by Jonas Saul
“You’re kidding?” Williams asked.
Darwin shook his head. “He did this.” He pointed at his face.
“I know you’re lying,” Williams said. “You have to be. The Scythe is dead. He was the Russian Mafia’s most ruthless executioner. As soon as anyone saw The Scythe, they knew it was game over. We’d hunted him for years. Our intel says he died in a shootout and yet you claim to have met him. I don’t believe it. No one has seen him in years. None of our informants or undercover agents.”
“You think I care what you believe? You assholes constantly prove that we’re not on the same team. Let me out here. I’ll catch a cab to the local Mafia hangout. Got a date with the wife.”
“Then how come you’re still alive?” Williams asked, completely ignoring Darwin’s plea to be let out of the vehicle. “Why didn’t we find you all chopped up if you met The Scythe?”
Darwin decided to play along. He detailed the fight in Yuri’s basement.
Williams grinned. “Jars of canned fruit? Oh man, how the hell did you know to do that?”
Darwin could tell they were placating him.
“I didn’t know. It was luck.”
“You really do have a horseshoe up your ass. I read what Carson wrote in his report about how you singlehandedly stormed Gambino’s house with a German tank and shot Greg Stinsen and your wife with rubber bullets to make Gambino think you’d lost your mind and were killing them.” Williams shook his head. “Insane for sure. But then there’s that lucky horseshoe ...”
“So now what?” Darwin asked. “Tell me your genius plan. How do we stop them and get my wife back?”
Williams and Scott exchanged another glance.
“What?” Darwin asked. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“We won’t be stopping them.”
A silence descended upon the vehicle. Darwin looked out the window and controlled his breathing. Then he met Kirk’s gaze.
“I’m not sure I heard you right,” Darwin said. “Say it again because I thought you said we won’t be stopping them.”
Williams nodded. “You heard me right.”
“Why the fuck not? You’re the FBI for hell’s sake.”
“Because there are too many powerful people going to be at that meeting in two days. The RCMP picked up the location on wiretaps of known associates of Yuri. It’s like the G8 summit for the Mafia and it’s happening right here in Toronto. If we do anything right now, we jeopardize the chance of that meeting ever taking place.”
“And what about Rosina? Just leave her with the dogs?”
“We have no idea where she is at the moment.”
“Is that true? Or do you know where she is and you can’t tell me because you have to let the Mafia G8 meeting take place?” Darwin wiped his brow and took a deep breath. “I think you know where she is or you at least have a good idea. I think she’ll be a part of that meeting and I don’t think she’ll be a willing guest. What are your thoughts on the subject?” he asked, sarcasm on each word. “Huh, what do you think?”
“Look, Darwin, you may have trust issues, but we will do everything we can to get Rosina out safe. But you have to understand something. These kinds of people and the meeting about to take place are the result of years of surveillance, years of economic resources and endless manpower hours staking buildings out, monitoring phone lines and asking judges for search warrants. To have the leaders of three warring families coming together for one meeting is like hitting the jackpot. We have to let the meeting take place, hear what they’re meeting about and then take appropriate action. We need to do it right so charges will stick in court or all our efforts are wasted. If we rock the boat before the meeting, who knows who’ll show up? It could all get wasted.”
Darwin looked out the window. A sign said they were passing an exit to Newmarket. The top of Toronto would be coming up within minutes.
“Darwin, listen,” Williams said. “In North America alone, the Red Mafia operates in almost twenty major cities. There are over thirty Russian crime syndicates in those cities.” He cleared his throat. “Did you know that in all American history, the largest jewelry heist and insurance scams were perpetrated by the Russian Mafia? The amount stolen has been estimated at over one billion dollars. They’re involved in politics, businesses, financial markets and even professional sports. The Russians didn’t come here to be a part of the pursuit of happiness. They came to steal it. That’s why my superiors won’t take into consideration the welfare of one woman when three bosses of rival families are meeting in one place. I’m sorry, but that’s the way the chips fall. I do have the green light if we see her and they intend to harm her. We’ll have snipers watching from every direction.”
“Where is the meeting taking place?” Darwin asked.
“You know I can’t tell you that.”
“It’s okay, I already have a good idea where.”
He stared out the window. No one said anything for a while. He rolled his thumb along the back of his other hand and tapped his foot.
He knew what he had to do and he knew he could. He just hoped none of the agents in this car got killed when he executed his idea to get out of the vehicle.
He waited, but after fifteen minutes, no one said another word. Canada’s Wonderland had passed by on the left a few minutes ago as they entered the northern part of Toronto. The Finch Avenue Bridge passed over them as they continued south.
Time to leave.
He turned to Williams. “Ordinarily, I would completely understand and think you have it right.”
Williams turned to look at him from across the seat. “Have what right?”
Darwin ignored him and continued. “But they have Rosina. My wife and I have been causing the Italians hell for a few months. Now the Russians are involved and Arkady killed a member of the Triads at that warehouse and tried to blame it on me. When they meet in two days, Yuri or Arkady, or both of them, will offer Rosina’s sacrifice as a peace offering. I can’t let that happen. She won’t walk out of that meeting without intervention and I won’t let that happen. My wife is not bait. I don’t care how many prison sentences you get or don’t get. This is my wife we’re talking about.”
Williams adjusted his suit jacket, looked up at Scott and then back at Darwin. “I understand how you feel. But the best thing for you is to let us do our jobs. We’re the FBI. We’re trained for this.”
“Right, and it was the FBI who manned the safe house my wife and I lived in. It was the FBI who protected Rosina when she was taken the second time. It was the FBI who guarded my hospital room when I was fed false information that Yuri had Rosina when in fact he didn’t. Arkady did. Yuri just wanted me so the Russians would have both of us. Am I just supposed to trust you because you’re the FBI? You’re the professionals?”
“You are supposed to trust us, Darwin. I’m afraid you don’t have any other choice. To keep you out of the mix, we can lock you up until it’s over.”
“You could try.”
Anger brewed from deep inside him. A wave of beautiful rage coursed through his body. He looked out the window and waited until traffic was light around them. The Crown Vic was doing at least 120km on the 400 highway still heading south. He closed the manila folder and slipped it down beside him between the seat and the door.
His knuckles ached from the abuse in Yuri’s basement. He had no idea how he could punch, so he decided he would use the lower part of the palm of his hand.
“Darwin, I know you’re angry,” Williams said. “Trust us, this is the only way. We will have the meeting covered by hundreds of agents. It’s a combined task force. If Rosina gets into trouble, we’ll be there.”
Darwin breathed in slow, getting ready.
“Darwin, are you listening?”
“I don’t believe you,” he said as he shot across the backseat and whacked Williams hard on the side of the throat. He wouldn’t get a second chance so he made sure the hit would count. Williams tried to defend himself, but Darwi
n already had his other hand coming around. He hit him again near the front of Kirk’s throat, causing him to crumple back in the seat, gagging for breath.
Scott was lurching in his seat, already reaching over into the back.
Darwin slipped his hand inside Kirk’s jacket, wrapped his fingers around the butt of his weapon and pulled just as Scott’s arm circled around Darwin’s neck. He was yanked back and away from Williams, but the gun came up with him. His breath was cut off instantly by Scott’s powerful arm and his vision blurred.
The driver screamed something and the car swerved, then righted.
Normally Darwin would bring his hands up to pull on the offending arm around his throat. Instead, he flipped the safety off the weapon, aimed the gun and fired a bullet out the side window beside Kirk’s purpling face.
Wind swirled around the backseat, tossing Kirk’s hair around. The pressure from Scott’s arm didn’t decrease. If Darwin didn’t do something soon, he would lose consciousness and lose his chance at freedom.
He turned the gun and pointed it at Scott’s elbow, making sure if he had to fire the bullet it would go clean through and not hit himself in the shoulder.
His vision darkened around the edges and his lungs screamed for air. Before his strength left him completely, he pulled the trigger.
Scott screamed in his ear and the arm dropped from his throat. He took in a huge breath as his eyes watered and regained their clarity. Williams was breathing again, but in short gasps. His lips were purple but his face was coloring.
Darwin tried to tell the driver to pull over, but his voice broke when he opened his mouth. He pointed to the side of the road with the tip of the weapon. The driver understood.
Scott had fallen backwards onto the glove box where he cradled his arm trying to hold the blood in. He moaned like a child with a skinned knee.
The Crown Vic slowed and pulled onto the shoulder near the Sheppard Avenue exit.
“Now,” Darwin said and then cleared his throat. “Get out and leave your gun on the floor.” His voice was hoarse. Darwin turned to the driver. “You too. Gun on the floor and leave the keys in the ignition.”
He leaned back to cover both of them.
“Exit the vehicle on the passenger side only,” he said. “Anyone who fucks with me gets a bullet. Do not piss me off today. It is not a good day to fuck with Darwin.”
He lunged across Williams and pushed open the door on Kirk’s side. Then he shoved Kirk’s shoulder until he fell out sideways, the whole time watching as Scott exited the vehicle, still holding his arm. The driver got out and stood by the back door.
“Can I help Williams?” the driver asked.
“Get him to the grass over there,” Darwin said.
He rested the gun on the back of the seat as the driver put a hand under Kirk’s shoulders and half dragged him away from the car.
Scott’s face had gone white.
“You’re going to be okay,” Darwin shouted at him over the noise from the traffic racing by. “Tell the driver that I want Kirk’s jacket and everyone empty their wallets of cash.”
Scott didn’t move.
At any moment the Ontario Provincial Police highway patrol could pull up and it would all be over. He had no patience for Scott. He turned the weapon, aimed it at Scott’s foot and pulled the trigger. The bullet kicked up dirt not an inch from Scott’s toes.
“Shit, I missed.”
Scott jumped and started to run away.
“Hey, I will shoot you in the back.” Scott stopped running and nearly fell. “Get me Williams’ jacket and I want the cash. Do it now or you will die on the edge of this highway.”
Darwin kept the gun trained on them as he pulled the backseat door closed. Then he crawled over the seat and dropped down into the front. Scott had made it to the driver and Williams, who was looking a lot better. The driver helped him out of his jacket and collected cash from all three wallets.
Then he took a few steps toward the vehicle.
“You aren’t going to shoot me too, are you?”
“Do you want to be shot?” Darwin asked.
He shook his head violently. “I’m just the driver.”
“Bullshit. FBI don’t have drivers. You’re either an agent or RCMP. Now bring me everything I’ve asked for. After that, walk back to them. Do that and you will not get shot. You have my word.”
He moved closer. At the open passenger door, he extended his arm, set the cash down on the seat in a pile and tossed the jacket in. It rolled off the seat and dropped onto the floor.
“I need a cell phone too.”
“In the glove box. We have extras.”
“Step away from the car. Go back to them and call an ambulance.”
Darwin dropped the car into drive and slammed his foot on the accelerator. He pulled away so fast, the passenger door shut on its own.
He hit the Sheppard Avenue exit, turned left and raced east. Five blocks down, he turned onto a side road, parked and collected the cash from the seat. He slipped into the suit jacket, slipped a gun into each pocket, and got out of the car, the keys in his hand. He walked around to the passenger side and opened the glove box where he found two cell phones. Then he changed his mind. They could probably trace him wherever he went. He reached across the backseat and snatched up the manila folder.
After shutting the door, he waited a minute to let his heart slow down. Then he crossed the street and walked up to two young men loitering by a tattoo parlor.
“Here,” he said. “Take these.” He tossed the car keys at the bigger guy. “It’s yours.” He pointed at the Crown Victoria he just walked away from.
“Is it hot?” the guy asked as he passed them.
“Not at all. I’m moving to Europe and don’t need it.” He turned around to face them and continued walking backwards. “I didn’t have time to sell it, so it’s yours. Have fun.”
He mixed in with the crowd of pedestrians and disappeared on the streets of Toronto.
Chapter 11
Darwin spent the day shopping, picking up new clothes and discarding the old. As soon as he looked completely different in jeans and a hoodie sweater, he grabbed a cab to Woodbridge, and five minutes later, took a cab to Brampton. After a ten-minute wait, he took a cab downtown Toronto, making sure to always use a different cab company. He needed it to be virtually impossible for the authorities to follow his trail. He had a full meal at a chicken restaurant downtown, courtesy of the FBI cash his friends happily left on the front seat of their Crown Victoria for him.
During the early evening, he kept his head down, watched his back and searched out a knife shop on Yonge Street. As the sun dipped behind the skyscrapers and the beginnings of dusk fell upon the streets, Darwin entered a large knife shop that sold almost every type of weapon he’d ever seen. Samurai swords hung suspended behind the counter. Cases displayed a myriad from Swiss army knives up to hunting knives.
He could never have entered the store three weeks ago. Not with his phobia of sharp and pointy things. Being around knives, seeing them this close, would’ve driven him into a rage. But now, after the swelling and induced coma, his phobias had disappeared.
I had a phobia of knives and now I’m looking to buy one. I must be crazy.
“Can I help you?”
A young man wearing a collar shirt and a tie stepped up to him. He was clean shaven and wore glasses.
“You work here?” Darwin asked.
“Yeah. Were you expecting someone else?”
“No, you just don’t look the type.”
“The type? Should I have tattoos, a nose ring, a shirt with cutoff sleeves?” he joked. Then he narrowed his eyes, smiled, and pointed at Darwin in a friendly gesture. “Are you stereotyping me?”
“No, I just …”
“It’s okay. I get that all the time. This is my shop. What are you looking for?”
“A scythe.”
“A scythe? What are you thinking of cutting with it?”
�
�Why do you need to know that?” Darwin snapped before he could stop himself.
“It’ll help to determine the size and kind of blade.”
“Oh, ahh, grass. I need it for grass.”
“Come with me.”
Darwin followed the clerk through the store. Under the counter were small, handheld scythes. Larger ones, some as tall as Darwin with a long wooden handle stood behind the counter.
“We’ve got a variety of scythes, from sixteen-inch blades to fifty-inch. It all depends on your needs.”
