Reno sat in the backseat of the Chrysler with Stef Siranno, his senior security chief, on the seat beside him.  Two of his other men sat up front, including the driver.  They all were parked across the street, and three doors down from a duplex they were eyeing.  A duplex on a half-dirt road with dogs roaming freely and a trailer park at the end of the street.  Reno didn’t normally come out on runs like this, but somebody was trying to smear his beloved PaLargio.  He was leaving no stone unturned.

The driver looked through the front mirror.  “You think this fucker really knows something, Boss?” he asked.

“How should I know what he knows?” Reno responded.  “I’m here to find out.”

“But a guy from a neighborhood like this?  Forget about it!  Looks like he wouldn’t know his shit from his piss!”

“Oh, so you know him like that?” Reno asked.

“I didn’t say that.  I’m just sayin’.”

Reno understood what his driver was trying to say.  He continued to look at the duplex.  “He might not know shit,” he admitted.  “But I have to make sure.”

The driver respected that.  Operation PaLargio was in full swing, but nothing was happening.  And everybody they checked out didn’t check out.  They still had a ton of questions, and zero answers.

“There’s Vic,” Stef said, and everybody looked toward the duplex. 

Vic, a short, thin man, walked out of the duplex and made his way toward his car at the end of the driveway.  They waited for the signal.  Either the man they were looking for, a guy they called Muddy Spaggo, was inside the home, or he wasn’t.  Reno especially looked intensely.

When Vic took the baseball cap he had in his hand and put it on his head just before he got into his car and drove away, Reno and his crew knew they had their man.  Vic’s baseball cap maneuver was the clue.

“Okay, he’s inside,” Reno said.  “Let’s go.”

The driver cranked up.  But he waited until after Vic had driven off of the street.  Then Reno’s driver drove the boss one street over, to an area just behind the duplex.

Stef checked his gun as they drove, to ensure he was fully stocked, and Reno’s man up front, on the passenger seat, did the same.  Reno didn’t bother.  His piece was always loaded.  He made sure of that.

Reno, Stef, and his man up front got out and made their way along the side of a house, through a long path, and up to the backside of the duplex.  As Reno and Stef went to the left, he motioned for the third guy to go to the right.  The third guy waited up front, on the side of the apartment to the right, while Reno waited on the side of the apartment to the left: their target apartment inside the duplex.  Stef walked up to the left side door and knocked.

“Who is it?” a voice could be heard from inside.

“Fifty cents.”  Vic had already told them that that was the code word to get inside to buy rocks.

There was a hesitation, but then the door was opened.

As soon as the door was opened, and the guy at the door was asking Stef how much he wanted, Reno jumped onto the porch and he and Stef bum-rushed their way inside.

Stef, with his gun drawn, grabbed the collar of the man at the door and forced him to the ground.  “Get down, motherfucker!” he yelled.  “Get down!”

Reno only saw a glimpse of Muddy Spaggo jumping out of a chair and running down the hall.  Reno ran after him, with his gun drawn, and he fired a warning shot to prove to the hustler that he meant business.

But Muddy kept running.  He’d seen who had bum-rushed his way into his place.  He’d seen that it was that nasty fuck Reno Gabrini.  He wasn’t taking any chances.

Muddy lifted the back-bedroom window and jumped out.  He landed on his hip, but was up and running by the time Reno made it to the window.

Reno jumped out too, and landed on his feet, and he took off behind Muddy.  The young man was fast, as he ran across the backyard and through the side path, but Reno knew he had planning on his side. 

A chained Pitbull, in a neighboring fenced yard, lunged at Muddy as he ran by, and started barking uncontrollably because they were running.  The dog’s sudden moves caused Muddy to nearly stumble and lose some ground, but he still remained well ahead of Reno.

Reno knew he wasn’t going to catch the younger man, but he kept up a steady pace.  Reno’s man, who had been waiting on the side of the duplex, was running too: just behind Reno.  But Muddy was running for his life, and he was outrunning both of them.  He ran through the path and along the side of the house behind his own, before Reno even made it in the path.

But Reno wasn’t worried, and for good reason.  As soon as Muddy ran out of the yard of the house behind the duplex, the Chrysler Reno had gotten out of sped up into Muddy’s way and caused Muddy to slide to a stop to avoid a collision, and fall on his rump.

Reno and his man ran up to Muddy and grabbed him.  He wasn’t going anywhere.

By the time they tossed him into the car, and got in themselves, Stef ran up and got in too.  The driver took off.

Reno and his third man were in the backseat, with Muddy sandwiched between them, while Stef rode shotgun up front with the driver.  While Reno’s third man kept a gun pressed into Muddy’s ribs, Reno grabbed Muddy by his chin, and turned his face toward him.

“No lies,” Reno said to him.

Muddy was terrified now.  “No lies, Reno,” he said nervously.  “I ain’t gonna tell you no lies.”

“What you know about Operation PaLargio?”

“I don’t know nothing about it,” Muddy said.

Reno took his own gun and slammed it across Muddy’s face.  Blood immediately started oozing out of the side of Muddy’s face.  “You think I’m playing with your ass?” Reno asked him.  “You think I came down to this rathole for my health?  Now tell me the truth, motherfucker.  What do you know about Operation PaLargio?”

Muddy could feel the sting of the cut and the pressure of the gun at his ribs, and he was in severe pain now.  “I know they’re out to get you,” he said.

“Who’re they?” Reno asked

“I don’t know who.  I just know there’s some guys promising people big pay days if they can bring them dirt on you and the PaLargio.  I hear they’re trying to pay off people who work there to find something, anything, bad.  But I also hear they ain’t finding nothing.”

“What kind of dirt?” Reno asked.

“Anything they can find.  I hear those guys ain’t particular.  They just want dirt.”

“You ever seen any of these guys?”

“I ain’t never seen none of’em, Reno.  I just been hearing things, that’s all I know.”

“Who paid you?” Reno asked.

Muddy was surprised.  “Me?”

Reno pistol-slugged him again, this time on the opposite side of his face.  Another gash opened.

Muddy was nearly hysterical with fright.  “Nobody paid me nothing, Reno, I ain’t lying!” he cried.  “What are you talking?  Nobody paid me nothing!”

“Then why did your name come up when I started asking around?” Reno asked.  “Why is it that of all the hustlers in this town, your name came up?”

“Because I hear things.  I hear things from my customers.  But I ain’t got nothing on you, Reno.  I sell dime bags for a living.  What I’m gonna have on a man like you?”

“Your ass knows an awfully lot for a sideliner.”

“Because I hear things.  People talk to me and I talk to people.  But everybody I talk to is on the bottom of the totem pole, too.  They don’t know nothing neither!  I’m telling you, Reno, on my old man’s grave, I ain’t involved in that shit.  I don’t know who is, I just know something’s up. Somebody wants to dish the dirt.  I ain’t got none to dish.”

Reno knew Muddy from way back.  His old man used to work for Reno’s old man.  His name came up because he’d been running his mouth like he knew more than he did.  But he didn’t know shit, Reno could see it all over his face.

Reno removed his hand from Muddy’s chin, and moved back onto his seat.  He was right back where he started from.  Right back to square one.

The driver pulled over and stopped the car.  “Beat it,” Reno said and Muddy, feeling as if he had been drowning but suddenly saw a lifeboat, gladly jumped out of that car and ran.