The Mafia Trilogy

by Jonas Saul

  Fucking idiots. What is wrong with people?

  “Are you still with me? I work for Yuri.”

  “Then why did you walk in here shooting?”

  “I didn’t. The man in the window shot at me first. Then I had to kill the bartender because he had a fucking shotgun. You would’ve done the same.”

  “Now what?”

  “Now I’m going to stand up, toss my gun to you and let you take me to Yuri. He’ll confirm my story. He’ll reward you for doing the right thing. It’s either that or I will have to kill you like I did the others.”

  He waited.

  “We haven’t much time,” Darwin said. “The cops will be along shortly and neither one of us want to be here when that happens.”

  “How do I know you’re not lying?”

  “I will throw you my weapon. Once you talk to Yuri, either you or he will kill me if I’m lying. Now, do we have an understanding? You won’t shoot until you talk to Yuri?”

  “Yeah, okay, but come up with hands empty.”

  “Okay, standing now.”

  Darwin threw the empty gun over the edge of the table and raised his hands. He lifted his head high enough to see over the edge. The Russian had stepped out from behind the pillar.

  “Stand up and step away from the table,” the Russian said.

  Darwin stood to his full height. People were talking louder outside. Someone said they had already called the cops and an ambulance.

  Darwin’s heart raced. At any second he could get a bullet in the face and it would all be over.

  “You can’t shoot me, because what would happen to you when Yuri finds out you all attacked me in his restaurant? If I’m wrong, you know I’m dead anyway.”

  “How come I’ve never seen you before?”

  “When was the last time you saw The Scythe?”

  “He’s dead. Everyone knows that.”

  “No, he’s not. But that’s another story.” Darwin swallowed involuntarily. “When someone sees The Scythe, what happens to them?”

  “They die. Execution.”

  Darwin stepped closer. “How many people do you know of that can claim to have met The Scythe and lived?”

  “None.”

  “That’s why you haven’t met me.”

  “Huh?”

  “If you had, you would be dead by now.”

  They were four feet apart now. The man held his gun in a two-handed stance aimed at him. Darwin had his hands up, about as high as his ears.

  “Do you have Yuri’s cell phone number?” Darwin asked.

  The man nodded.

  “Good. Call him. Tell him who I am and that I have information about the meeting in two days. He will be pissed that you guys shot at me, but happy that you were the smart one.”

  The Russian let go of his gun with one hand and without taking his eyes off Darwin, pulled a cell phone out. He reached out to hand it to Darwin.

  “You dial. I won’t take my eyes off you.”

  Darwin moved slowly and took the phone from him.

  “Number?”

  After typing it in, he smiled and nodded at the Russian.

  It rang twice and then Yuri answered in a gruff voice.

  “Hello, Yuri?”

  “Yeah, what is it?”

  Darwin waited a moment. He needed to choose his words right. Then he said, “This is The Blade and I’m coming for you.”

  He threw the phone toward the Russian’s face and at that same moment, ducked left as fast as he could. The Russian blinked and ducked, but fired his gun over and over.

  Darwin reached inside his hoodie and pulled out one of the brand new handheld scythes. Before the Russian could recover and aim his weapon properly, Darwin sliced down hard across the Russian’s wrists, cutting clean through. Both hands dropped to the floor, the gun still gripped in the right.

  He brought the scythe up and cut along the man’s neckline, slicing through to the spine. Blood squirted on Darwin’s face. He stepped back as the man’s eyes went wide, his mouth agape. Then his head dropped back and as his wrists spewed blood like a small fountain, he fell to the floor, convulsing as he died.

  Darwin cleaned the scythe on the Russian’s shirt and then pocketed the cell phone that had Yuri’s number in it and grabbed the Russian’s gun. He checked to see that each man was dead, pocketed two of their guns and stepped behind the bar.

  The bartender lay sprawled on the floor bleeding from his head. He breathed in pants and gasps and sweat had beaded up on his shocked face. It was a miracle he was still alive as a chunk of his skull was missing on the top left.

  He was dying. Darwin knew it and so did the bartender. No sirens were approaching yet and the bartender didn’t have long to go.

  “Shitty luck,” Darwin said. “I can help you along.” He showed him the scythe. “But I need to know why there was a fucking guy outside. How come I didn’t see him standing by the door?”

  “There’s always,” he said, then gulped air in. “There’s always a guy watching the door.”

  “Why didn’t I see him?”

  “Can’t make it—” his eyes closed.

  Darwin thought he lost him. Then his eyes popped open, and Darwin jumped back a bit.

  “Can’t make it obvious. Bad for business.”

  “Ahh, I’ll remember that.”

  Now emergency sirens roared in the distance.

  “Where’s Yuri?”

  “Will you?” the bartender asked and looked at the scythe, then back at Darwin.

  “Of course.”

  “He’s at the club.”

  “The club?”

  “His—” he paused and swallowed, “strip club.”

  “Misty’s Retreat?”

  It looked like the bartender nodded, but it was only a subtle head movement as the last breath escaped the bartender’s mouth. Darwin checked for a pulse but couldn’t find one.

  He slid the scythe inside the hoodie, which felt heavier with the added weight of the Russian’s guns, and moved away from the bar. He pulled one of the guns out, checked that the safety was off and slowly opened the kitchen door. If the waiter had been here, he was gone now.

  Probably bolted when the shooting started.

  The back door swung open in the breeze. Darwin ran for it and stopped in the doorframe. He edged around the corner, the weapon ready.

  With no one close or posing a threat, he jumped out and was lost in the shadows of the garbage bins in the back.

  It took him fifteen minutes to get a few blocks south, where he jumped on a city bus. He had used a van’s passenger mirror to wipe the blood from his face and hands, but he couldn’t do anything about the splatter marks that were crisscrossed on his hoodie. Downtown Toronto was littered with eccentric people. He only hoped he would fit in and not get too much attention.

  The bus would take him to within three blocks of the strip club. That worked perfect as it would give him a chance to approach on foot and scout out the area for the men watching the doors in less obvious places. He wouldn’t make that mistake again and he wouldn’t come in all nicey-nice again either.

  These people played dirty. They would gladly offer his head up on a platter and kill him for no other reason than the sport of it.

  He would address them on their terms from now on.

  He was energized, liberated and ready to kill as many as he could to remove the threat on his family.

  Darwin was hunting the Mafia.

  Now who’s fucked?

  Chapter 13

  Darwin approached the strip club from three different points and only saw two men that could be Yuri’s guys having a smoke by the back entrance to the club.

  Convinced that wasn’t all of them, he stayed behind a tree without moving for almost a half hour, collecting himself and getting ready for what he had to do. His knees ached and his joints stiffened in that time.

  How the hell do snipers do this?

  None of the cars in the parking lot appeared to have any o
ccupants watching the building.

  Maybe they only had two men standing by the back door. It would be quite obvious to the public and the authorities if more sentries were visibly posted around the building.

  Darwin guessed it to be at least midnight. He had no idea if Yuri was still inside the club or not, but he suspected as much with the two Russian goons loitering outside a few steps from the door.

  Unless they’re bouncers or the club’s regular security.

  He made sure he had a gun ready in each pocket, easy to grab and shoot. The scythes were inside his hoodie in their sheaths and ready to pull out fast. He just had to make sure he was careful when yanking them out so he didn’t cut himself across the chest or slice open the hoodie.

  He walked across the dark road between the streetlights. He made it halfway through the parking lot before the two large men in suits saw him. They studied him too long. Both men look they had the night off from pro football.

  Maybe they were informed that some guy shot up Yuri’s restaurant and to be extra vigilant with their detail tonight? Shit, I didn’t think of that.

  He kept walking.

  Can’t turn around now.

  In unison, the suited men moved toward the door to flank each side of it.

  Darwin nodded at them as he drew nearer.

  Try to stop me at your own peril, assholes.

  “Hey, pull the hood back. No one gets inside without seeing the face.”

  Each man flanked the door now. Darwin halted.

  “I don’t want my wife or any of my friends to see me going inside,” Darwin said in a deep voice. “I come here looking for discretion. You understand, yes?”

  “There’s no one out here. Look around. Hood off or no entry.”

  “Funny, you sound like a pimp.”

  One of the men stepped closer. “What did you say?”

  Darwin released the two guns and pulled his empty hands out of his pockets. He raised them up to show he posed no threat, then reached inside his hoodie.

  Poor bastards.

  His hands wrapped around the handles of the scythes.

  He yanked them out and sliced across the closest man’s chest in one fluid motion. A quick step to the left and another swipe dropped the second man.

  He wiped the blades on his own hoodie and stepped back to assess if either man would remain a threat as they crawled away, wounded.

  They didn’t.

  Both men were cut deep, bleeding from chest wounds, grunting and edging away from him. One fumbled with a cell phone. Darwin stepped up to him and kicked the cell out of his hand. It clattered away, bouncing off the cement parking lot.

  Won’t the police have a mess to clean up when I’m done with the Mafia? Resurrecting The Scythe’s career as a Mafia man gone awry might just work after all.

  He was calmer after attacking the two bouncers. Violence was getting easier and that scared him a little. He never wanted it this way and would give anything to go back in time. The Mafia created him from their hatred and it was his turn to hit back and hit back hard.

  Darwin replaced the scythes in his hoodie and walked inside the club. The music was so loud, it could rattle the Richter scale.

  At any second, someone would come along and discover the men at the back door. Darwin wasn’t strong enough to haul both of them away in time. All he could do was get inside the club, find Yuri and get Rosina’s location before he killed him and then leave before the authorities showed up.

  He ran through the back, turned toward the front and almost bumped into two more large Russians in Hugo Boss suits.

  Fuck, do these guys have money.

  “Are all you guys built at the same factory?” he asked. “How come you’re all so big?”

  He reached in to grab a blade, but the Russian looked down at the fresh blood on the front of Darwin’s hoodie and lashed out to grab Darwin’s right arm, stopping him mid-reach. They locked eyes. Darwin grabbed the gun on his left, leveled it at the Russian and fired from one foot away, three times in quick succession.

  Three holes formed on the front of the man’s dress shirt. Dark red blood seeped out. He looked down and then back up at Darwin, a scowl on his face. He hadn’t let go of Darwin’s arm yet. His grip tightened.

  Darwin raised the weapon, aimed carefully, and fired. A hole formed under the Russian’s chin where the middle of his tongue would be. A small spray of liquid shot out of the top of the Russian’s head. His facial expression changed to a more subtle one of surprise. He tried to look at the man beside him for help, but his legs gave out and he dropped hard enough to shake the floor over the vibration of the music.

  Darwin turned the gun to the other man who had watched everything in stunned immobility. He had stepped back at least two feet and now turned to run.

  Darwin let him go, pocketed the gun, and moved through the alcove into the main part of the club. He was running out of time and needed to find Yuri before his bodyguards ushered him out of the building and whisked him away in his car.

  Coming in with guns blazing hasn’t served me as well here.

  He scanned the crowd as best he could in the dark but couldn’t see Yuri. Half-naked dancers paraded around the club looking for lap dance potentials. Others were already sitting on men’s laps, and two girls performed on stage, oblivious of the three dead men on the premises. Luckily, no one had picked up on the gun going off a moment ago.

  He moved farther inside, squeezed past four businessmen in suits standing around drinking, and he walked briskly to the far back of the club where the lights were dimmer. He kept his hands in his pockets, gripping the butts of the two guns.

  When he reached the back, a woman screamed from the area where the Hugo Boss guy had died. Another person screamed.

  He ignored it and scanned the faces of all the men sitting along the back wall. He recognized no one.

  Why would the bartender tell me Yuri is here if he isn’t? Unless he left already.

  He made it to the other side and looked around the crowded club. This time he watched for Russian bodyguards sitting with Yuri. No one fit the description he expected.

  Is this a trap? Are they waiting for me?

  He didn’t believe so. The Russians at the door would’ve expected him. They would’ve been more aggressive.

  The music stopped. The two girls on stage were kneeling down, their tops off. Both of them got up and covered their breasts. They gestured at the DJ booth.

  “Ladies and gentlemen.” The DJ came over the speakers. “May I have your attention?”

  The VIP sign sat lit up five feet away from Darwin beside a darkened door. He headed that way as the DJ began asking everyone to remain calm as there has been an incident reported to him and emergency services had been called.

  Another dancer screamed as she saw the dead Russian.

  Darwin entered the VIP section and turned a corner.

  Fully nude dancers moved up and down on men in booths separated by partitions. Two dancers handled one man in a booth on Darwin’s left.

  He pulled a gun and brought one of the scythes out of his hoodie. Then he stepped up to the first booth, bumped the naked girl aside and looked at the man.

  A stranger.

  It struck him as strange that none of the dancers stopped after the DJ’s announcement. No music played.

  He went from booth to booth until he reached one where a man sat by himself, no dancer present. The man’s head was back, his eyes closed. Cyrillic letters were tattooed on each finger, telling Darwin this guy was part of the Russian Mafia. Yuri must be in the next booth.

  Darwin stepped up close to the man and pushed the scythe up against the man’s neck. The man opened his eyes, saw Darwin and went to move, but all he did was fall on Darwin’s blade.

  He sat on the man, locking his arms in and covered his mouth to mask any sounds he made as he died. The girl in the next booth kept dancing for her customer, unaware of the man dying beside her.

  When the Russian s
topped moving, Darwin got up and stepped behind the dancer. She faced her customer, blocking his view of Darwin.

  After a quick look at the VIP door to make sure no one was coming, Darwin tapped the girl on the shoulder.