The Rampage of Ryan O'Hara

by James R. Pera

  Ryan followed Vitanza, who walked about a block before entering a beat-up, black Cadillac. He took note of the plate and then made his way back to his own car.

  He was able to find a parking place up the street from Finnegan’s bar and watched the foot traffic in and out of the place. He went back inside at about eight o’clock and, just as he’d suspected, the place was almost empty.

  “You’re back. I was wondering where you went,” Finnegan said.

  “I got hungry so I went out for a bite to eat. Thought I’d come back and talk to some of the guys about jobs, but I see they’re all gone. Maybe tomorrow,” Ryan replied.

  “Yeah, same time, same station. You can set your watch by the time they come in, but the place gets a little dull right about now. I stay open but sometimes I wonder why. I’ll probably close up a little early tonight if it doesn’t pick up.”

  Ryan finished his drink. “Well, I guess I’ll call it a night myself and head over to Sis’s house. She should be home by now,” he said as he got up from the stool and left the bar. He figured he’d give it another night, maybe two, before he made his move. He wanted to make sure he was familiar with the habits of not only Finnegan but also his customers.

  CHAPTER

  28

  Louie Vitanza was back at Ramallah Liquors dividing up the cash with Ghannam and Maloof within a half hour of leaving Finnegan’s pub. He counted out $4,660 for the two Arabs and kept $2,340 for himself. “There yous go. Easy money. Nuttin’ to it,” he said.

  Maloof looked over at Ghannam. “Does this infidel think he take same cut as us? We do work, we get more. You tell him, cousin.”

  Ghannam waited for Vitanza to react.

  The Italian’s face started to twitch. “Look heres, Habib, I’s gots da job for yous and yous wouldn’t even have da forty-six hundred if it wasn’t for me, so’s take it or leave it. It’s no sweat offa me. I’s can always find someone else ta do da job.”

  The two Arabs stared at Vitanza.

  “You keep five hundred dollar and give us rest,” Ghannam said.

  “Yous fuckin’ crazy. I’s outta here. I’s should has known betta than ta try ta do business wid yous guys. Dealing wid yous unfair fencing practices is bad enough, but dis is even more than I’s can take. Fogettabout da deal. It’s ova with,” Vitanza yelled as he began to scrape the money off the table.

  Louie Vitanza screamed as Maloof plunged a knife through his hand, laughing as he pinned it to the table. “Now we take it all, infidel,” he said. Ghannam reached over, pulled the knife out, and held it to Vitanza’s throat. Maloof scooped the bills into a bag and placed it on a shelf behind him.

  “Now what we do with you?” Ghannam asked as he smirked at Vitanza. “I tell you what. We get extra three thousand dollar and we give you a thousand. You go see friend and tell him we do job when we get whole ten thousand, okay?”

  Vitanza got up and held onto his hand, grimacing in pain. “What if he’s won’t come up wid da extra cash?”

  “Then we keep money and he have no protection,” Maloof replied. “Now, you go get hand fix and bring money back and we go to work.”

  CHAPTER

  29

  What the fuck do you mean, they want another three thousand bucks, Louie? We settled on seven thousand yesterday and tonight you come back here with this extortion scheme! Fuck them. They’re bluffing. I paid them and they damn well better come through,” Finnegan yelled.

  “Does dis looks like dey’s bluffin’, Paddy? Does it?” Vitanza lifted his heavily bandaged hand to drive home his point. “Dey shoved a knife throughs my han’ jus’ for tryin’ ta take my fair share. Then dey threatens ta cuts me troat. No, dey ain’t bluffin’. Yous wants dem ta helps, den yous gotta pay da extra tree tousand.”

  “I want to meet them then. If I’m gonna shell out more dough, I want to meet them face-to-face and see just who it is that’s ripping me off,” Finnegan replied.

  “Okay, okay. I’lls see what I’s can do about gettin’ dem ova here ta meets wid yous,” Vitanza said, but stopped talking when he saw Ryan enter the pub.

  Finnegan went to the other end of the bar and greeted Ryan, who ordered a Guinness. Then he returned to Vitanza.

  “Who is dat cat, Paddy? I’s don’t recalls seein’ him in heah’s before. When he start comin’ aroun’?” Vitanza inquired in a whisper.

  “He’s just a guy passing through. He’s visiting his sister. Says he’s looking for work and might stay on if he finds some,” Finnegan explained.

  “Oh really, an’ yous don’t tink dat maybe he jus’ might be da guy yous goin ta all dis trouble for? What if he’s da cat dat’s comin’ to off ya? Ya don’t even knows him and you act like he’s just another guy from da neighborhood or somethin’.”

  “He’s all right. I asked him a few questions and he answered them the way he should. Besides, even if I had suspicions, what am I supposed to do, go up and ask him if he’s here to whack me?” Finnegan asked.

  “Yeah, wells maybe yous should.”

  “Enough of this bullshit, Louie. Go in the back room and call your Arabs. Give them directions and tell them to get over here so we can talk. I don’t want to waste any more of my time wondering if my ass is going to be covered or not and I’m sure as hell not going to shell out any more money without meeting these clowns.”

  Vitanza went into the back room and called Ghannam. After briefly rejecting the notion of meeting Finnegan, he agreed to come over with Maloof for a sit-down.

  “Dey’s comin’ ova in about half an hour,” Vitanza said as he took his seat back at the bar.

  “Good. Maybe then we can get this show on the road and move forward,” Finnegan replied.

  “Yeah, and when deys come, I’s gonna tell dem ta take special note of yous new friend down dere at the otha end. He’s da only stranger I seen around dis joint in a long time and yous better watch him too,” Vitanza said.

  “Sure, anything you say, genius,” thought Finnegan, who was wondering if he’d have been better off watching his own back than hiring a bunch of slime suckers to do it for him.

  Ghannam and Maloof entered the bar about an hour after Vitanza’s phone call.

  Vitanza motioned with his head and the two men came down to end of the bar to talk.

  Ryan watched and thought, “One greasy little dago and two camel jockeys.” He could spot a Middle Easterner a mile away, even when they were trying to pass themselves off as Latinos or some other ethnic group. It was just something about their mannerisms, maybe the arrogance they couldn’t help displaying even when they were trying to be polite. Something was up, but what? he wondered. “This place is beginning to stink a bit,” he thought as the two Arabs disappeared into the back room with Finnegan.

  Vitanza watched the bar until they returned. Then the three of them sat together and ordered a round of drinks. They continued to talk. Every so often, they’d glance over at Ryan, who wondered if he was the topic of their conversation.

  Ryan got up to leave and made a special point of saying good-bye to Finnegan. He wanted to see if his suspicion that the three men had an interest in him was just his imagination or if it had merit. It didn’t take him long to find out.

  About half a block from the bar, he heard footsteps coming up behind him.

  Rounding the corner into an alley, he took out his magnum and slid into a doorway. He hadn’t been a moment too soon—in an instant, the two Arabs appeared. Ryan stepped out of the doorway and into the path of his stalkers before they had time to react. “Do you goat-herders want something from me?” he asked in a subdued voice.

  Ghannam looked at Maloof. If they had any intentions of making a move, it didn’t survive the split second that it took for them to acknowledge the blue steel pointing at them. “We just goin’ to get our car, friend,” said Maloof.

  “So your car’s in this alley? Why, it must be invisible, because I don’t see any car,” Ryan replied sarcastically.

  The Arabs were at a loss for
words.

  “If you have any weapons on you, dump them now, because if I find them I’m gonna make you eat them,” Ryan instructed.

  Ghannam reached into his jacket and produced a small snub-nosed revolver, which he placed on the ground. Maloof followed suit by throwing down a switchblade.

  Keeping his eyes on the two men and motioning for them to back away, Ryan reached into his pocket and retrieved a pair of gloves, which he put on. He picked up the weapons and put them in the pocket of his coat. “Let’s take a walk back to Finnegan’s, fellas. I think we should all have a nightcap and get better acquainted, don’t you?” He snickered.

  “We got no quarrel with you, friend. We just go now, okay?” Ghannam protested.

  “No, you don’t just go now, friend. You will accompany me back to the bar. We will talk to your friends and try to sort this thing out, and maybe find out if they had anything to do with you intruding upon my evening. Now move your fucking jihadist butts out before I give you each an extra asshole,” ordered Ryan.

  Finnegan and Vitanza looked surprised when Ryan and the two Arabs reentered the bar. They were even more surprised when Ryan locked the door behind him and told them that he’d caught Ghannam and Maloof tailing him.

  “Your friends were following me down the street and I thought I’d come back here and ask you two if you know anything about it,” Ryan said as he pulled his gun from beneath his coat.

  The expression on Finnegan’s face changed from one of concern to one of fear as he glanced over at Vitanza and then back to Ryan. Ghannam and Maloof stood speechless.

  Ryan motioned to Finnegan and Vitanza. “Paddy, come out from behind the bar and stand over here with these two scumbags. You too, wop. I want you all over here where I can see you while we have a nice, friendly little talk to get to the bottom of why you sent these two out to follow me.”

  Ryan watched the men and smiled. Looking over at Vitanza, he said, “You know, greaseball, I had you pegged from the minute you walked in here yesterday. You couldn’t keep your fucking eyes off me as you sat down at the other end of the bar whispering to your friend Finnegan. And it just got more pronounced when these two subhuman desert-dwellers arrived tonight. So which one of you wants to be first to tell me what this is all about?” Ryan asked.

  “Why don’t you tell us what it’s all about? You’re the one who’s waiving the gun around and making innuendos,” Finnegan said, trying to feign calmness.

  “Okay, Paddy, that’s a reasonable request. Let’s just say that I’m a teacher and I’m here to give you a class on history and current events,” Ryan replied.

  “I’s don’ts get it. What’s current events has ta do wid us?” asked Vitanza.

  “Yeah, what to do with us, friend? We don’t know you or what you want with us,” Ghannam added.

  “Well, you’re right. This shouldn’t have concerned you and it never would have if you hadn’t decided to get involved, which you obviously have. So now you’re in it up to your asses and I’m going to have to decide how to include you in my plan,” Ryan answered.

  “What plan?” asked Finnegan.

  “Come on, man. Don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out. I’ve been watching the action around here for the past couple of days. These goons you hired are so amateurish that a six-year-old could figure out that you were worried about something and hired them to watch out for you. Too bad for you that you hired such idiots. They telegraphed everything. Didn’t even have enough sense to bide their time and watch me from a distance for a while. Had to shoot their wad all at once and blow your whole deal,” Ryan said.

  “I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” Finnegan lied.

  “Yes, you do. But I’ll pretend you don’t and go through the motions of giving you a hint. Turn around and look at your wall and maybe we can start our history lesson on the same page,” Ryan said with a sneer.

  A dose of adrenaline shot through Finnegan as the blood drained from his face. If there had been even the slightest doubt about the man in his bar pointing the gun at him, it was gone now.

  “Well, turn around, Mr. Cop-crippler. Look at the newspapers you have decorated your dive with. You’re a big hero to the scumbags of the left. Be proud. I want you to join in my celebration of your life and enjoy the gifts I’m about to bestow upon you. It’s just too bad you’re going to have to share my offerings with your friends,” Ryan said.

  Finnegan looked terrified. “So you’re the one.”

  “Yes.”

  “You come for Finnegan?” Maloof asked. “You come kill Finnegan? Why you don’t let us go? We don’t have nothin’ do with him.”

  “Yeah, nothing,” Ghannam piped in.

  “Cut the crap, Osama. You fuckin’ A well do have something to do with it. You were trailing me like a couple of hyenas on a scavenger hunt when I caught you in the alley and this asshole put you up to it. How much did he pay you? I hope it was worth your life, because that’s probably what it’s gonna wind up costing you. Unless you can give me one good reason not to off your asses right here and now.”

  “Good reason? I don’t know what you talk about. I do anything you say. What you want? Just tell me. I do,” pleaded Ghannam.

  “I don’t know what I want from you, Osama. Let me think on it a while. Maybe I’ll come up with something,” Ryan replied as he shifted his gaze over to Vitanza. “So, how do you fit in to all this, greaseball? I’ve been watching your slimy little ass for the past couple of days and tonight you show up with these sand fleas. You on Finnegan’s payroll? If so, why? Don’t lie to me.”

  Vitanza didn’t even try to make excuses. With all the tough talk and braggadocio about his connections to the mob, he came apart and spilled his guts without any further prompting.

  “Finnegan hired me to get someone ta puts a tail on him ’cause he tinks someone’s out ta get him. He tolds me dat some a his frens got bumped off and he tinks it comes from when dey was all in da radical movement backs in da sixties. All I’s did was get deez two guys and dey was gonna deal wid anyones dey saw followin’ him. Dats da truth, man. Dats all I’s got ta do wid dis. Honest. Ya gotta believes me, man. Come on, I’s got no bone ta picks wid you. I don’t even knows you.”

  Ryan smiled. “And there you have it, kiddies, the current events part of the class. You are all about to become part of it. You’re all here because of Finnegan, his past, and his fear of the inevitable, which is to say that he knows he’s about to be croaked. You got nothing against me. I know that. It’s just a business deal and your end of the bargain is to kill me. I get it. Nothing personal and all that crap, but now I’m your problem instead of your prey. So how are we going to solve this little problem? Got any suggestions, Paddy? Give me some reasons why your pals here shouldn’t go down with you.”

  “I, uh… Can’t we make some kind of a deal? I mean, what’s your stake in my past, man? You were too young to have anything to do with what was going on in those days. I don’t get it. Is it money you need? I’ll give you money. I…” Finnegan trailed off.

  “Yeah, we have money,” Maloof offered. “He give us three thousand. I got it in pocket.”

  Ryan shook his head. “This isn’t about money, but since you offered, you might as well put it on the pool table. I’d be glad to accept it. You probably won’t be needing it where you’re going, so I’ll make sure it’s put to good use.” Ryan smirked mockingly at his captives.

  Maloof put the money on the table as Ryan reached into his pocket and removed the switchblade he’d relieved him of earlier. “Tell you what I’m going do, boys. I’m going to introduce you to a little game I made up. It’s called Gladiator. The object of the game is survival. There are four of you here and you’re going to compete against one another to see who gets to live.”

  “What the…” started Finnegan.

  “Shut up, you pile of shit, and just listen,” Ryan interrupted. He switched his gaze to Maloof and said, “I want you to be first. Here, take the knife.” Ry
an tossed the switchblade to the Arab and then looked over at Vitanza. “You, greaseball, you grab a pool cue.”

  “What for?” Vitanza asked.

  “Just shut up and do it,” Ryan snapped.

  Vitanza grabbed a cue stick and looked at Ryan with a puzzled expression. “So wh…wh…wh…what now?” he stuttered.

  Ryan grinned. “Now we have a little war of attrition. You and the dung smoker are going to be gladiators and I’m going to be the emperor. One of you is going to kill the other and then I’m going to decide whether the one who survives gets to live. It’s simple, really. Kill or be killed and maybe be killed anyway, even if you win. But then if you don’t even try, I’ll just kill you outright, so what have you got to lose?”

  “You’re a sick son of bitch. This is demented. What kind of a mother gives birth to a monster like you?” Finnegan blurted out before thinking.

  “A mother who watched her family destroyed by the offspring of mothers who hatched chicken-shit terrorist bastards like you and your pals in Lenin’s Legion, who bombed, maimed, and murdered in the name of communism and then walked away without spending a day in lockup—that’s who, asshole,” Ryan replied.

  Vitanza began to plead, “I’s can’t fight, man. Look at me hand. It’s all fucked up. How’s I’s supposed ta grab da stick? He’s gonna kill me. Da odds is stacked against me.”

  Ryan nodded. “Yeah, I see your point.” Looking over at Ghannam, he said, “Hey, Osama, take off your belt.”

  “What for?” came the reply.

  “Because, stupid, I’m pointing gun at you and I’m telling you to, that’s why. Now do what I say,” barked Ryan.