Manhattan keep on making it, Brooklyn keep on takin' it

 

    She didn't look like a hooker, Dominic thought dimly as he sat, handcuffed in the chair in the dark 

basement. He'd been blindfolded when they'd brought him to the house. He'd still been half-asleep from

whatever drug that woman had slipped in his drink then, when they'd led him down the narrow stairs into

the basement where they'd taken off the blindfold.

    That was when the beatings started, the two men who'd led him down there, taking turns raining blows

on his face, chest and legs, screaming, cursing him in Spanish. Dominic wasn't fluent, but he knew 

enough to know they were calling him a rat.

    That had been the first day. On the second day a man in sunglasses and a leather jacket who spoke 

English had come down to talk to him. What had he told the FBI about them, the cartel? Had he said 

anything about Matteo, anything that could lead back to the Cartel.

    Dominic had denied everything. He wasn't entirely sure why, at first. He was almost certain that they 

were going to kill him anyway even if he did give them the information they wanted. Why make it easy

for them? He'd thought.

    He was now on day 4 and was starting to wonder if his handlers at the FBI even knew he was missing. 

The goons had taken his cellphone, wallet and everything in his pockets. From the last he'd heard, the 

indictment had probably already been unsealed by now, with the arrests coming down shortly after. He 

didn't think his Uncle Tony would lam it, if he even knew his arrest was imminent. 

    They must've had someone on me, someone good because I sure as shit didn't spot him. When he 

thought about it, it wasn't hard to figure out how they'd found him. Even though he'd only been in this

town for a couple weeks he'd already settled into something of a routine, after he was done driving Matteo

he'd go back to his apartment, get changed and walked down to the Satellite bar for a few beers.

        That's where he'd been 4 days ago, even more buzzed than usual because he'd smoked a joint with his

girlfriend before heading over. They weren't anything really serious, she was just a friend of his cousin 

say anything to her about his own connections. By then he was finishing off his 4th beer, still feeling hazy

from the joint he'd smoked earlier, when he'd excused himself to use the bathroom and as he was leaving

she said she'd buy his next round.

    When he got back from the John is when things started to accelerate. she started talking about her ex-

husband who'd left her for a younger woman. How she'd been so lonely lately, especially at night. lying

awake in bed in her little apartment. 

    By then, Dominic had long since lost count of how many beers he'd drank and the room started to spin.

He tried his best to keep to together as they talked and she starting to get more and more dirty and he 

started to wonder if he'd even be able to do anything with her in the state he was in, when he'd descended

into the darkness...

    He'd woken up with the worst hangover of his life, blindfolded, with his hands and feet bound by rope

in the trunk of a car.

    He looked around the darkened basement. A little sliver of light came through a small window near the

stairs which led down. He heard the thud of heavy steps on the stairs as another interrogator came down,

a different one than last time, with two large goons trailing behind him. 

    He wore a blue solo shirt, khakis, and Dominic thought he could actually see him being and FBI agent

himself. 'Untie him.' The man said to one of the goons. 

    The man led Dominic upstairs and had the goons ask him what he wanted for food and sent the goons

out to get it. A couple hours later, after he'd eaten and the man had brewed some coffee in the kitchen of

the small house they were in, that had almost no furniture, Dominic sat in a chair in the kitchen sipping 

coffee, wonder what this new tact was all about.

    'My name is Luis,' the man began. 'Your name is Dominic Carbone. You've been talking to the FBI for

almost a decade now, you started a few months after you first got made. You're used to navigating between

two worlds, being two different people.'

    Dominic shrugged, 'Yeah, I guess.' Luis poured himself a coffee and continued. 'Some of my associates,

think I should just shoot you and throw you in a ditch, make you disappear.' Dominic shuddered, he'd been

imagining just such a fate for himself the whole time he was down in that basement.

    He grabbed the cream from the fridge and put a splash in his coffee. He reached into a paper bag on the

counter, took out a breakfast sandwich from it, walked over and placed it in front of Dominic, and sat

down at the other chair across from him.

    'Now that could still happen, but I want to make you an offer. I like to think of myself as a pragmatic

man and I don't think I have much to gain from the heat that would come down from an FBI informant 

suddenly going missing. So here's the deal, we come up with a story for why you've been missing for so

long, you go back to your handlers at the FBI, and keep doing exactly what you've been doing. Except

now, you'll be feeding them information we give you.'

    'Alright,' Dominic replied. Luis took a sip of coffee, 'In fact I have something good you can bring to 

them when come back, evidence and information on who killed Gerry Pagano and who ordered the hit in

the first place.'

    'Alright.' Dominic replied. 'I don't think I need to remind you of the consequences of trying anything, 

playing a triple agent or anything like that.' Luis said. Dominic nodded, they'd already explained to him

they had his wife and kids addresses and where they went to school.

    'Basically I want Matteo out of the picture and Steve in the top spot, after we do some housecleaning

obviously. The packet of evidence I'm going to give you will implicate Matteo in the conspiracy to have

Gerry Pagano murdered, by none other than our dearly departed friend, the late Mike Rizzo.'

    'Alright, I think I can handle that.' Dominic replied. 'Excellent.' Luis said as he stood up. 'I'll get one of

my guys to drive you back to your car, and I'll have that file for you.'

    Dominic leaned against the hood of his car and took a drag of his cigarette, in an attempt to calm his

nerves. He had called Marvin, his FBI handler an hour earlier and told him he wanted to meet up, he had

some information for him. Marvin, naturally, had been pretty angry at first, asking him where he'd been 

and why he hadn't answered his phone for the past 4 days. He'd replied that he would explain all of that at

the meeting, he didn't want to talk about it over the phone.

    Then, on his way over to the QuickSaver parking lot where he was now, from his apartment he'd spent

thinking up a plausible story. He thought it was decent as it had elements of truth to it and sounded like

something that could probably have actually happened.

   The sun was just setting as he put out his smoke, got back in his car and turned on the radio. He was 

sweating profusely. He was hoping, mightily, that Marvin would be so enamored of the information he

was going to give him that he would forget all about his absence.

    Luis had instructed him not to give them all the evidence at the same time, that would raise questions,

string them along, he said. What he had today with a thumb drive with audio of Matteo talking to Mike

about having him whack Gerry Pagano. 

    Lying to a Federal Agent, Dominic thought as listened to the radio trying not to think about it too much,

at the time it wasn't much of a choice, die or have a chance to survive. Marvin's tap on his door awakened 

him from his reverie as he got out of his car and into Marvin's to have a chat.

    The story he told of his absence had many elements of truth to it, which made it easier to tell. He had a

older brother, by about `12 years, they'd been close growing up because they'd lost their father at a young

age. He ended up moving out to California where he'd gotten mixed up with drugs, buying, selling, and 

he'd been murdered in a drug deal gone bad. He'd gone out there to attend his funeral and settle his 

brothers affairs out there. While he was out there, he'd gone out to sea on a whale watching boat and he'd

accidentally dropped his cell phone into the water, which was why nobody was able to get in touch with

him.

  'What about your face? You look like you got banged up a little bit.' Marvin observed. Fuck, Dominic

thought. 'Yeah, crazy story with that. I was in this bar with this girl and this asshole started coming on to

her, grabbing her ass and stuff so we kind of got into it. I got thrown out.'

    Marvin shook his head. 'You got to be careful out there man. We need you.' 'I know.' 'I have something

for you.' Dom said taking out a small thumb drive from his coat pocket and putting it on the center 

console. 'Audio of Matteo Berardi ordering the hit on Gerry Pagano.' He explained.

    'How did you manage to get that?' Marvin asked examining the drive. 'I have my sources.' Dom 

explained.

    'Well, you be careful out there. Sometimes we get informants who start forgetting who they're working

for and start to think they can do whatever they want. I'll talk to you later.' The sun's going down as 

Dominic got out of the car and headed to his own. No good options here, he thought as he got in and

started the engine, no good options..

        My nephews really trying to flex his new muscles, Steve thought as he pulled his new Cadillac into

the spot in front of the Veterans and friends social club. He'd been watching a movie late last night with

Shannon when Vito had called him to tell him that Matteo needed to see him. Have a sit-down. That had

pissed him off even more because, he can't even call me himself? Vito didn't elaborate  further over the

phone exactly what it was  Matteo wanted to talk to him about, but he could easily guess. 

    He checked his hair in the mirror before getting out. From outside the club was little more than a 

storefront on the corner of a building, the smell of cigarette smoke greeted him as he made his way inside.

He nodded acknowledgment to a. couple guys at the bar as he made his way to the table in the corner of

the club where Matteo now sat.

    Matteo stood up as Steve walked over and they embraced. 'Hey, before we start.' Steve said, reaching 

into his jacket and extracting an envelope, 'This is for you.' He said passing it to him across the table. 

'Thanks.' Matteo replied. 'You understand why I had Vito call you right? Now that I'm boss I got to be 

a lot more careful.'

    'Oh sure, I get it.' Steve replied. 'You think I don't know? I did 20 years in the fucking can for Christs

sake.'

    Matteo nodded. 'I know. Look, I just want to clear the air between us, I've been feeling like there's been

some hard feelings on your part towards me, so I just want to get things out in the open. Do you have a 

problem with me being boss?'

    Steve shook his head, 'No, of course not. I know the rules the boss is the boss.' He explained, grateful

he'd downed a couple nips of wild turkey before heading over. It made the lying easier. 

    Matteo nodded, he took a sip of his bottle of beer. 'Alright. Because I'm only going to ask you this

once, are you going around making deals behind my back, not kicking up? Because that's what I've been

hearing lately. That maybe it's part of this resentment you have about me being in charge right now.'

    Who the fuck's been talking about my business? Steve thought to himself. He put up his hands, 

'Honestly, on my mother, I have no fucking idea what you're talking about. But you know how people like

to talk, like to stir things up. 

    'Alright.' Matteo replied, knowing how easily his Uncle could lie. 'Because I've heard other things,

about some deal you made with some white prison gang, how you tried to kill this guy but he ended up

getting the drop on your guy and now he's in the wind.'

    Steve shook his head, 'I don't know nothing about that.' He replied. Matteo sighed, this is getting now

nowhere, he thought. He must think I'm a fucking jerk-off.

    'Because with this fire that happened at the Wild Card recently, the Feds have been on us that much 

more, which is why we need to stick together. Keep each other in the loop. You know I haven't even been

able to get in touch with Dominic for the past few days? Especially me and you, were family, blood. We

have to look out for each other.'

    He's such a fucking jerk-off, Steve thought to himself. 'No, your absolutely correct, I agree one hundred

percent.' He said, smiling.

    'Because if you're in trouble or something, in over your head, you know you can come to me. That's

what this family is about. No are you sure there's nothing on your mind? Nothing going on that I should

know about?' Matteo finished his beer.

    'Nothing, skip. A couple of my juice loans that owed me got caught up so I figured I'd come by and

give you your taste of it since we were going to be meeting anyway. And don't worry about what people

say about you being the boss? Fuck 'em, that's what I always say.'

    'And who's saying these things?' Matteo asked suspiciously. Steve threw up his hands, 'Nobody, just 

you know, whatever you might have heard. Anyway, I got to get going, got some things to take care of.

He rose and Matteo followed suit, 'Alright, just keep me in the loop.' Matteo said after they'd embraced.

    Steve went to the bar and ordered a wild turkey, neat. One for the road, he thought. He winced as he

took his first sip of the bourbon, now, he thought, who's going around telling the boss all my business?

Northern New Hampshire

   Do these fucking woods ever end? Dan thought as the headlights from Mark's truck lit up the narrow

state road they'd been on for at least an hour. He'd grown up in the city and hadn't been much anywhere

else, besides Warner and Franklin his whole life. 

    'Are we almost there?' He asked Mark. He'd wanted to bring a couple joints to smoke on the way up to

meet these guys but Mark had put the kibosh on that. In fact Mark hadn't even wanted him to come along

for this at all.

    Marked sighed, 'About 20 minutes. Remember once were in there let me do most of the talking. Like I

was telling you these guys are intense, scary. I mean, I'm a big dude, I've been in plenty of firefights in

Iraq and fistfights back home, so I can hold my own, and these guys scare the shit out of me.'

    Dan shrugged, 'I don't give a shit, as long as they have what I need. We get the stuff, pay them, and get 

the fuck out I don't see what the big deal is. Everyone speaks the language of money.'

    'Oh, they'll have it. It's just, like I said, they're fucking Nazi's man. You got to be careful what you say.

They're weird man. Like some are totally sober, anti-drug, that's their rap. Then you go some who are total

methheads, strung out, give you looks like they want to shank you. But anyway, this guy were going to

meet, Bob, he's alright. He's just been a little on edge lately, that's why he's staying up with these guys at

their compound. I don't know all the details but it sounds like someone tried to take him out.'

    Mark turned the truck onto the dark road that eventually led up to their compound. More fucking trees,

Dan thought.

    As the truck rumbled slowly down the dark country road Dan noticed the 'No trespassing' signs on

a few of the trees flanking the road. 

    Finally at the end of the road they came to a metal fence that had a gate with an intercom on the side.

Posted on the fence were numerous ominous signs similar to the one Dan had passed on the road, these

ones warning of lethal force.

    Mark pulled up to the intercom and pressed the button, 'I'm here to see Bob. It's Mark.' He said. There 

was a buzzing sound as the gate opened and they made their way through. The compound was really just

a few acres of property, a farm house, a barn and a few outbuildings. Mark had told him that they had an

are for target practice and training somewhere.

    As they pulled up toward the main house a tall man in a carhart jacket with a long beard and a shotgun

approached their vehicle, Mark rolled the window down. 'Park around back.' The man said gesturing. 'And

I'm going to need you to surrender any weapons you have before I can let you in there.' 'Alright.' Mark

replied and rolled up the window.

    'What're we are the fucking airport?' Dan asked as Mark pulled the truck up. 'Listen, dude,  you want 

you can just give me the money, I'll go in there take care of this for you.' He said as he put the car in gear.

'Nah, man, I'm good.' Dan replied.

    'Alright because this guy likes to say stuff to test people. He likes to fuck with people, like he wants to 

see how you feel about certain things. Like he wants to get a rise out of you.' Mark explained, as he put his

pistol in the glove compartment. Dan's ex-girlfriend and mother of his two kids was black so he knew it

wouldn't be hard for Bob to get a rise out of Dan.

    'Look, bro, I'm good.' He reached into his pocket and counted out the cash for the guns, he handed it to

Mark. 'You do the talking, handle the transaction, I'll just hang back.' 'Alright, let's do this.'

    'We're rolling out in 5 minutes.' John told Raul. 'You sure you want to come along?' He asked. They 

were outside their room in the White Mountain motor lodge where the 4 Sicarios had been staying since

they'd arrived a couple of days before from Mexico. 

    'Yes, I want to see this thing through.' Raul replied. 'Alright.' John replied and went back inside his 

room. Raul had been tracking Bob for days. His truck had been parked at his house, but he hadn't shown

up for work in a couple days. He didn't seem to be at home either, but Raul, running low on options, had

put a GPS tracker on Bob's truck. Sure enough, it showed up a day later at the Aryan compound in

bumfuck, New Hampshire. 

    He'd gone to a local diner and asked around about the place. The locals said they mostly kept to 

themselves, they hunted meat in the nearby woods for food, grew their own fruits and vegetables in the

summer, and generally didn't come into town. They never bothered any of the locals, except maybe some

who came to close to their property, but even then it was just a warning.

    The first thing that was obvious to Raul was that a full frontal assault would be messy, and anyone 

hanging around nearby in a car would be too obvious, given the Aryans attitude towards tresspassers. He'd

done a little research on the group and discovered they were actually pretty big and made a lot of money

selling drugs in the prison system.

    When he'd explained all of this to Luis, the failed hit on Bob, how he'd called Steve and promised 

revenge, plus the Aryans and how they wanted to expand, he'd understood right away. 'Except we need to

get rid of all of them. Not just this Bob character.' He'd said. Raul had been surprised, Luis was noramlly

more pragmatic and eager to avoid bloodshed. 

    The motel was about ten minutes from the dirt road that led to the compound. They'd studied pictures

of the compound from the internet and figured out the layout pretty well. John had already sent a couple of

his guys over early to dispatch any sentries. They were both former Mexican special forces and were

expert at getting in and out of places undetected. 

     He lit a cigarette and looked at his watch, a few minutes before midnight. The Sicarios in the room

scared the shit out of him, he knew their reputations. They had those cold dead eyes. He was definitely

glad they were on his side. Even though the hit on Bob hadn't worked out as planned the deal had still

worked out for Raul and the cartel. Steve had parlayed the over 100 grand he'd stolen from Bob to 

purchase the same amount of heroin from Raul. Raul had told him that they'd provide him with people to

help cut, bag, and sell it all. Luis had gone over the broad stroke of his plan with Raul, to set up Matteo 

for ordering the murder of Gerry Pagano 3 months earlier. Then, they'd install Steve as the boss and run

the Cosa Nostra family as a satellite for the cartel. 

    They'd be given the cartels protection and a relatively hands-off approach, as long as they kicked up a

certain percentage to Luis. They'd also give Steve a wholesale price on the cocaine and heroin they'd be

selling him. 

    This white prison group, and this man Bob both represented a threat to Steve, therefore both had to be

soundly eliminated, Luis had explained. 

    As he put his cigarette out the door of the room he was sitting outside opened, and John, and the 2 

Sicarios emerged, wearing dark clothes. They had rifles and other gear in the black suburban parked in

the space just outside the room.

    'Let's go.' John said, and Raul and the other men followed into the black Suburan.

        God this place gives me the fucking creeps, Dan thought sitting on the old shitty couch in the living 

room of the old farmhouse. Bob was wary of strangers, and he'd never met Dan before, so when he'd seen

him come in with Mark he hadn't said anything, but Dan could feel he wasn't happy, even though his 

brother had told him that he'd cleared it with Bob that he'd be coming along.

    Mark had exchanged some furtive conversations with Bob before telling Dan to wait in the living room

while they took care of the transaction. In the living room there was a wood stove, and a TV where 3 men

and a woman were watching what looked like, something Dan knew he didn't want to see. Snuff possibly.

    He'd nodded at the people watching the TV and sat at the couch that was opposite. A massive Nazi flag

hung behind the TV, and Dan suddenly understood why Mark had wanted him to wait in the car. Of 

course, people like these would probably be suspicious of that. Dan knew he would. Still, it would be nice 

to get the hardware, a couple AK-47's, and. a couple Glocks with hallow point bullets. He was looking for

a big target to rob. He'd called up his friend Sea Dog, asked him if he knew of anyone, or if he'd be 

interested if he had a mark in mind himself. 

     Dan was still annoyed that that two bit, has been mobster Steve had colluded with his now ex-girlfriend

Amber who had shown him the location where he had stashed the suitcase of cash that he'd stolen from

Steve's girlfriend's Shannon's house while Steve was gone. Then the goon who'd visited him at his

apartment, saying he was from the cartel, threatening him. Dan hadn't forgotten any of it. But he knew he

had to be measured in his response because he was still on probation. 

    The couch  Dan was on was beside the one in front of the TV and he glanced over to assess the people

he was waiting with. One of the men was standing, his arms folded, looking at Dan. Grilling him hard. He

was tall and had a shaved head with an Iron Cross tattooed on his neck. The soldiers, Dan thought. The

other one was near the wood stove, watching the front door. Plus the guy outside.

    Then there was the man and the woman sitting next to each other. They looked, to Dan, as if they were

waiting for someone. The two soldiers hardly looked at them at all. He peered briefly at what they were 

watching on TV,  and it looked like, 'Faces of death.' He'd known because he'd known a girl, smoking hot,

upper class real buttoned up, who'd watch that. He endured it because the sex was crazy.

    The fucking waiting room in Hell, Dan thought. Hope this doesn't take too long.

        The guard shivered as a cold gust of wind blew right through his carhart jacket as he walked in a

circle around the property toward the main gate. Hank, the leader of this faction of the Aryan nation 

had instructed him to walk the perimeter every hour and check for activity in the forest or anything

suspicious. 

    The gate was as closed the same as it was the last time he'd left it as he came up in the dark. Hank 

didn't want anyone to be able to see anything going on his property from the woods so he hadn't put any

lights on the sheds or outbuildings on the property. 

    He walked up to the gate and peered through to the woods beyond. Most of the time, the guard 

thought, Hank's paranoia about the place being raided was largely unfounded. Despite Hank, and some

of the other guy's in the factions rants about the 'Revoulution,' and how they were going to bomb this,

bomb that, infiltrate and overthrow the system, there was precious little action. They shot their guns and

did their traning and many of them had served in either Iraq or Afghanistan, but from what the guard

had seen it was mostly all talk.

    The guard started up the path that led back to the main house. If anything, he thought, he could see 

something going down because of this Bob character. The guard hadn't liked him from the get-go, though

he'd kept his opinion to himself. Bob was a captain in another faction of the Aryan nation, a feared one at

that. He just needed to stay at the house for a week or two while he sorted some things out. He was their

brother in the organization and they'd protect him if they had to. 

    He could see the smoke from the chimney as he approached the lights of the house. Why the hell am I

always the one doing the perimeter patrol? He thought bitterly as a cool gust picked up. He hadn't liked

Bob since he'd come to stay at Hank's house a few days earlier. There was something about him that was

cold, evil. For one thing, he never lifted a finger to do anything since he'd been staying at the house. Never

loaded or ran the dishwasher, never got wood for the stove, although he certainly fed the stove enough

wood himself. 

    The guard stopped suddenly. Someone's here, he barely had time to form the thought before the felt the 

cold of the Sicarios knife across his throat, unable to cry out before he dropped to the ground.

    I'm not dealing with these fucking rednecks again, Dan thought, listening to the sound of the wind 

gusting outside. The videotape the couple and the soldier had been watching had ended and now it was

just static. 

    The soldier got up, walked over to the wood stove, opened it up, put a couple logs inside and closed it.

'If anyone asks where I am I'm out getting wood.' He said to no one in particular. Dan flipped his phone,

checked the time, dudes been up there for over 20 minutes. The fuck is going on?

    The wind howled loudly outside, the only sound in the house besides the crackling of the old wood 

stove, then the sound of the door opening and the wind blowing in from outside. 

    Fucking hungry, he thought, wondering, idly, if there was any food in the kitchen he'd passed through

when he'd first come into the house. It just occurred to him that he hadn't had anything to eat since around

4 that afternoon, now here it was coming up on 11 at night. He'd heard Mark's lumbering footsteps on the

stairs before he'd seen the familiar figure of his brothers coming down the stairs with Bob behind him. He

was carrying a large suitcase, which Dan could tell likely contained the guns.

    'We good?' Dan asked as Mark came down the stairs into the living room. 'Oh yeah.' Mark replied. 'Your

boy done good.' He slapped Dan's hand in a handshake.

    'My man. Well, let's get the fuck out of here.' Dan said, getting up from the couch. Mark made for the 

door, Dan followed behind him when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Dan felt his blood rise. 

    'Not so fast, I need to have a word with you, both of you. In the kitchen.' He said. 'Alright, just let

Mark put the stuff in the truck and we'll meet you in there.'

        Maybe we can stop at Wendy's on the way home, Dan thought. It was definitely at least an hour back

and he was starting to feel weak. They were both sitting at the kitchen table. Bob had brought in another

one of his goons to stand by the door in case they tried to leave.

    I'm bringing these fucking guns home, Dan thought as he waited for Bob. He had to go outside for a

second, he was looking for someone. The guy who'd gone to get wood. That had been when he'd sent the

large bearded goon who now sat silently by the door watching them.

    I can't believe this guy is really going to make so much trouble after we're putting money in his fucking

pocket, Dan thought as the door opened and Bob emerged from the cold. 

    'Somethings going on!' He roared as came into the kitchen. 'Fucking Gary is out there with his fucking

throat slit, just laying out there. I don't know where my other guy went. And all this shit happens on the

same night you come up here with some guy I've never seen before?' He leveled his gaze at Mark.

    'He's my brother man, I told you. I mean we've paid you fair and square I think we should be able to be

on our way, frankly.'

   Bob reached behind his back and pulled out a pistol. 'They tried to kill me a few days ago. Took my cash

and tried to stab me in the back, some half-assed guinea who didn't even have the balls to do it himself.'

    'But why would,- Dan began before he stopped, noticing something. A red dot on Bob's chest, he went

down on the floor, 'What- Bob began before the submachine gun fire hit him in the chest, knocking him

backwards.

    The rounds continued into the house as Dan hugged the floor, wondering if his brother was ok. He'd ,

managed to get down a split second before the firing had started only because he'd seen the red dot on

Bob's chest.

   When the gunfire finally stopped, Dan had a ringing in his ears. That someone was trying to kill these

assholes was not really surprising to him, he just wish it hadn't happened now. He crawled over toward the

sound of his brother, who he saw splayed by the kitchen table with a hole in his chest. 

    'Motherfuckers!' Dan said loudly as he knelt over Mark who was breathing laboriously. 'Dan,' he said.

his breath coming slow and ragged. 'Reach into my jacket pocket.' He said slowly.

    Dan did as he was told and found the 9mm where his brother said it would be, he put it in his pocket.

'Look, don't worry about me. I put the back with the guns and the ammo in the back of the truck on the 

left side in one of those black boxes. Waste these assholes for me.'

   Dan nodded. Glass littered the floor, and through the open windows Dan could hear the sounds of 

approaching footsteps toward the house, and voices that he thought sounded like Spanish. 

        He crept slowly past the kitchen through the living room. The couple who had been sitting on the 

couch were gone. It didn't look as though they'd been hit by the barrage because they were nowhere to be

seen.

    He went over to the stairs where Mark had descended a few minutes earlier, to the bedrooms upstairs. If

I had to guess, they'll probably come through the house to make sure they got everyone, he thought as he

came to the foot of the stairs.

    There were two rooms in the hallway at the top of the stairs. The first one, Dan could tell, looked like it

was occupied. There was another door in the middle of the hallways that he guessed was a bathroom and

what looked like a guest room at the end of the hall.

    Bob said he was ripped off by a, 'Half-assed guinea,' Dan thought as he opened the door to the last 

bedroom, who does that sound like to you? he thought to himself. And then that fucking guy who'd come

to visit him at his apartment, making threats. He said he was from a Mexican Cartel, and if he had to 

guess who these guys were he'd say it was them. It all connects.

    As he closed the door to the room he could hear the sound of footsteps downstairs. Dan felt the cold

steel, narrow hallway like that it would be hard to miss them. And I just got to kill one guy and take his

gun, maybe I can scare them off.

       He heard the sound of the footsteps ascending the stairs, soft, but still they were betrayed by the old

house. He went to the door, took the safety off his pistol, and listened. 

    He remembered the light on in the first bedroom. He heard the stairs creak as a pair of heavy footsteps

ascended them.

   The guest room he was in was dark, but there was a light in the hallway so he opened the door a crack to

see what was going on. He spotted a figure in all black, swat gear it looked like, opening the door to the

bedroom at the top of the stairs.

   The next thing he heard was three gunshots in quick succession. He waited a few seconds until he could

hear no movement before he emerged from the guest room. 

    The hallway was filled with smoke. As he walked over to the bedroom he saw the door was slightly

ajar. 

    He opened the door to a scene of horrors, one of the black clad men lay dead not far from the bed from

a head wound, the other looked to be still alive, bleeding out near the window. On the bed a man in a 

white tank-top and a 12 gauge shotgun, lay bleeding from a wound to his neck.    

    Dan took out his knife, took care of his one that was still alive. He took his submachine gun from the 

strap around his neck, found some extra rounds in his pockets. 

    As he put the ammo in his jacket pocket he heard a crackling sound coming from the man's body, like

a police radio. Then he saw it, he had a walkie-talkie on his waistband. He took it off and as he did he 

could hear the crackling sound again followed by voices in Spanish.

    He pushed the talked button, 'Your amigos not here buddy. And I don't think he'll be joining you.'

        

        John stood near the large oak a few feet from the house, thinking about what he'd just heard over the

two way radio. The other Sicario was waiting for his orders, his hand on his submachine gun. After their

initial volley had seemingly taken out most of the people inside, he hadn't anticipated much resistance.

    He could tell the other man didn't understand English, John was the only one on the team who could. 

The wind blew strong against his face, I've already lost two guys, and I don't even know how many people

they might have in there.

    And we've already let off a lot of rounds out here, Luis wanted to make sure it was kept quiet. He 

gestured to the other Sicarios that they were going to head back to the car. Don't run, John thought as he

walked back toward the gate they'd gone through with their suburban, nice and easy.

    That was quick, Raul thought as he saw the two familiar black clad figures come down the path to the

house. That was another thing, there were only two of them. 

    Something's up, he thought as John got in the passenger side of the suburban. 'Drive.' He said simply.

Raul started the engine and down the dirt track that led back to the state road.

    They drove in silence for the first few minutes down the darkened road toward the motel. It was obvious

to Raul that the two men were dead but he waited for John to say something.

    They were almost to the motel when he'd finished telling Raul what had happened. 'Luis isn't going to

be happy about this.' Raul said as he turned onto the road that led to the motel.

    John turned an icy gaze toward him, 'You think I don't know that asshole! I just lost two of my best

guys. They're not going to be happy about this in Mexico either. And all because of your dealing with this

Steve jackass and you not being able to kill the fucking guy to begin with!'

    'Well what about Bob? Did you at least get him?' Raul asked as he noticed a car coming up behind him,

a Lincoln, it looked like, blue.

    'Hey.' John said. 'I think you got a cop on you.' As soon as the words came out the blue lights lit up the

back of the suburban.

    'Fuck.' Raul said. 'Does he even have papers?' he asked about the other assassin. 'Sure he does.' John 

replied. 'Just be cool.'

       He's really laying it down thick. Jamal thought as he sat across from Eugene at a booth at Chapman's

bar and grill. I still can't believe I'm here, Jamal thought. In spite of his testimony about Eugene ordering

the murders of the two Russians at Steve's behest, and the evidence from the Russians car, they needed 

more to pin the murder conspiracy charge on him. So they'd sent Jamal back to the street to try and see if

he could get Eugene to talk about it on a wiretap. 

    They'd gotten there at quarter past 11 and the kitchen was closed but they still had appetizers so Eugene

had ordred a plate of nachos, some wings, and a couple pitchers of beer for them. Jamal had been 

surprised how easy eating and drinking with the man he had already betrayed was. The truth was, he 

wanted to take it all back. Everything, his entire testimony.

    Eugene raised his glass, Jamal did the same. 'I just want to make a little toast. To my right hand man 

Jamal Motherfucking Henderson, I'm so glad you're back with us.' They clinked glasses and Eugene took

a long pull from his.

    Damn, Jamal thought, but he was feeling good. 'Like I said, don't worry about the Italians, I was able to

get that under control for you.' Eugene explained. 'Meanwhile, I got a job for you. If you're up for it.' He

lowered his voice. 'It involves getting your hands dirty.'

    Jamal leaned in, 'I'm listening.' The two guys they'd used to dispose of the two Russians bodies and 

their car, explained. They fucked up, they need to go. 

    'I know it's probably been hard for you money wise since you've been back. So I can give you ten 

thousand for it, five up front.'

    'Sure, no problem boss.' Jamal replied. Maybe I can be both, he thought, gangster and informant.