked.

“A handful,” Rinaldo replied.  “There were six others besides Mario and myself in the room when he had to leave.  All loyal men, though.”

I looked over at him and raised an eyebrow.

“One of them isn’t.”

He nodded.

“Apparently.”

Rinaldo went through the list of people who knew about Mario’s sudden absence, and it didn’t make me feel any better at all.  Two were family in the quite literal sense.  Another pair dealt with some of the side businesses – money laundering, mostly.  Jonathan and Terry were also on the list

I couldn’t consider either one as definitely innocent or definitely guilty – I was too biased against both of them, just in different directions.  If I found out about Jonathan being treacherous, I’d have to kill him.  On the other hand, I wanted to find out Terry was a rat because he was annoying and I wanted him dead, anyway.  I’d shoot first, never bother to ask any questions, and then get burned later if I was wrong.

It was probably best I didn’t get involved in this one.

“I need you to do a little side job for me,” Rinaldo said.

He must have been reading my mind, but not in a way I considered favorable.

“What about Ashton?”

“When do you plan to take him out?”

“In Atlanta,” I said.  “He’ll be there next week.

“Ashton can wait,” Rinaldo said.  “I need this sooner.”

Shit.

His mind was set, and there was no way I was going to change it.

“Whatever you say, sir.”

“Do some spying, do some watching – all that shit you’re extra good at.  What do you call it?  Recon?”

I nodded.

“I need your top three picks,” he said.  “The top three guys you think might have said something to Greco.  I want to know why they’re your top picks, and then we’re going to bring them all together for a little party.”

“What about family?” I asked quietly.

Rinaldo’s eyes darkened.

“Your top three picks,” he repeated.  “I don’t care whose cunt they’ve been in or come out of, you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

He turned towards me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“I can’t let this go, Evan,” he said.  “I need some closure on this one.  I can’t take out Greco.  I’m not positioned to do that just yet, but I need this – I need this fixed.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied.  “I understand.”

“You will do this for me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now?”

“Now?” I repeated.  The look in his eyes didn’t indicate he was going with the equivalent of sometime soon.  “As in, right this moment, sir?”

“Find the rat scurrying around in my business, Evan.  Find him and bring him to me.  I don’t care about his relationships or how long he’s been here; I need to know who he is.”

“Three top men?”

“You bring them to me,” he said.  “I’ll make sure I get the right one.”

“Today?”

“Right now.”

I swallowed, and my still tense body tried to relax enough to think.  If this wasn’t a test, I didn’t know what was.  This was it though – this was the real way I got back into his graces.  I could read between the lines, too.  Don’t fuck up, Arden.  Not again.

“I will be counting on you, then, Mister Arden.”

I nodded, turned, and left the office.

There was a lot of work to do if I was going to have any chance at coming up with the right three people as quickly as he wanted them.  I also still wanted to make the hit on Ashton in Atlanta – I’d already done so much work to get ready for that, and changing the hit to another place was going to make it ten times harder.  I’d practically have to start over again, and I hated to waste work.

I had to move fast, but I had to be careful, too.  Bringing in the wrong people would be just as dangerous and career-ending as being late.  I had to know I was right, which means I had to go the fastest route possible.

First and foremost – alibis.

Usually I would use Jonathan Ferris and his computer skills for such work, but I was going to have to do this one on my own.  It wasn’t my strong point, but I had resources people didn’t know about.

I walked into Walgreens and picked up a pre-paid cell phone which I paid for in cash.  I examined the packaging as I headed back outside.  As soon as I stepped out of the revolving door, I had to jump back against the building to avoid some guy doing a duck-walk down the sidewalk.  He had a cup of something in his hands, which were clasped behind his back.  With every step he took, the liquid sloshed out of the cup and onto the cement.  A nearly burnt-out cigarette stuck between his lips completed the scene.

I shook my head and tried not to laugh as I dumped the phone’s packaging into the trash, activated it, and dialed a number from memory.

“Hey Eddie-boy,” I said into the phone.  “It’s Arden.”

“How goes, LT?”

“I’m retired, asshole,” I reminded him.

“You’ll always be my lieutenant.”

I honestly wished he wouldn’t say that.

Edward McHenry, or Eddie-boy as everyone called him, was the communications guy during the first mission I commanded and the only mission I commanded that turned out favorably.  We bonded just because we both grew up in southwestern Ohio, and his was the first friendly face I saw after I was brought back from the desert.

“Well, how about you do your friend a little favor?”

“Anything you want, LT,” Eddie-boy said.

“Phone records,” I said.  “From the past week from six different people.  Just numbers and shit will do, but if you got VOIP logs, that would be awesome.”

“Give me the numbers,” Eddie-boy said.

I rattled off the phone numbers.

“I need this quick,” I told him.  “Super quick.”

“You paying super much?” Eddie-boy asked with a laugh.

“What happened to all that ‘oh, my lieutenant, my lieutenant’ shit?” I asked.

“You should have gone for the promotion, war hero,” Eddie-boy responded.  “It just doesn’t flow like captain does.”

I sighed.

“Wire transfer?”

“Naturally.”

“On its way,” I said.  “Half now, half when your information proves good.  Double if you get it in the next hour.”

“Yes, sir!”

I could practically see him saluting.

It cost a shitload of money, but the information received fifty-two minutes later was definitely worth it.

I checked out Jonathan first and was glad to see that he ordered a pizza on his way out of Rinaldo’s office and spent the next three hours exactly where I would have expected – on the internet, watching porn.  I scrolled through the other numbers he’d dialed and other areas his GPS had tracked him, but found nothing the least bit suspicious, and I was glad.

I took a deep breath and happened to glance up at a shop window across from Millennium Park.  In the window was a “Save Ferris” T-shirt from the Ferris Bueller’s Day Off movie.  Jonathan always took shit for his last name because of it, but I couldn’t resist the irony, so I popped inside and bought him one.  His birthday was coming up.

For better or worse, Terry was also clean.  I had full speech-to-text logs on him going back a month, which was actually kind of handy.  He’d gone from the Moretti household to some shit bar by Dearborn Park and hung out with two friends he called along the way.  They were still there – or at least his GPS equipped phone was.  I wasn’t going to have time to go through all his logs until later, but it would be convenient if I ever needed anything on him.

The third one I checked was Steven Hobbs.  He did a lot of the grunt work when it came to siphoning funds from the world of electronic payments and turning it into cash that could be used anywhere.  The man probably had three hundred bank accounts, credit card accounts, and ACH routing numbers in his pocket at any given time.  He was paid well for his services, though he could probably just pay himself any time he wanted.

There weren’t any phone logs, but there was one call that looked a little strange.  Someone called him from a payphone across town – not an area of town where my boss’ people were usually to be found.  It didn’t make him a rat, but he went to the top of my list.

I went through the family next with a bit of trepidation.  Bad news to a family like the Moretti’s was likely to go from no Christmas card next year to an all out war in just a couple of minutes if the wrong words were said.  The last thing I wanted to be was the catalyst for a family war.  Fault or not, I’d be one of the first casualties.

The two in question were second or third cousins to Rinaldo and not close in the family business.  Close enough to not be stupid, I would have hoped, but they didn’t have their fingers in all the little pies Moretti had going.  They had been at the house to see Luisa – Rinaldo’s fair daughter.  Like Jonathan, she had a birthday coming up apparently, and they were all planning a cruise somewhere in the Mediterranean.

I made a mental note to come up with a suitable gift.

All the family members checked out, too.

Even Steven Hobbs’ boss checked out, which left me – interestingly enough – just the one real suspect.  I wondered if I might actually get that lucky that quickly.  It was possible.

I needed more intel.

I called Eddie-boy back and got Hobbs’ location – a bar over on North Michigan Avenue – and quickly made my way over there.  I recognized the guy at the end of the bar when I walked in, but he didn’t look up or notice me.

Hobbs was a chunky guy, mid-thirties with bad skin and greasy hair.  He was just the sort that spent his life trying to make up for all the times he was picked on in grade school.  I had no patience for the type, but that didn’t make him my traitor.  If nothing else, I would have expected him to be a little more nervous.  Who would betray a mob boss and then sit in a grubby bar with a Miller Lite in his hand?

It wasn’t long before a woman joined him.  She had short blonde hair, a skinny ass, and ridiculous heels – definitely not my type.  She sauntered up to Steven and practically sat in his lap.  The music was up a little, and I couldn’t hear her at first.  With practiced subtlety, I moved around the bar and sat with my back to both of them where I could hear pretty easily.

“So, no calls from work?” the blonde was asking.

“I told you, Maria, I did everything I needed to do earlier,” Steven responded.  “Part of what I like about working for Moretti – I get to set my own hours.”

“He’s a demanding boss, though,” Maria said.  “Maybe you’ll get a call about him.”

She kept asking questions, and the dumb-ass kept answering them for her.  At one point, she said the words I needed to hear.

“So, how is Mario’s mother?”

“I don’t know,” Stephen said.  “Once he left Moretti’s place, I didn’t hear from him again.  She went to the hospital in Gary – that’s all I heard.  Why do you care so much, anyway?”

Why, indeed?

She flirted and kissed on him for a while and then claimed she had errands to run and would meet up with him again later.  As she left, I tossed some cash down on the table for my seltzer and followed her.

She wasn’t all that bright.

“He hasn’t heard a thing,” she said into the phone as she walked away.  “Tell Gavino no one is on to him – we’re good to go.”

It was all I needed to hear.  I didn’t even wait – I just moved up behind her while she was still distracted and on the phone.  She hung up and started to rummage around in her purse for her keys.  By the time she got the car door open, I was on her.

An elderly couple and a bum on the sidewalk both watched me as I grabbed her by the arm, covered her mouth with my other hand, and shoved her into her own car.  I didn’t care who saw me – eyewitnesses were unreliable at best – and the one person who was sure to remember me later wasn’t going to live long enough to tell anyone about me.

I also just didn’t care.  It wasn’t like I was going to go to prison for anything.  If I was caught, I’d either be acquitted or dead.  Prison wasn’t going to enter into it.

Before she really grasped what was happening, I punched her once on the side of the face to stun her, then grabbed her keys and got the car going.  By the time I pulled into traffic, I had my gun to her head.

“No words unless I ask you a question, and no movement – you understand?”

“Y…y…yes!”

“What’s your name?  And don’t say Maria.”

She didn’t respond until I touched the business end of the Beretta against her temple.

“If I hit a pot hole, you’re dead,” I informed her.  “You might want to answer my question so I can concentrate on my driving.”

“Nina,” she said quietly.  “Nina Carson.”

I knew who she was immediately.  Killing James Carson is what had me sent to Arizona, and Nina was his sister.  Greco was doing her cousin on the side.

“Take out your phone,” I instructed.

With a shaking hand, she did as I said.

“Now call up Mister Hobbs and tell him you need to see him right away.”

“But…but I just left him…”

“Tell him to meet you in the parking garage of the Chicago Sun Times.”

“The garage?”

“You heard me.”

She swallowed a couple of times, and I had to wonder what was going on in her head.  She wasn’t new to all this, that much was sure.  It was entirely possible she knew exactly who I was, but not likely.

She made the call like her life depended on it, so maybe she did know who I was.  She followed directions and told Steven right where to meet us but not why.  She gave nothing away and sounded very convincing.

Proper little liar.

I pulled her car into a handicapped space in the parking garage next to a small, metal door.  I kept my gun at her face, moved backwards out of the driver’s side door, and then brought her through with me.

With her upper arm firmly in my grasp, I moved her past the piss-stained cement walls and to a small door.  I twisted the knob, and it opened easily.  Inside the room there were three chairs on the floor, a rusted metal toolbox in the corner, and a bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

I placed her in one of the chairs and grabbed both her wrists in one hand.  From the toolbox I extracted plastic zip ties and secured her hands behind her.

“What’s going on?” she asked.  The panic in her voice was rising.  I still didn’t think she knew who I was, but she was getting the idea.  “Please, I won’t tell anyone–”

I gagged her with a rag from the toolbox, made a quick call to Rinaldo, and then waited at the door.  Steven Hobbs arrived just a minute or two later, and I called out to him.

“Looking for a girl?” I asked.  I beckoned with my hand.  “She’s in here.”

The moron came right to the door, where I hauled him in and gave him a slight push towards Nina.  He stumbled a little, turned, and looked at me quizzically as I closed the door behind us.

“What…what’s going on?” Steven asked.

“Have a seat.”  I indicated the folding metal chair next to his girlfriend.

“Maria?” he said quietly.

“Try Nina,” I corrected.

He just stared, confused.  He was an idiot, like all men who did more thinking with their dicks than actually putting them to their natural use.  I didn’t even have to ask him about his past.  I knew it as well as I knew my own.

Overweight in school, bullied on the playground, and always picked last on the team.  He always thought he was much smarter than those who hazed him and thought that someday he’d have a great job and they’d have to grovel to him instead of laugh.  Instead, he got a mediocre job, no date for the prom, and was now being used by a woman who probably hadn’t even let him come in her.

I raised my gun and indicated the chair again.  He sat and stared at me with wide eyes.

It was only a few minutes before I heard the sound of additional cars parking just outside the little office room.  Footsteps followed, and then four short raps on the door.  I took a step backwards to open it.

Rinaldo, Mario, and Terry Kramer were outside of the door.

They wasted no time in letting Hobbs know exactly why he was there.

“Mario, this man here decided it was a good idea to tell your family business to his piece of ass,” Rinaldo said to his bodyguard.  “What do you think of that?”

“I think he’s an inconsiderate man,” Mario said sternly.

I didn’t really care for the games at this point.  They were both going to have to die, and we all knew it.  I never understood dragging it all out for the dramatic effect.  Wasn’t that the same sort of mentality that always screwed up the comic book villain’s plans?

They went back and forth between berating him and administrating a little light torture until Steven was blubbering about how he didn’t know anything about her.  He went from defending her to accusing her in a short amount of time, and she struggled against her tied hands and gagged mouth as he told them everything she had said and done.

She used him to get information about Moretti’s movements and gave that information back to Greco, who just waited for the proper time to use the information to eliminate the competition and take over his businesses.  Fortunately for Rinaldo, I had been there to stop it from happening.

“She was nice to me!” Steven finally cried out as Kramer broke another knuckle.

Terry laughed.

“I believe Mario would like to take care of this man himself, Evan,” Rinaldo said.

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

“I could help–” Terry started to say, but Moretti interrupted him.

“Shut up, Terry,” he said softly.

At least Terry had the good sense to listen.

Mario hauled Steven up by the back of his collar and hauled him out of the small office.  Terry followed, leaving Rinaldo in the room with me and the girl tied to the chair.

“Mister Arden,” Rinaldo said quietly.  He waved a hand over at Nina.  “Would you finish up please?  Not here, though – this place is a bitch to clean.”

“Yes, sir.”

Nina’s eyes were big as I hauled her up out of the chair.  Comprehension was washing over her face, and if she hadn’t known who I was before, she definitely knew me now.  Whether by name or not, she knew who I was to Rinaldo and his organization.

Still in shock, she barely struggled as I hauled her out of the little garage office and back to her car.  She did whimper a bit as I opened the trunk and shoved her inside, but I couldn’t blame her for that.  It was the last ride of her life after all.

I turned off the radio as I drove down to the water.  It was late, and there wasn’t much traffic as I crossed the West Grand Avenue Bridge and then drove down a side street.  It was a short trip, and I didn’t want to listen to half a song.  I pulled into a little drive area with a big sign that said the area was under twenty-four hour surveillance.

Sometimes they just made it easy.

I barely had to aim since I had shot out this particular camera so many times.  It shattered into pieces all over the asphalt as I got back into the car and headed to the parking lot just south of the bridge. I pulled up close to the building and parked in the shadows.

Nina struggled as I pulled her out of the trunk and onto her feet.  She didn’t come close to breaking away from my grip, and I wasn’t sure where the hell she thought she was going to go, anyway.  The building was inaccessible, and there was nothing here but gravel and the edge of the river.  Even if she did make it the full five-hundred yards and over the fence without me catching her – which she wouldn’t – what was she going to do?  Hide in one of the nearby ocean containers?

My grip on her upper arm tightened, and I hauled her down to the edge of the water.  There was a ledge between the building and the water where boats could come up and exchange supplies if any of that shit still happened today.

“Please…please don’t,” she begged.  Her nails dug into my knuckles, which stung a bit.

I didn’t answer her; I wasn’t really listening.  I’d heard it all before – the pleas, the promises – they meant nothing to me.  I had a job to do, and I was going to do it.  Nothing she said was going to make any difference in the outcome.

“Go on,” I said.  I gave her shoulder a little push ahead and got her walking while I followed closely behind.  I wanted her under the bridge where it was darkest.  If someone did happen to hear the shot, I didn’t want to be visible from Chicago Avenue.  She tripped over the asphalt once in her high heels, but I kept a hold of her so she wouldn’t fall onto the concrete.

No reason to die with skinned knees.

“Why?  Why?” she asked over and over again.

As if she didn’t know.

We made it to the spot on the ledge in the combined shadow of two buildings and a roadway.  I positioned her close to the edge, where there was less than a ten foot drop into the river.  She looked over the edge and into the water, turned around, and dropped in front of me.  She reached out to me with her hands, like she was trying to reach the hand of some god she saw in my eyes.

As if she’d find salvation there.

I looked down at the pricey heels on her feet, now covered in mud, and the designer dress strangling her twiggy figure.  I pulled my Beretta out of the back of my jeans and fitted the end with a silencer.  There wasn’t any reason to make unnecessary noise.

“Please,” she cried.  “I’ll do anything you want – I swear!”

Tears streamed down her cheeks as I raised the barrel of the weapon to her face.  There wasn’t any reason to drag it out – that would just be cruel.

I pulled the trigger, and her body slumped sideways.  One shove from my foot sent her into the water.  She’d be found, no doubt – probably before morning.  It wasn’t about making her disappear – it was about making sure Greco knew what had happened to her.

With the Beretta down the back of my pants again, I climbed into her car and drove it out to the airport to leave it in long-term parking, and then I took the L back into town.

I loved riding the trains and buses in Chicago.  I was a people watcher, and it was always entertaining as hell to be on public transportation with anything from a drunk, crazy homeless guy to an equally crazy high-class, sorority bitch.  If you were lucky, the two would run into each other and some kind of explosion would ensue.

No such luck this time, though.  All the nuts must have taken the night off.  Instead, I ended up leaning back in the seat and closing my eyes.  I didn’t drift off or anything – I still couldn’t sleep – but my mind started wandering.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

“Evan,” I tell her.

“I’m Lia,” she says with a smile.  I’m not sure if it is due to her continued nervousness or if she really just wants to be polite.  I watch her closely but don’t respond.  “Um…Lia Antonio.”

Smooth, flawless skin and warm, brown eyes.  When I thought about her, I always pictured how she looked when I woke up with my head resting on her stomach and her fingers running through my hair.  It had gotten long while I was in Arizona.  Well, long for me, anyway.

She smiles at me, and it feels like I’ve been turned inside out.

I closed my eyes and shook my head.

“Stop that shit,” I muttered.  “She was just some girl you fucked.”

A pair of tourists with shopping bags glanced at me nervously, but I ignored them.

It was late when I arrived home, but if Odin was ticked off at me he didn’t show it.  I took him for an extra long walk around the park and played fetch with him in the living room for a bit before I had a bite to eat.  He appreciated the extra attention when I sat down on the floor and rubbed his belly.

“I’m gonna have to ditch you for a while again,” I informed him.  He looked at me and snuffed through his nose.  “Just a couple days, I think.  No more than that.”

His tail thumped against the carpet, and I rubbed his stomach once more before I got up and headed to the shower.  The water was extra hot, and I loved the feeling of the moist heat.  It relaxed me, and I hoped it meant I was going to get some decent sleep tonight.

My shower finished, I crawled into bed naked.  Just as I was about to drop off, the phone rang.

Rinaldo.

“Sir?”

“You did good today, Evan,” he said.  “Real good.”

“Thank you, sir.  It just needed to be done.”

“It’s good to know there’s someone around I can really trust.  Damn good thing to know.”

“Anything you need from me,” I assured him, “just tell me.  It’ll get done.”

“I know it will, son,” Rinaldo said.  “I know it will.”

Son.

Leaning my head back, I closed my eyes and smiled slightly.

There was just no better feeling than pleasing the boss.