The Damascus Chronicles (7 page)

“Katrina?” asked Serena.

“Yes,” said Michael. “I remember seeing the evil bastard grinning just before he shot her. I didn’t see the guy’s face; it was hidden under a white mask. I wasn’t in time to be able to stop him. Just before he jumped out of the window, a bomb went off. The blast engulfed the whole room in fire and blew me out of a sixth story window. I landed in a tree below. After being sent back to the states I could not remember anything: who I was, where I was, or even my own name. I was in a coma for three months. After I woke up, I could barely move. My jaw was smashed in, my legs were broken and my body was severely burned. I was in bad shape, hooked up to feeding tubes and respirators. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. After about a year in the hospital, my memory began to come back. The same nightmare has haunted me night after night, even now. Somehow in all that hell, I learned that there was a God and that his name was Felice Santerini. The family learned about my experience from Jackie. We grew up together and were very close as kids in New York. Until the accident happened, I had no dealings with his crew. The deal was they would save my life with the best doctors and medicine that money could buy. In return, I would work for them exclusively. I also learned from an old friend in the unit that my sister’s killer was in Vegas through various reports from Strossinburg’s dirty little network. He came to Las Vegas to get away from the media reports of Turkey’s list of suspected terrorists. However, no one in the United States could trace any leads to prove who he really was. So how could I refuse? I’ve been trying to find that rat bastard ever since. Then just last night at the warehouse, I spotted the man that killed my sister.”

“Scarfo and your mystery killer seem to be working together,” said Serena.

“It seems that way. And by the look of it all, this killer has some political connections in high places. I recognized the ring he was wearing; it’s the same one I’ve seen in my nightmares. Franco Scarfo is in league with some very powerful organizations; all I need to do is to find out who they are and take them down,” said Michael.

“I want to help you,” Serena said.

“No, this is getting dangerous. I need you to stay hidden in the trenches,” said Michael.

“I can look after myself!” Serena exclaimed. “Besides, I can be your eyes and ears. Remember, a thief in the night is like a shadow,” she continued before Michael could open his mouth to contradict her.

“All right then, have it your way,” Michael replied coolly. His cell phone rang.

“Michael! Michael!” yelled a gruff man’s voice through the phone.

“Yeah?” responded Michael.

”It’s me, Sal!”

“Salvatore, what’s wrong?”

“We got us a situation here!”

“What happened?”

“We’re losing our protection money to Frank Scarfo’s guys on the eastside. Take those son’s of bitches out!” yelled Sal.

“Sal, cool it, are you sure it’s Scarfo’s guys?”

“Do I sound like I’m kidding? Get your motherfucking ass down to Sidney’s and get back that money. When you got it, bring the cash to Paulie down at the Turquoise Terrace Tower; he’ll deliver the money to Riffman.”

“Who’s this Riffman?” asked Michael, confused as this familiar name passed through his mind.

“Let me worry about that, just get the money!” Sal was pissed off.

“I forgot to mention that this little venture is not our only problem,” said Michael.

”What do you mean?” asked Sal impatiently.

“The drop that was made, well, someone else got to it after we obtained it from Scarfo’s guys. It happened before we could finish the transfer.”

“WHAT!!! FUNGU! Strunzoo Cani!” Sal swore in Italian.

“Relax, Salvatore, I’ll get the collection and then we’ll worry about recovering the other sum.”

“Get that damn money! Call Jackie, now!” “Damn!” yelled Michael as he hung up his cell phone. “I’ve got to go.” Michael got up to leave in a hurry, snatching up his coat and dropping a tip on the table.

“What’s wrong?” asked Serena.

“Business, don’t worry love, I’ll be home by two.”

“Be careful Michael and take this just in case.” Serena handed him a little bottle of blood for food. She kissed him good luck as he headed out the door, thanking her with a smile.

Michael took off in his 1963 hell Kat with the pistons blazing; he was headed down to the eastside of Las Vegas’ business district. He caught air off a bump in the road, and flipping out his cell phone coolly, said, “Jackie, its Mike. Gather the crew. We got to clean the collectors.”

“Got you Mike, grab us on the Strip at the Dingo Hotel and Casino in Old Vegas,” said Jackie. Michael zoomed to the back lot of the Dingo, where Jackie, Anthony, and Sal waited impatiently.

”That damn idiot Paulie! How the hell could he let 500 g’s get slipped under his nose like that, fucking ball breaker!” Sal lit a cigarette. Sal was an old timer Dago by heart. Dressed in an Italian suit and pants, he wore two gold rings on his right hand and wore the finest shoes; he had a small crown of grey hair around his forehead and old blue eyes.

“Don’t talk that way about Paulie, Sal. He’s a made man and a decent one at that,” said Anthony. “Besides, if anyone should be calling the kettle black I would say it’s your fucking fault.”

“Ahh, that’s bullshit, you son of a bitch. You think I would screw over the Don and the organization like that?” asked Sal.

“I’m just saying, if the shoe fits, wise ass,” said Anthony coolly.

“Fuck you! Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Listen dickhead, the Don put you in charge of the operation,” said Anthony, getting agitated.

“What! Do you think I stole it?” Sal was getting hot under the collar.

“No, but I just found out from one of our contacts on the north side of town last night that you and your crew did get hit by someone after you boosted the cash from Scarfo’s delivery truck.”

“I admit it, I found out too, an hour ago at the Bouvard Lounge from Joe. How in hell was I supposed to know? I wasn’t actually there on the night of the job. When it was going down, I was doing bookie work at the Maddox Casino for Paulie. Ask Mike, he was on the job.” Sal shook his head.

“True, but he headed home after he escorted the truck to your guys. I know because I was the lookout at the drop-off point,” said Anthony.

“There’s no use bitching about it now. Let’s just make this collection and we’ll figure it out later,” said Jackie.

“Should we tell Mike?” asked Anthony.

“hell no! Not now; this is a major embarrassment on my part with my guys fucking up and he’s been put through enough shit lately,” said Sal, guilty.

Michael called out to his crew and Jackie and the others hopped in. “What the hell are you doing here?” Michael asked Sal.

“Wanted to make sure there would be no problems. Besides, Jackie told me he was short one guy for a job like this,” Sal answered.

The crew raced to Sidney’s off-track betting club, just as Scarfo’s thugs were loading the back of their large delivery truck with bags of stolen protection money. Suddenly, one of the thug’s cell phones rang. “Yeah Boss,” responded the thug, and a muffled voice spoke over on the phone. “What!” exclaimed the thug in surprise. “Let’s get the fuck out of here!”

The loaded truck took off like lighting, just as Michael and the others got to Sidney’s.

“What the hell?” Jackie said. “They must have been tipped off that we were coming,” said Sal.

“Hold on boys, let’s nail these assholes!” Michael slammed the gas pedal to the floor as they chased the truck on the highway. One thug pulled out an Uzi and the other pulled out an M-16. Both opened fire on the hell Kat; bullets flew as streams of smoke flew out the windows.

“Shit, they’re packed!” said Anthony in surprise.

“What the fuck!” Sal screamed.

The quartet pulled out their pistols and returned fire; bullets zinged between both vehicles as they whipped down the road, with Michael swinging in and out of lanes to keep the gas tank from being hit. Bullets nicked Michael’s windshield and shots penetrated his left headlight.

“Shit! They’re too heavily armed. Mike, head in closer, I’m going to try something,” said Jackie.

“Don’t be an idiot!” screamed Sal.

“Fuck it!” Michael’s eyes twitched as he floored the pedal. Jackie crawled out of the right side window and climbed on top of the car, barely able to keep his footing. He jumped on the lift stand of the truck and shot off the lock opening the back door, then headed inside the back of the truck. Once inside he started grabbing the bags of money two at a time, tossing them to Anthony through the sunroof on Michael’s car. To make matters worse, the cops were behind them and were catching up quickly. ”Cops!” yelled Anthony.

Suddenly the little slit driver window opened from where the driver and passenger were siting and a gun popped out of it, firing at the four friends. Jackie fired back at same time four bullets hit him in the chest. Jackie knocked the gun out of the hand of the thug on the passenger side of the truck and shot him in the head as blood spurted in Jackie’s face. Jackie then pressed his gun to the thug driving and yelled, “Stop the fucking truck!” As the truck swerved, a small box in the back fell over, revealing an electronic timer linked to a bomb counting down the 15 seconds left until detonation.

“Oh shit!” Jackie screamed as he bailed out of the back of the truck, landing on top of Michael’s car. Sal pulled him up by his arms. “BOMB!” yelled Jackie. Michael turned the car onto a ramp off the highway just as the truck exploded into flames. With the cops still on their tails, Jackie feverishly looked through Michael’s glove compartment and pulled out a can of tacks, a hammer and cigarette lighter. Jackie dumped the tacks out the window, onto the street. The tires of two of the patrol cars blew, causing the vehicles to flip over and explode, unleashing a domino effect with the other police cars.

Michael continued to speed off into the abandoned industrial district of town, with more patrol cars in pursuit. Tossing a smoke grenade out of the car, he blinded the pursuers. Luckily, he knew they were near a dark alley that had a lift to an old underground subway tunnel. These old subway tunnels were used in 2010 as a shortcut for people coming from California to Nevada, but had been closed due to broken gas mains underneath the tunnel lines. The car stopped on the lift and headed underground, safe from the police.

The engine of the car died as Michael removed the key from the ignition switch. “Everyone all right?” asked Michael, breathing heavy, trying to digest the insanity that he and the others had just underwent. Michael popped open the little bottle that Serena had given him and chugged the blood inside.

“Let me have a shot of that whiskey,” said Sal in the back, mistaking it for booze in the dark.

“Sorry, all gone,” said Michael.

“I’m fine, thank you,” said Jackie sarcastically as he removed the bulletproof vest out from under his shirt.

“Holy mother of God!” said Sal in amazement.

“Always be prepared, like you said bro.” Jackie gasped to catch his breath while he smirked at Michael. Michael couldn’t help but smile back.

“You okay Sal?” Anthony asked.

“Real fucking beautiful. We just blew up a shitload of the Don’s money with half of Vegas’ finest on our asses, not to mention blowing up two police cars and now getting a whole bunch of attention on us from the press, and you have the audacity to ask me if I am okay!” Sal was pissed off.

“I wager this is going to be printed on the front page of every paper and be on every news channel,” said Anthony, looking worried.

“Hey it’s not too bad, look at these.” Jackie tossed four bags of cash to Sal.

“I’m impressed. I don’t believe it. After all that you still got the money!” said a shocked Sal.

“Well done kid,” said Michael.

“C’mon we got to ditch this car,” said Sal.

“That’s a good idea, but where? We’re in an abandoned subway line,” said Anthony.

“I know a way out. There’s an old intersecting tunnel that leads out to the wash. From there we can drive the car through the wash to the old salvage yard. There’s a car crusher we can use to get rid of the car.” Michael hit the ignition switch and the car began to sputter, then stalled. Again he turned the ignition switch but still nothing; only after pulling the choke lever did he get the engine running.

“Yes!” Jackie exclaimed happily.

The car sped quietly through tunnel as a thousand thoughts raced through Michael’s mind. “Isn’t it interesting how those two thugs knew that we were coming to steal the collection?” asked Michael.

“I’d like to know who planted that time bomb in the truck. Another second less and I would have been dead,” said Jackie.