5. Emilio
Silently, I trailed my target through the barely lit streets, careful not to alert him to my presence. He seemed convinced that he had successfully evaded me, and that was precisely what I wanted him to believe.
I followed him until he reached an old Chinese restaurant. The building had an air of faded grandeur about it, its exterior adorned with peeling paint and weathered wood.
The neon sign that once proudly displayed the restaurant”s name had flickering letters, barely lighting up the darkened street. A few Chinese characters were still visible, hinting at its former identity.
The atmosphere seemed somber, almost mysterious, giving me an eerie feeling. It was the kind of establishment that had witnessed decades of stories, its walls echoing whispers of secrets long kept.
I positioned myself behind a car parked across the street, providing me with a clear view of the entrance and enough distance to avoid detection. The street was nearly empty, the only sounds coming from the distant hum of traffic and the occasional rustle of leaves in the night breeze.
My curiosity was piqued as I huddled in the shadows, peering through the dim light. What business did the mafioso have here? Why this shabby Chinese place? Was it a rendezvous point? Or is it a front for their shady deals?
I decided against confronting him right away. By staying put and observing without tipping him off, I could gather additional intel. Waiting to see what this was all about could prove even more useful.
Mancini’s man knocked on a door, and after a few moments, it creaked open. The dim light made it hard to see details, but it revealed a person who appeared tall and well-built. Mancini thug stepped inside, and the door closed.
My mind raced, debating whether to venture closer for a better look. However, the fact that he had to knock and wait indicated this was more than a casual visit. It was prudent to tread carefully and not alert them to my presence.
As I contemplated my next move, I noticed a faint glow in one of the windows of the restaurant. Shadows danced, hinting at activity inside. My curiosity burned brighter.
Minutes felt like hours as I kept my watch on that door, anxiety building with each passing moment. The dim light from the windows flickered, casting eerie shadows on the deserted street.
I found myself caught in a whirlwind of thoughts, second-guessing my decision to tail the Mancini member. Should I have been more direct, confronting him right there on the street? But no, that could have easily turned into a messy situation.
Time dragged on, and my patience wore thin. Doubt started to creep in. Was there any point in waiting around like this? I couldn”t hear what was happening inside. Perhaps they were aware of my presence and were intentionally stalling, or maybe their meeting was taking longer than expected.
I glanced around, suddenly hyper-aware of my surroundings. Were there prying eyes observing me from the shadows? But the street remained empty, devoid of any obvious threat. If they had discovered me, then they would have made their move already.
I tried to shift my weight to get some circulation going in my stiff, hunched legs. Without invitation, my mind wandered to the woman I had left at the bar, Griselda. I couldn”t shake the image of her bewildered expression at my abrupt departure.
I wondered just how much she felt offended by my unexplained exit. Despite the urgency of the situation meriting my actions, a flicker of regret tugged at me for the way our interaction had been cut short.
Despite my typically guarded nature, I had found myself at ease with her, revealing more to her than I had intended. It was unusual for me to be so captivated by someone in such a short period.
For the first time in a long while, I had let my guard down, even mentioning that I was the CEO of Royalty Rentals. Of course, she hadn”t believed me. The irony of that thought made me chuckle.
I contemplated how she would react if she discovered that I hadn’t been lying. Would it shatter the image she had built of me? I smirked at the notion, envisioning the surprise on her face.
Griselda had an air of strength and independence. She also seemed like she wasn”t someone who was easily swayed. The idea of her finding out that I had been telling the truth intrigued me.
My surveillance of the old building persisted, but Griselda”s image refused to fade from my thoughts as a peculiar thought crossed my mind.
What if Griselda were to discover my true identity, that I was entangled with the very criminal world she might be fighting against in her capacity as a lawyer? Would she be horrified? Would she attempt to bring me to justice?
The absurdity of the idea couldn”t help but draw a wry smile from my lips.
Griselda”s fiery spirit, her tenacity, and, yes, her playfulness all intrigued me. It was as if a collision between our two worlds had formed an unexpected connection.
The notion of her trying to put me behind bars was almost hilarious. I couldn”t help but chuckle at the mental image of her passionately arguing her case in a courtroom, determined to see me behind bars.
But beneath the amusement lay a genuine curiosity about how Griselda would react. Would she confront me directly? Or would she choose a more calculated approach, digging deeper into my life to uncover the truth?
Her resourcefulness and intelligence were evident in the brief time we had spent together, leaving no doubt in my mind that she could be a formidable adversary if she put her mind to it.
The thought of our paths crossing in such a conflicting manner held a strange allure. I couldn”t deny that I was drawn to her.
I shook my head and refocused. I was here for a reason, but it seemed I should abandon my post and rethink my strategy. Standing up slowly from behind the parked car, I shook out my legs, relief flooding through my calves.
But just as I was about to retreat, the night erupted with panicked shouts and desperate pleas. Curiosity overtook my caution, and I quickly returned to my hiding spot, peering intently at the Chinese restaurant.
In the dim light that spilled onto the street, I could see Mancini’s man being dragged out of the restaurant, a man at each limb. Four of them, each gripping the struggling man with an iron grip.
What the fuck was going on? I shifted around the car so I could get a closer look.
The mafioso’s face contorted in fear and desperation. He was begging for his life, a torrent of words that were barely comprehensible in his panicked state.
A knot tightened in my stomach as I watched, torn between my goal and a moral dilemma. Should I stay hidden, let this unfold, gather intel, and use it to my advantage later? Should I intervene? The conflicting desires warred within me.
Fear painted the man”s face as he dangled helplessly, his limbs restrained by the iron grip of his assailants.
”Mi dispiace! (I’m sorry!)” he pleaded in Italian, his voice tinged with a genuine sense of terror. ”Mi dispiace! Non sapevo che sarebbe stato qui. Per favore, risparmiami la vita. Non abbasserò di nuovo la guardia. (I”m sorry! I didn”t know he would be here. Please spare my life. I won”t let my guard down again.)”
Their response was callous and ruthless. With a callous indifference that made my blood run cold, they let him drop to the ground. The impact echoed through the quiet area, a sickening thud that made me wince involuntarily. The man scrambled to his knees, still begging for mercy.
I couldn”t fathom the turn of events. Wasn”t he one of them? Why had he come here only to face what seemed like an execution?
He prostrated himself, forehead touching the ground.
The four menacing figures stared down at him, their faces hidden in the darkness. I still couldn’t see who they were.
Just then, the door of the Chinese restaurant creaked open, and a lone figure emerged. It didn”t take long for me to realize this man was different. His posture exuded power and authority. The way he moved, unhurried and confident, spoke of someone accustomed to being in control.
Questions ricocheted in my mind like stray bullets in the darkness. Who was this man, and what power did he hold within the Mancini organization? My gaze remained fixed on the unfolding drama.
The mafioso, now seemingly resigned to his fate, raised his head as the authoritative figure drew closer. The figure crouched, bringing himself to the same level as the trembling man. Their words were too muffled for me to comprehend, but the fear etched on the man”s face spoke volumes.
”Non sapevo davvero che sarebbe stato lì. Non è mai venuto al club prima (I really didn”t know he would be there. He has never come to the club before),” the man stammered, his words desperately seeking mercy. His trembling voice betrayed his terror.
Were they talking about me?
The figure lingered, listening to the man”s plea before straightening up and giving a silent signal to the four guards. As if puppets were responding to their master”s command, they moved, and my heart pounded at what happened next.
The man on the ground, driven by desperation, began crawling forward, hoping for mercy, but the guards, cold and merciless, showed no compassion.
One of them raised a gun and fired a bullet that tore through the man”s thigh. The wail of agony that escaped him pierced through the air, and I wondered if someone had heard from afar.
I winced.
The man fell, writhing in agony with blood pooling beneath him, staining the pavement a dark, gruesome shade.
A second shot shattered the air, and this time, it found its mark in the man”s head. His burly body is now still. His life was extinguished in an instant.
My stomach churned at the violence I had just witnessed. This was the reality of the criminal underworld, and this was why I wanted out.
I remained frozen in my hiding spot as the five men walked back into the building. The leader then paused and glanced around, making me duck lower behind the car. I stayed like that, not wanting to risk drawing attention. When the door closed behind them, I cautiously peered around the car.
The men were gone, but the lifeless body of the executed Mancini mafioso remained. Had they intended to leave him there?
Questions bounced around in my mind like a ceaseless storm. Was this an internal strife within the Mancini family, or was there another faction involved? Was the man I had followed a traitor? And if so, to whom - the Mancini family or this mysterious group?
Employing great caution, I left the scene and made my way back to where I had parked my car.
With the possibility that there was another gang involved with the Mancini family that we didn’t know about, it looked like things were about to become more serious than I had thought.