I staggered backward, overturning the chair in slow motion as I fumbled for the holster under my arm. My mouth opened in a noiseless roar as I raised the Mean Ol’ Broad at the towering specter that filled the entire room. Green lightning flashed from the muzzle as I squeezed off. The stiff shuddered as the slugs struck, toppling backward in a limp display of wildly flailing limbs. I flipped the table over, somehow catching the absinthe bottle before it struck the floor. My chest heaved as I peered over the table edge, but the giant corpse lay still.
“Mick?”
I turned, sweeping the Broad at the glowing figure that hovered in the doorway. The fairy wore Natasha’s face and spoke with her voice. A hulking brute followed her, some misshapen ogre who scanned the room with a feral expression.
“Stay back–or you’ll get the same as your pal here. I mean it.” My finger twitched on the trigger.
The fairy flooded the room with light as she approached, her hand cautiously extended. “Mick, it’s me. Natasha. Natasha and Benny. You remember us, don’t you? Mick?”
I squeezed my eyes shut with a groan. When I opened them, Natasha and Benny stood in front of me with concerned looks on their faces. The bullet-riddled corpse lay a few yards away, once again just a normal stiff. I scrubbed my face with my hand.
“Absinthe. Damn the stuff.”
Benny slowly slid his handgun back in his jacket holster. “What the hell, Mick? We heard you shout and then the gunfire started...”
“–and your first thought was to bring Natasha into the line of fire?” I shakily stood, still trying to get my bearings. “Smooth move, Ace.”
Benny’s expression darkened. “She jumped outta the ride before I could grab her, Mick. Look, I ain’t in the habit of watching dames. You want her in diapers, you better call a babysitter.”
“I don’t need you to look out for me, Mick.” Natasha’s face was set in that defiant expression dames get when they want to make their point. “Excuse me for being concerned about you.”
“That’s the point–you don’t need to be concerned about me.” My voice boomed in the near-empty house. “This is what I do, sweetheart. This is my job. And I can’t do it with your getaway sticks running in the direction of the gunfire, got it?”
Natasha flinched at my tone, but to her credit she didn’t crumple. “You’re the one who got me in this mess in the first place, Mick.” She placed her fists on her hips and let me have it. “You told me to come with you, remember? I could be at my apartment minding my own business.”
I threw up my arms. “That’s because you aren’t safe anywhere else. I don’t like it any more than you do. But you gotta do what I say or you’ll end up getting shredded by a stray slug before the day is out. Pipe that?”
“Look, I hate to interrupt a lover’s spat and all but…” Benny took an uneasy glance around the room. “Who the hell were you shooting at, Mick? This bum’s been dead for days.”
Natasha eyes near bulged out of her face as she did a quick two-step away from the stiff. “That’s what the smell is? Who...who was he?”
“Hell if I know.” I gestured around. “This whole deal is gonzo. Look, I’m a bit outa sorts right now. Blame it on the booze. Stuff’s laced with nanomachines that reboot my healing system, only with hallucinogenic side effects. Not to mention a trip down memory lane with my old self downloaded into a synoid body. He’s not physically here, of course. He tricked out the stiff there with a microphone and camera ‘cause he’s scared stiff of my ex-girlfriend.”
“Uh…ok. Sorry we asked.” Benny glanced at me from the corner of his eyes. “You feeling all right? You look different for some reason.”
“Better, actually.” Natasha stepped closer and peered into my face. “You look like you got a good night’s sleep. And a decent meal.”
“I’m aces. Feeling great.” All the soreness had vanished from my muscles and I was sure if I lifted my shirt I’d see the recent gunshot wounds had faded as if months old. It was almost worth the acid trip into temporary insanity.
“So can we get the hell outta here, then? My uncle just buzzed again. Says you gotta come in.”
“I told you I’m not one of his soldatis, Benny. I’m doing important work here.”
“Important work like downing some booze and squeezing off on a mook who’s already dead?
“Touché. What’s Flacco got his panties all in a bunch over, anyhow?”
Benny winced at my disrespect. “Says he found something you’d like to see.”
“Yeah? What is it?”
“A Secret Service agent.”
Chapter 14: The Easy Way Out
Moe Flacco was holed up in a ratty little warehouse not too far from Hunter’s place. The Docks were a regular stomping ground for Mafia executions, so just about every self-respecting Capo owned some real estate out there. We pulled up to a district nicknamed Grindhouse Alley on account of all the Mob interrogations that took place in its number of grimy, rusted out warehouses conveniently constructed right at the edge of the West River. Once the wetwork was done it was no problem to chuck the remains in stinking, black waters of the West.
No-Nose Nate admitted us inside one of Flacco’s grisly estates. His candy apple red pinstriped suit was tempered only by the black shirt and Trilby hat that sat cocked on his narrow head. He greeted me with a smirk. “Mick. Word on the streets is you’d been zotzed.”
“I was. But I got over it.”
He snorted, turning his attention to Benny. “Still alive, kid? I thought you might be pushing daisies by now. Either that or drooling in your sleep somewhere.”
Benny’s face turned crimson. “I’m on the job, Nicky.”
“That’s good, kid. C’mon, your uncle’s already hot about you keeping him waiting.”
The warehouse was mostly empty and mostly dark. Only the central line of overhead lights were on, highlighting Moe’s crew of soldatis lounging on stacked crates and barrels of lye or against the chrome bumpers of the gleaming wheelers pulled inside. Moe was decked out in a charcoal tweed overcoat over his three-piece and Bogart to match. He chatted amiably with Electra, who was dressed in a slinking black lace-grilled gown and gloves as though out to a swanky nightclub. Her scarlet bob was encircled by a bejeweled fascinator that winked in the dim light. She laughed behind her hand as if Moe had just told her a whopper of a joke.
You would’ve thought it just another night out if it weren’t for the locale, or the blood-spattered mess that sat in the center of it all. Mafia interrogations are never pretty sights, and that one was no exception. The unlucky recipient had been stripped to his boxers and sat on a stool with his feet and hands duct taped. Not only was he covered in bruises, cuts and contusions, but his face had been beaten so badly it was unrecognizable.
Moe Flacco greeted his nephew with a smile and outstretched arms. “Benny, you goomba. Why didn’t you check in like I asked? Had me worried about you. What would I tell my sister if I lost her firstborn, eh?”
Benny dipped his head respectfully. “Zio. My apologies. I was busy watching Mr. Trubble’s back like you told me.”
“Look at the kid. One day with the Troubleshooter and he’s talking like a man grown.” Flacco gave Benny’s face an affectionate pat before turning to me. “Thank you for letting my nephew tag along, Mick. I hope he hasn’t caused you too much trouble.”
“Not at all. Like the kid said, he’s the one who’s been watching my back.”
That seemed to please the old mobster. Rubbing his hands, he nodded the direction of his crew. “These are some of my boys: James and Henry. The short one is Tommy. I’ve been doing a little investigation of my own. Anytime you get hit you have to do a little house cleaning. And when you clean up, you start with the inside. So I checked on everyone that personally works for me. You know–tightened the screws on some of the new help.” He jerked a thumb at the misfortunate meat wad in the chair. “Turns out one of my drivers wasn’t who we thought he was. Recognize him?”
; “How can I? He looks like he’s been tossed in a meat grinder.”
“No kidding. Point is, he says he knows you. Told us a lot of things. He’s been singing like a bird every since we convinced him to cooperate. His name’s Nelson. Or at least that’s the name we’ve known him as. I’m sure it’s a cover. He’s Secret Service, after all.”
I lit a gasper and sucked nicotine. “He’s not Service.”
“You saying he’s lying?” Moe nodded to Tommy, who seized Nelson by his hair and yanked his head up.
The unlucky stooge managed to open the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut. He licked his bloody, puffy lips. “Water.”
Moe’s eyes were so cold they glinted. “You hear that? The man is thirsty. Electra, why don’t you give him a drink?”
“No problem.” She picked up a two-gallon can of gasoline by her feet. Tommy forced Nelson’s mouth open and shoved a corroded funnel down his throat. Despite gagging on rusty metal, Nelson only had eyes for Electra as she approached. She smiled as he frantically shook his head and made muffled sounds of panic.
“Aw–looks like he’s not so thirsty after all.” Electra pursed her lips in a pouty manner and lowered the gas can.
I exhaled a cloud of smoke. “I’m saying he’s no agent. He might work for the Service, but he’s outsourced. A contractor. Just a bottom scraper trying to get ahead.”
“How do you know?”
I glanced at Nelson. His small, tubby frame was drenched in sweat. The distinct stink of urine wafted from his vicinity, verifying the dark stain on the front of his boxers.
“If he were an agent, you’d never have broken him like this.”
Moe gestured. Tommy yanked the funnel out of Nelson’s mouth, grimacing at the layer of bloody phlegm that coated the stem. Nelson erupted in a coughing fit and would have fallen off the stool if not for James’ hand on the back of his neck.
Moe casually stepped up and backhanded Nelson across the face with a sound like a meat tenderizer slamming into a thick wad of ground beef.
I felt my hands tighten into fists. It took a mental reminder to keep me from saying anything stupid. I remembered Nelson was allied with the same people who had no problem slicing up innocent women. When it came to organizations with a history of dirty deeds, I had already chosen sides with the lesser of two evils.
Nelson lolled back, tilting on the edge of consciousness. The second time Moe slapped him it was almost gentle. “You know this man, Nelson?” He pointed my direction. “You told us you did. Don’t wanna flip on that story now, do you?”
Nelson gazed at me with a glazed expression for a long moment before recognition finally dawned in his eye. “I told you. I don’t know him…personally. I just know…of him.”
“And who is he?”
“Spook. Shadow. Liquidator.” Nelson licked his lips. “That’s what they…called him. A Liquidator. Secret Service is the…trigger. He’s the bullet.”
The air in the warehouse thickened with tension. Hands strayed toward concealed weapons as the trouble boys reassessed me with apprehensive glances and uneasy mutters. Flacco cut them off with a gesture. He leaned in closer to Nelson.
“Continue.”
Sweat slid down Nelson’s defeated face. “He’s top-ranked. Above…my pay grade. I’m just…an observer. They pay me to watch and…report.” His voice lowered to a mumble. “I’m just an observer. I provide intel, that’s all. Just an observer…”
“You’re a mole.” Moe seized Nelson by the jaw. “Just a low-down, dirty little rat. How many of you vermin are there? How many, you sonovabitch?”
Nelson winced. “Hundreds. We were stationed…all around New Haven. Service can only manage to smuggle in a couple of agents at a time, who recruit volunteers from the inside.” His good eye swiveled my direction. The expression of dread intensified, as though my presence was more terrifying than his current predicament. “He was one of them. He was the key to everything. Most of us were recruited by an agent named Frankie Newman. We were stationed in all parts of the Haven, ready to seize control of its most vulnerable assets when the time came…” Nelson’s eyelids drooped as he tilted on his precarious perch.
Moe snapped his fingers under Nelson’s nose. “What time? What the hell was supposed to happen?”
Nelson gave a dizzy shake of his head. “The end. The Liquidator was supposed to help Frankie access the Command Hub. Open up a way for the Service to enter the Haven in force. It was all set up. Only the Liquidator didn’t follow the directives. Word is he turned on Newman and took him out. Everything fell apart. Everybody’s spooked. No one is in charge anymore. The rest of the observers have gone to ground.” His head dropped. “It didn’t help. We’re being picked off, one by one.”
“Hold on.” Until then I had silently observed, but I took a step closer. “You saying all the moles are being rooted out? By who?”
“Don’t know.” Nelson flinched when he met my gaze. “Thought it was you.”
More mutters rippled through Moe’s crew. They weren’t as cool as when I first entered the warehouse. The whole lot of them looked at me as if I’d just grown horns and breathed fire while twirling a pitchfork. Even Electra eyed me as if she saw a new person, although her look was more appraising than nervous.
I stepped closer, allowing the reputation of my former self to quell Nelson even further. “Tell us about Natalie. Don’t skip any details, or what you’ve been through will be a cool dip in the pool compared to what I’ll do.”
Nelson’s lips quivered. “Look, all I know is she’s supposed to bring you in. What you did, how you defied the SS–it’s never been done before. The talk is already spreading. They’re desperate to contain the situation. You’re a dead man, you know that? You can’t just walk away from these guys.”
I gave him my best mirthless grin. “Let me be the judge of that. You just tell me what I wanna know. Natalie–where is she? Who’s she working with? How many of them are there?”
Nelson cringed and practically blubbered when I leaned over him. “It’s a standard five-man crew. Everyone recruited from the inside except the agent. A techie, a sniper, and some muscle. I don’t know where they are, I swear. I’m just an observer. Just an observer…”
“Yeah, you keep saying that.” I squinted at him as I took a last drag of my gasper.
Moe gave me a calculating glance. “I heard some chatter about what went down at Beck’s mansion a while back. Heard the place blew up. Same night something weird went down in the Beehive. Command tried to cover it up, but people talk. Something about an attempted takeover. That’s what this gink is gabbing about?”
“Yeah. I kinda stumbled into that gonzo plan to shut the Haven down.”
“And you stopped it?”
“Yeah. I stopped it.”
Moe’s face was unreadable. “You’ve proved to be an enigma so far, but now everything I’ve heard about you is starting to come together. So you’re a deserter from the Secret Service. I don’t know if that makes you the most dangerous man I’ve ever met, or the biggest target I’ve ever seen.”
I shrugged. “Trying to figure it out myself.”
His eyes grew hard. “So then. Sophia’s murder–that wasn’t aimed at me at all. It was aimed at you.”
“Yeah. The killer’s name is Natalie, my old partner from the Service. Seems she used killing my lovers as a way of controlling me in the past. I never meant to get Sophia involved in this. I’m sorry, Flacco.”
He sighed and shook his head. “I told you before–I don’t blame you for her death. I blame the person who did the killing. This… Natalie. I want her dead.” His jaw tightened. “I want blood for blood. Her and anyone else involved.”
“You might not want this, Flacco. You tangle with the Service, you lose.”
“Maybe that’s true outside of New Haven. Not inside. This is my city, Mick. And Sophia was my blood. I’m not afraid of taking on those Service thugs. I’d like to think you feel the same.”
“Yo
u’d be right. Sophia wasn’t the only one killed on account of this grudge match. I’m not out ‘till it’s finished. I owe a lot to the SS right now, and I’m gonna pay them back with interest.”
Moe nodded. “I’ll be working things out on my end. You follow whatever leads you got. We’ll stay in touch. Just remember: when it goes down, I wanna be there for the fall. I want my pound of flesh for Sophia.”
“I understand. What I’ll do is–”
“Hey Moe.” No-Nose Nate approached, dragging a very frightened and familiar figure with him. “Looky what I got. Caught her snooping around the door.”
I tilted my Bogart back and sighed. “Let her go, Nate. She’s with me.”
“You got time to skate on the job?” Nate grinned. “Not that I blame you. A piece of ass like this is hard to find.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re talking about a lady, Nate. Get that through your head, or I’ll put something else through it.”
Nate’s smile slipped. His face reddened as he caught the amused glances of the crew. He opened his mouth for a retort, but fortunately was spared the embarrassment when Moe cut him off with a wave of his hand.
“A friend of Mick’s is a friend of ours.” Removing his Bogart, he took Natasha’s hand and kissed it. “I apologize for your rough treatment. Merely a precaution.”
I stepped closer to Natasha. “I told you we’d be right back. You should have stayed with Maxine.”
Natasha looked at the collective crew of Borgata. “I just wanted to see what was taking you–” Her hand drifted to her mouth when she noticed Nelson in all of his unspectacular glory. “Oh.”
The Troubleshooter: The Most Dangerous Dame Page 15
