Paradise Burns (9 page)

EIGHTEEN

They both
looked at me as I entered.

‘Adrian,’ said Manhattan as he turned toward
me, flashing his charming smile. ‘Nice to see you again. I hope you come here
with good news?’

I made my way over to the desk, and
pulled up a chair in front of it when Jimmy silently offered me a seat with a
gesture of his hand. I sat down.

I couldn’t see any other way of playing
this, besides my own. When in doubt, stick with what you know.

I stared at the guy I assumed was Pellaggio,
who had yet to say anything.

‘So, are you the big boss?’ I asked.

He said nothing, just stared at me, weighing
me up.

‘Can I offer you a drink?’ asked
Manhattan.

‘I’m good, thanks,’ I replied.

‘So, what can I do for you?’

‘It’s done.’

‘Mr. Jackson has agreed to sell the land
to us?’

‘No, Mr. Jackson has been shot in the
head.’ I paused. ‘You’re welcome, by the way.’

‘Well, it’s a shame a deal couldn’t have
been negotiated, but no matter. Do you have the deeds to the land?’

‘Nope.’

‘Can I ask why?’

‘You can ask.’

‘Adrian, the terms of the contract were
quite clear. You were to obtain the deeds to the land for us, using lethal
persuasion where necessary.’

‘I know, but he didn’t have the deeds
with him and refused to tell me where they were. He seemed more scared of what
would happen if he told me than if he didn’t, to be honest.’

‘This is... unfortunate, to say the
least.’

I shrugged.

‘Well, what can you do? I’ll just get my
money and be on my way.’

‘Oh, there will be no money, Mr. Hell,’
said Pellaggio, breaking his silence. His voice like gravel, with a subtle hint
of old Italy in his accent.

I leant forward in my chair.

‘In the words of the Virgin Mary: come
again?’

I cringed to myself at having said that
– that’s something Josh would’ve said. I swear, if I don’t stop talking to him,
I’m gonna turn British myself!

Pellaggio leant forward in his chair.

‘I said, you will not be paid,
kid
,
because you didn’t get me the fucking deeds!’

‘I killed the guy you wanted me to kill.
It’s not my fault he didn’t have some documents you wanted.’

Manhattan stepped in, clearly wanting to
exert some kind of authority while in the presence of his boss.

‘By taking the contract, you accepted
responsibility for getting those papers. They were important, and you failed.
Therefore you will not be paid.’

I looked at him, then back at Pellaggio.

‘There’s something else, too,’ I said,
changing the subject. ‘I’m pretty sure I’m being tailed by parties linked to
Ted Jackson’s employer. I was being followed before I took him out.’

Pellaggio and Manhattan remained silent.

‘The point I’m trying to make here, is
that someone knew I was in town, and why, only a few hours after you gave me
the contract.’ I let the words hang there for a moment, so they could sink in. ‘Does
that not strike you as a little odd?’

‘Are you suggesting we have a rat in our
midst?’ said Manhattan.

‘Finally, he gets it,’ I said.

‘You got some nerve, kid,’ said
Pellaggio. ‘Coming in here, telling us you’ve failed to do what we paid you to
do, then accusing us of not having our house in order.’

‘I’m not making any accusations, merely
stating the facts.’

Silence descended upon us. We were at a
crossroads. I’d fed him the lie about Jackson not having the papers, which he
seemed to believe, given how pissed he was. In turn, he’d explained why I
wouldn’t be paid for the hit, which I honestly don’t care about at this stage,
but for the sake of keeping up appearances, I was feigning annoyance. I also
pointed out they probably have a traitor in their ranks.

The problem now is what happens next.

I got my answer when the big Axe Tattoo
Guy walked into the room. I heard the door open behind me, so I glanced over my
right shoulder to see who it was. I looked back at Manhattan.

‘There’s really no need for this to
escalate,’ I said.

‘You will get those deeds, Mr. Hell, or
you will disappear and become just another angel in Heaven’s Valley,’ he said,
with no effort to disguise his threat.

I heard the big guy move a few steps
closer behind me.

‘Jimmy,’ I said, standing up. ‘We both
know I’m no angel.’

I kicked my right leg behind me,
flipping the chair backward and into the big guy. I spun around, more concerned
with this threat than anything Jimmy Manhattan could do to me right then.

The big guy had caught the chair, and
simply threw it to one side. We stood, staring at each other, both weighing up
our next move.

‘So,’ I said. ‘What do they call you?’

‘Pick Axe,’ he replied.

‘Why Pick Axe?’

He simply pointed to the tattoo on his
forehead. I started laughing, which both confused and angered him further.

‘You know that’s a tattoo of a Fire Axe,
right?’

He stood, watching me laugh.

‘There’s a massive difference between
the two things. They’re look nothing like each other, and have to drastically
different applications. The guy who did you that tattoo ripped you off.’

He reached behind him and produced a
small, six inch, T-shaped tool.

I stared first at his hand, then at the
increasingly psychotic look on his face.

‘See?
That’s
a pick-axe.’

He growled and launched the pick axe
through the air, aiming directly for my head. I happen to have outstanding
reflexes, and was able to avoid the projectile. But only just. It whizzed past
my ear and I heard it impact the back wall. I assumed I wasn’t lucky enough for
it to hit Manhattan or Pellaggio by mistake.

In the split second I focused on moving
out of the way of the flying object, Pick Axe surprised me with how much speed
he could build up so quickly for a man of his size. He charged me, and at full
speed picked me up and threw me against the wall. The surprise, coupled with
the force, meant I had no time to defend, I just knew I had to prepare for the impact.

Unfortunately, the wall I crashed into
wasn’t a wall. It was a one-way mirror. And I didn’t crash into it, I crashed
through it.

NINETEEN

I went flying
through the mirror and into the area behind the bar. In a matter of seconds,
glass and bottles crashed everywhere, covering me and the bar staff in shards
and alcohol. I landed on the floor behind the bar, so I couldn’t see the chaos
that had been caused. But I could hear it. The music stopped instantly,
replaced by screams and the sound of a hundred plus people stampeding into each
other and toward the door.

One of the girls working behind the bar
was crouched down just in front of me, a piece of glass about two inches long
sticking out of her forearm. Blood was leaking down her hand and she was shaking
uncontrollably.

I was lying on my side, facing the bar.
I rolled over onto my back to get a look at the hole I’d just made in the wall.
Pick Axe didn’t follow, but I assume that meant he’d left the office through
the door and would be coming out from behind the red curtain any moment.

I tried to stand up, but right then it
wasn’t happening. Pain was shooting up and down my back, and I could feel blood
running down my face.

‘Oh, you son of a
bitch
!’ I
muttered through gritted teeth.

The bar staff had moved away and joined
the stampede for the door. One of the guys had helped the injured girl, which I
was glad of. I don’t like collateral damage if it can be avoided. This wasn’t
their fight.

I managed to get to my feet just as Pick
Axe appeared from behind the curtain. I was dizzy, and my head was banging so
hard I thought Van Halen was playing the intro to
Hot For Teacher
on my
skull.

Everything was a bit blurry, but I had
enough about me to survive. For now, at least. Pick Axe walked purposefully
over to me, his arms outstretched, ready to grab me and inflict more damage. I
jumped over the bar, into the increasing space on the main floor of the club.
The odd person was lay on the floor between me and the door, seemingly crushed
in the panic a few moments ago. I didn’t have time to worry about them now
though.

I had at least two broken ribs. My back
was going to be a black and purple mess for a few days, and blood was gushing
down my face and obscuring my vision. I wiped it clean with my jacket sleeve
and blinked to clear my eyes as much as I could.

I needed to get to my guns.

I looked around quickly, looking for
anything that could help me, but I was on my own. Any debris was over by the
bar, and I couldn’t have stayed there because I was trapping myself in.

Pick Axe adjusted course and headed toward
me once more. At least now I had more space to use.

The thing about fights, I mean
real
fights, is that they’re nothing like what you see on TV. There’s no
choreography, no drawn-out, back and forth battle and the good guy doesn’t
always win. In reality, it’s quick, it’s scrappy and brutal and it’s won by the
guy who doesn’t fight fair. You might not like it, but it’s the dirty truth.
People who fight by the rules don’t live to tell you about their victories. You
read about them in the obituaries . . .

Pick Axe charged me, snarling at me with
murder in his dark eyes. That’s a whole lot of momentum bounding toward me. I
timed it just right, and slid on my knees to the left as he was close and threw
a straight right punch, aimed directly at his balls. I felt pelvic bone under
my fist. I don’t care how big you are,
that
will always drop you.

Pick Axe was no different. He keeled
over pretty much instantly and sank to his knees. He skidded across the floor
and came to a halt about ten feet away, bent over in agony.

I tried to stand up, but a wave of
dizziness and nausea washed over me and I fell forward. I could probably add a concussion
to my list of recently sustained injuries. I pushed myself up with my arms,
bringing my knees up to support me. My vision was blurry still. I glanced over
at Pick Axe, who was trying to get to one knee himself, and shaking his head to
clear his cobwebs.

I staggered to my feet and made my way
over to him. I thought about grabbing his neck from behind and choking him, but
I looked at the size of it and figured there was no way I had enough juice in
my arms to successfully kill him like that. Instead, I jumped and dived forward
into him like a spear, bringing my right elbow up and crashing it down into the
base of his skull. I heard the crack, and he sprawled forward as I landed half
on top of him in a bloody mess on the floor.

I was breathing hard, which hurt like
hell because of my broken ribs. I rolled onto my back and looked at the body
next to me. He was dead. I knew he would be, because I’d just shattered the
part of his spine at the top that connects to the base of the skull, severing
the spinal cord and causing instantaneous death.

It took me a minute, but I got to my
feet and slowly made my way back over to the red curtain. I pulled it to one
side and reach down to retrieve my guns. Both were still there, which was a
comforting sight. I put one behind me in its holster, and cocked the other one
and held it steady in my right hand.

I walked back into Manhattan’s office.
Pellaggio was still behind the desk. Manhattan himself had moved around to the
front, as a gesture of protection.

I walked over, picking up the chair I
kicked. I stood it up and sat back down at the desk. I rested my hand on the
top, holding the gun.

‘Now, where were we?’

TWENTY

My entire body
was screaming in pain. I couldn’t tell what hurt and what didn’t. My face was
expressionless, but inside I was using every ounce of strength I had left to
stay conscious and focus on my situation.

‘Let’s get something straight,’ I said
to Pellaggio. Well, I think I said it to him. I could see three of him, so I
was playing it safe and talking to the middle one. ‘I don’t give a shit who you
are, or how much of this city you own.’

He seemed calm, despite the fact I was sat
in front of him looking like a car crash victim with a gun in my hand.

 ‘You arrogant sonofabitch! You’ve cost
me millions!’ said Pellaggio, standing and slamming his palms onto the desk in
frustration and anger.

‘Shut your mouth before you give
yourself a heart attack, you old prick,’ I replied.

I was in no mood for another lecture.
Right now, medical attention and a shot of single malt were one and two on my
list of priorities.

‘Let me save you the trouble of giving
me your mafia boss rant,’ I began. ‘You’re in way over your head. You didn’t
properly research Jackson’s involvement in all this. You have no idea what you’re
up against. That was your first mistake. Your second is that right now, you’re
dangerously close to underestimating me, which will not end well for you.’

There was silence in the room. Manhattan
hadn’t moved or said anything since I sat down.

‘My advice to you - cut your losses and
move on. Find somewhere else to expand your empire.’

 ‘Jimmy,’ said Pellaggio, after a long
silence. ‘Fix this.’

He pointed a finger at me as he spoke. I’ve
got to hand it to the guy, he wasn’t easily intimidated. I can understand why –
guy like him, head of a crime syndicate with half the city on his payroll and
more money than half the country put together. He’s probably been building this
empire of his since he was a kid. People quake at the very mention of his name.
Why would
I
worry him?

Manhattan looked at me. Then he looked
at my gun. He remained calm and I could see him planning his next move.

‘Adrian, I don’t think you fully grasp
the position you’re in. Mr. Pellaggio requires the deeds to that land. Life
will become very difficult for you if you don’t do what we’ve paid you to do.
You say Jackson is dead? That’s fine. But you need to find a way to get your
hands on those deeds.’

‘Jimmy, let me save us both some time. You
can’t make me do shit. We’re done here. You can keep my fee, I don’t care. That
corpse out there was probably the best guy you had, which means we both know
there’s no point sending anyone else after me. I see either of you again, I
will kill you. And it will be slow, painful and horrific.’

Manhattan stared at me. He believed me,
but I could see he was conflicted. Probably because his boss told him to handle
it, and he did anything but.

‘There’s nowhere for you to hide in this
city where we can’t find you,’ he said, tapping into some hidden reserve of
confidence. ‘If you start down this road, it will be the end of you, Adrian. I
can promise you that. Mr. Pellaggio doesn’t forgive, or forget. You should know
that better than anyone – it’s the very reason you’re here.’

‘So, what, you’re gonna hire me to kill
myself?’ I scoffed in disbelief. ‘You fucking idiot. Take a look around, Jimmy.
You hired me because I’m the absolute best at what I do. There’s no-one to
bring in who can take me on, and we all know you’ve got no-one on your payroll
who can do it. How’s about you quit with the empty threats, accept defeat like
a man and call it a day, yeah?’

Manhattan glanced at Pellaggio, who was
visibly livid. I suspect more so at the fact he knew he couldn’t win.

‘Let me explain something to you, kid,’
said Pellaggio, his voice was condescending and full of anger, which he was struggling
to restrain. ‘You need to fucking appreciate exactly who I am. You talk about
my payroll – my payroll includes the police. And the local officials. And a lot
of hired help up and down the West Coast.’

‘Am I meant to be impressed?’ I replied.

‘It’s not just this city you can’t hide
in,’ he continued. ‘It’s the state, the time zone, the whole fucking country!
You cost me millions and I’ll make you pay, you arrogant sonofabitch!’

I appear to have touched a nerve with
the big boss. And like a shark smelling blood in the water, I went in for the
kill.

‘Well, that’s all terribly impressive,’
I began. ‘Now let me explain something to
you
. I’m the man
you
think you are. You keep going on about me having nowhere to hide from you. What
makes you think I’d be hiding? I promise you, if I ever want to settle a score
with you, I’ll knock on your front door, ask for the
dick
head of the
household and look you right in the eye before I destroy everything you’ve
created. I will wipe you off the face of this earth, and I’ll smile as I do it.
You can pay whoever you want to come after me, but as a favor, I’ll give you
some advice to try and save you the money: ask around. You’ll soon find that
most people out there know that I’m not one with whom to fuck. Now, from here
on out, I’ll stay out of your way, you stay out of mine. Sound good to you?’

They both stared at me; Manhattan looked
afraid, whereas Pellaggio just looked angry. But neither one of them replied.

I said, ‘Okay then. I’m glad we’re all
in agreement.

Content that was the end of the discussion,
I stood and backed away, keeping my gun aimed at them until I reached the door.
Manhattan had perched on the end of this desk, his hands clasped on his lap.
Pellaggio was staring a hole through me. He hadn’t said anything, but I could
almost smell his anger. He obviously wasn’t used to not scaring people or
getting his own way.

I left the office and went through the
red curtain, back out into the club. Now everything had settled, the place looked
like a warzone. I re-holstered my gun and stared at them one final time through
the hole I’d made in the mirror. Then I turned and walked out of the club.

I turned left out of the doors and down
the street. The street was filled with people who were in the club, along with
many others who had stopped to stare at the scene. In the distance, I could
hear sirens.

I turned into an alleyway and broke into
a jog, anxious to put some distance between myself and the club.

God, I needed a drink.