Mafia Trilogy 03 - The Scythe (17 page)

Three doors away from the end Darwin picked up his pace.

“Shelly Paulson, and yours?”

The voice was distant, but he discerned who the speaker was and what they were saying.

“We’re with the FBI. This is Special Agent Scott and my name is Special Agent Williams.”

“What?” Shelly said.

Darwin half jogged the last bit.

“ID please,” Shelly demanded.

As he hit the door to the stairwell, he heard Shelly say, “There was a guy in here who said he was you. His face was bruised up—”

“Get him!” Darwin heard Williams shouting through the stairwell door as it closed behind him.

He dropped down the four flights of stairs as if his ass was on fire, the wound in his side screaming at him to slow down. At the first floor he decided not to risk walking out into a trap. They could’ve radioed down and men could be running at the stairwell door right now.

He passed the exit door and continued down to the basement parking level even as footsteps pounded from above.

At the basement, he ripped open the door and ran for the sunlight pouring down the exit ramp. A lone vehicle turned the last corner and started toward the parking attendant behind a little glass enclosed booth.

Darwin hopped between two cars, ran by a cement pillar and then jumped out in front of the brown Impala a dozen yards from the exit.

The driver hit the brakes and raised both hands in a ‘what’s up’ gesture.

Darwin pulled his gun out, aimed it at the windshield and motioned for the driver to get out as he moved to the driver’s door.

But the hardened Toronto driver shook his head, defiant.

“What the hell?” Darwin shouted. “I’ve got a gun.”

“Hey, what are you doing?”

Darwin turned to see the parking attendant had stepped out of his little glass booth. He brought the gun up and fired a bullet into the glass hut the parking attendant had just vacated, shattering the glass on both sides. The attendant ducked so fast he stumbled and fell on the ground.

The stairwell door burst open.

Darwin tapped the glass on the driver’s side window of the stopped Impala and aimed the weapon at the driver’s face.

“Okay, okay,” the man shouted, his voice muffled through the window.

The door clicked and the driver started getting out of his car.

“Darwin, stop running,” Williams yelled. “We can help.”

“Fuck you!” Darwin shouted back.

He yanked the driver out of the way, dropped down behind the wheel and gunned the engine. Luckily, the parking attendant had already gotten off his ass because Darwin came close to the booth as he rounded the corner and squealed the tires on his way into the sunlight of a bright Toronto day.

He hit the brakes so hard, the car slid a few feet to the chagrin of pedestrians walking by. The sidewalk was jammed with businesspeople out for lunch. He waited for it to clear while studying the rearview mirror.

Williams showed up at the bottom of the ramp.

There was no end in sight of people walking back and forth in front of him.

Williams ran up the ramp toward the car, so Darwin edged forward, nudging people out of the way. He honked the horn and kept moving forward.

Someone shouted at him. Someone else slapped the passenger side window.

Then Williams jumped on the trunk and banged the back window.

Darwin made it through the people but had to wait for two taxis to pass before jumping out into traffic.

Williams slid off the trunk and jumped up beside the driver’s side window. He smacked it with the butt of his weapon as Darwin hit the gas, bunny hopping into the lane, where he slammed it down and sped away.

“The door was unlocked, asshole,” he said to the empty vehicle.

Chapter 17

Darwin headed deeper into the city. Getting on a highway would be a mistake. The authorities would be watching for him and were probably sending the information about this car to every available unit in the area at that moment.

He sped north on Mount Pleasant Road, continuing until he hit Lawrence Avenue. Then he turned left and hit Yonge Street where he headed north again. He needed to get as far away from downtown as he could by staying on side streets, but Yonge would get him above Highway 401 and nearer the Russian adult store on Finch.

Without interruption, he made it to the corner of Yonge and Finch, drove by the adult store and continued on for two more blocks. After pulling onto a residential side street, he turned the car off and sat listening to the ticking of the Impala’s hot engine.

He wiped his face with his hands and took a couple of deep breaths.

He knew this was a warpath against some of the most dangerous people on earth, but he couldn’t stop now. He had to keep hunting Russians until he got to the one who had his wife or knew where she was.

Having the cops and the FBI on his tail didn’t help. He almost got stopped back at the hotel. He wondered how many charges he was adding to the docket that his lawyer would read one day and curse his idea of defense.

It was time. He checked his weapons and then got out of the stolen vehicle.

On the walk back to the adult store, he crossed the street and bought a coffee at one of the nationwide chains. He took it to go and headed to the adult store, drinking it on the way.

Red lights flashed in the windows where mannequins in lingerie stood in various poses. A couple of adult games and lotions were also on display.

Looks like an average adult establishment. It would surprise a lot of people to know the Russian Mafia runs it.

He opened the door and stepped inside. A young, pretty girl sat behind the counter. She looked up and greeted him, her smile wide, showing perfect white teeth.

He sipped his coffee and acted nervous as he passed the counter, like it was his first time, and walked down to the section where the wall was covered in dildos.

I can’t hurt a woman.
Her head was down as she read a magazine.
Correction, a girl.

He needed to know if the Mafia meeting location was being given out through this outlet as the Italians did with their adult business.

He moved to the counter.

“Is there something you’re looking for?” the clerk asked, her accent clearly Russian.

“I’m here to pick up my paper for the meeting tomorrow night.”

She frowned, confused. “I don’t understand. We have no meeting here.”

“Not here? Yuri would’ve left notes on where the meeting will be. This is how they did it the last time. I was told to come here and you would tell me where the meeting was going to be tomorrow.”

“I don’t know this man,
Yuri
. I’m sorry.”

Something moved behind him. He spun around just as the curtain at the back dropped in place.

“Who’s in the back?”

“None of your business,” the girl said. “I think you should leave now.”

Darwin set his coffee on the counter, turned and started for the curtain.

“Hello back there,” he said.

“Excuse me,” the girl raised her voice behind him.

Darwin kept walking. At the curtain, he stood to the side, pulled out his gun and placed a finger over his lips for the girl to be quiet. He glared at her and showed her the gun.

After parting the curtain, he jumped through it, his back to the wall.

Someone banged through the back door ahead of him. It slammed against the outer wall and came lazily around.

He ran for the door and jumped outside and off the stairs fast, in case someone was waiting to shoot at him.

The man had a head start and was at least twenty yards ahead. Darwin couldn’t run that fast with the hole in his side, so he took careful aim. The back of the strip mall was empty except for garbage bins and a couple of cars.

He eyed the man and squeezed the trigger twice. Then he squeezed again and again. The girl in the store screamed behind him. On the last bullet, the man fell like he tripped over something.

Darwin started after him, walking. Running earlier in the underground parking lot of the hotel had hurt like a bitch. He had felt it when he’d settled into the car. Only now was it subsiding. He couldn’t risk injuring himself further.

He recognized the man from when he entered Yuri’s restaurant. The defiant fake cop.

Darwin leveled the empty gun and made sure the tip was pointed at the man’s crotch.

“You wanna lose your dick?” he asked.

“What? No!”

Blood trickled out of small wound on the man’s ankle. From that distance Darwin was surprised he’d hit him at all.

“Tell me where the meeting is taking place tomorrow.”

“Fuck you. I tell you that and I’m dead.”

“You
don’t
tell me that and you’re dead.”

“Then kill me, because I will not snitch. Ya nechevo ne znayu!”

“What does that mean? Speak English.”

“It means I don’t know anything. I’m not a
stukatch
, a snitch.”

At the girl’s voice, he turned to check that she wasn’t going to shoot him or club him over the head. The weapon she held was a cell phone. She was calling the police.

Having to run from the police all the time is starting to piss me off.

“You will sing when I get finished with you,” Darwin said.

“Fuck you.” He spit at Darwin.

Darwin wiped the glob off his cheek. Then he tossed the empty gun away and brought out both scythes in a smooth motion.

The woman screamed for Darwin to stop.

The man pushed with his one good foot, trying to edge away from Darwin like a stuck worm, but it was no good.

Darwin sliced down by the bullet wound and then again on the man’s other leg.

He howled and rolled onto his stomach to avoid the blades.

This was a high-traffic area of North York and he couldn’t afford Joe Public wandering back here wanting to be a hero. The back parking lot was still empty except for the Russian store clerk standing ten feet away, phone in hand, crying and shouting for Darwin to stop.

He brought his attention back to the man on the ground.

“You’re losing a lot of blood,” Darwin shouted to be heard over the clerk and the man’s own wailing. “Tell me what I want to know and I walk away. They will never know it was you. Don’t you think they will kill me when I show up at the meeting?”

“I will never tell you,” he shouted as he rolled over onto his back again.

Darwin brought a scythe up close to his face and held it there.

“Last chance. I’m done fucking around with you lot.”

The crazy man spit again. The store clerk screamed.

Darwin sliced through the man’s cheek, gouging the scythe across and out at the edge where his upper and lower lip connected, giving him half a Glasgow smile. For a brief moment, before the blood started to flow, Darwin got a peek of the side of the man’s dirty teeth. His stomach tumbled and almost let go, but he steeled his resolve and got ready to cut again if he needed to.

“Where are they meeting?” he shouted.

“You’re too late,” the store clerk yelled beside him, her face a mask of tears, her nose running. “You’re too late.”

The man wrapped the side of his face with both hands as blood poured out and around Darwin’s knee.

“Why am I too late? The meeting is planned for tomorrow.”

The clerk shook her head.

“Tell me what you know or this guy gets cut again.”

“Don’t,” the man under Darwin tried to say. “Don’t tell him nothing.”

Darwin smacked him. “Shut up. She’s trying to save your life.” Then he turned to the clerk who now hopped from one foot to the other. “Just please don’t hurt him anymore.”

“Fine. Tell me about the meeting.”

“It’s set for today,” she said. “They’re about to meet right now.”

Could Agent Williams have the wrong intel? Didn’t he say he got the information from the RCMP?

“Why did they move the meeting up?” Darwin asked.

“They moved it up because of you.”

“What? Me? Why?”

“We don’t get told everything.”

“Shut up!” the man below Darwin shouted. The corner of his mouth flapped when he talked, challenging Darwin’s stomach to stay calm.

“I’m The Scythe and I’m pissed. Don’t interrupt us again.”

“You’re not The Scythe,” the man said.