60. Puppet Master
The driver pulls the car to a stop in front of a dilapidated house. I wrinkle my nose in distaste, wondering how no one has torn such a shack down yet. Mental note: add gentrification to my next campaign platform. I refuse to live in a city with such…low class.
“Would you like me to go get her, sir?”
“No, it's a simple task; I will go take care of it.”
The stupid fake nanny never came for her final payment like she was supposed to. Part of me wanted to wash my hands of her, but I am nothing if not a man of my word, so I will make sure she gets what she's owed, as promised.
Getting out of the car, I casually walk up the gravel drive, the stupid little pebbles announcing my otherwise quiet arrival. No matter, I have nothing to hide.
Stepping onto the rotting porch, hoping it holds my weight, I knock firmly on the door, only to have it open under the force of my fist as it wasn’t closed properly.
Pursing my lips, I decide to take the open invitation, reaching into my inside coat pocket for my gun.
Carefully, I step into the house. Immediately, the smell of mildew hits my nose, making me blanch.
How anyone could live in such squalor… Such a shame. She was good at deception. If she didn’t know too much, she could have made a killing as a spy. What a waste. Though, if this is how she chooses to live, I am doing her a favor by taking her out…
Eyeing the dim front room, I note the overturned coffee table, food and cutlery littering the floor, as if she was going to have dinner—I can’t believe people could eat in this place and not get sick—but got interrupted…
Standing still, my senses alert, I listen for something beyond the ambient sounds of a house and my own breathing. Nothing. Not a single thing can be heard.
Looking back at the door, I study the frame, noting that the latch is broken, and the door is sitting a bit crookedly. Not terribly, but now that I’m aware, I can see it. No wonder it opened so easily…it was already broken.
Striding across the small front room, I head into the tiny kitchen first, then check the bathroom—which isn’t anything more than a shower stall and a toilet—then finally, the bedroom.
Nothing…not a single fucking thing.
Pulling my phone out as I stand in front of the bare mattress that's passing as a bed, I bring up the last number dialed and put it to my ear.
“What can I help you with, sir?”
“Where is she?” I growl.
“Who?”
“The fucking bitch I’m supposed to kill! I’m at her house, and she’s not! Explain that to me, why don’t you.”
“I…I don’t know what to tell you, sir. She’s there. She is. I saw her go in. As I told you about an hour ago.”
“Where are you?” I ask in a dangerously steady tone.
I hear him suck in a breath.
“Where. Are. You.”
“I…I’m at home, sir.”
“You left your post?” I hiss.
“You were on your way. I set up the camera. She follows a routine! Not only that, she knew you were coming. No way would she have missed her ‘pay day’ for anything. She was counting on that final payment so she could skip town.”
“Do you have access to the camera you set up?” I ask, trying not to lose my very thin patience.
“Of course, sir. Give me a minute.” It doesn’t take long before he says, “Shit.”
“What?”
“Uh…I’m very sorry, sir, but it looks like someone took her.”
“What do you mean, someone took her?” I bark into the phone.
“About twenty-five minutes ago, so maybe ten minutes after I left, someone walked into her home, and came out with her slung over their shoulder.”
“Can you tell who it was?”
He hesitates. “It’s not clear, but… Antonio Martelli is very recognizable, even on grainy camera footage.”
The sound of my phone hitting the bedroom wall isn’t as satisfying as I would like.
Rage, dark and curling, washes over me, and if there were any other sounds around, the ringing in my ears would drown them all out.
How. Fucking. Dare. They.
It was one thing to take my worthless daughter from me, but this? This messes with too many plans. So thirsty for their revenge, they dared step onto my territory and take away what was rightfully mine? Never again. This is the last move they dare to make against me.
Never again will the Amatos or Martellis make a move in this city as if they own it. They don’t, they never have.
The time for hiding in the shadows is over. They’re going to wish they never took what wasn’t theirs.
I’ve been putting off the last part of my plan, but now? They’re going to feel every inch of my wrath, and know they’ve been outmatched this entire time. Playing with children is only fun up to a certain point, but now, I’m bored…
The new regime they’re trying to create was never going to work, and the sooner they realize that, the better. Starting with the cannon fodder they left right out in the open for me to take…
Tonight might have been a disappointment, but I still have a reason to smile as I pick up the pieces of my shattered phone and leave the house, not bothering to close the broken door behind me.
I might have lost some pawns, but the ultimate prize is still very much within reach. I can feel the walls closing in, but I’m not afraid. No, I was born for this, and have survived more than those weak sellouts will ever know.
Calmly, I slide into the backseat of my car. The driver pulls away from the curb, and I swallow down my rage, a sense of calm filling me as I acknowledge that soon, all of this pain and suffering will be worth it. It’s only a matter of time before I make my final move. And then…
Game. Over.
To be continued…