Mafia Trilogy 03 - The Scythe

by Jonas Saul

  “I need something small for close contact, I mean, culling closely spaced saplings.” He thought that part sounded good.

  “In that case, you might want to go with an eighteen-inch ditch blade or a sixteen-inch.”

  For what Darwin wanted, he couldn’t buy the large ones with long wooden staffs. They would see him coming a mile away. He had to go with the smallest blade attached to a handle the length of a hammer with a little finger-grip piece on the handle.

  “I’ll take two of these.”

  “You’ll need a whetstone and a whetstone holder.”

  “What’s that?”

  The clerk showed him the holder and how it clipped onto his belt and what to do with the whetstone.

  “You could go one step farther and get a small anvil and peening hammer so it’s easier to dress the blade in the field. Got to keep it sharp, you know.”

  “No, that’s okay. The whetstone will be enough.”

  After he paid, the clerk threw in two blade covers.

  Darwin walked back out onto Yonge Street with his new assault weapons tucked under his arm.

  He had over a hundred bucks left from the cash, but he wouldn’t need any of it until later. He had bought what he needed for the next step and he had a destination in mind.

  On the way to kill some Russians, he stopped for an extra large coffee and drank it back as fast as he could without burning his mouth.

  It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 12

  Darwin stayed in the shadows across the street from the Russian restaurant on Queen Street where he’d met Yuri and studied the faces of everyone entering or leaving.

  Mentally, he had crossed a line. He knew it and he was okay with it. The good part of him had evaporated and in its place was only hate. He no longer feared them or was angry at his enemies. They were enemies and needed to be treated as such.

  The Mafia, whether it was the Italians or the Russians, were at war with his family. The FBI was doing nothing about it. No one was being arrested, no one questioned. The Mafia had kidnapped his wife, shot Carson Dodge, and decapitated Greg Stinsen, and the FBI was sitting on their collective hands while Rosina was still in danger.

  If the Red Mafia could do whatever they wanted and still walk the streets, then so could Darwin. If the FBI wasn’t prepared to do anything about this mess, then he would.

  It was time to set things right. Time to send a message. All the addresses of known clubs, bars and restaurants owned by or affiliated with the Russian Mafia in the Toronto area had been in the folder Special Agent Williams had given him. Along with that were dozens of photos of Mafia men and associates. All those photos and addresses were folded neatly in Darwin’s back pockets. As he dealt with them, he would pull their pictures out, rip them up and discard them.

  He knew he couldn’t walk into the restaurant, pull the scythes out and not expect a bullet. He would need to use Williams’ and Scott’s guns. Then he would use the scythes.

  He stepped from the shadows. It was after ten at night and he had other stops to make. After he crossed Queen Street, he walked up to the window of the restaurant and just like on his first night here, peeked inside past a little white curtain. Only five people were inside. Four men were sitting at one table halfway down and the bartender stood behind the bar. They all looked Russian.

  Darwin moved to the door, pulled out William’s gun, concealed it beside his leg, and opened the door. He slipped inside and pulled the door closed, latching the thumb lock.

  He took a couple of deep breaths through his open mouth, lifted his hoodie over his head, and turned into the main part of the restaurant, his gun hand behind his butt. The four men turned to see who had entered.

  The bartender had been wiping glasses behind the bar. Darwin stopped ten feet from him and he set down the glass in his hand.

  “You look for someone?” the bartender asked in a heavy Russian accent.

  Darwin figured the four men would be armed, but he had forgotten that bartenders always had a weapon behind the bar. Once the shooting started, he would have to duck down somewhere, find shelter.

  But where?

  He moved sideways toward the table where Yuri had eaten the night he was here.

  “Hey, he ask you question,” one of the four men at the table said, his accent also heavy. “Why your hand behind your back?”

  He was in too far. There was no other choice now. There was no way he could walk backwards out of the restaurant. At any second, one of the four men was going to demand to know what he was doing in their establishment if he didn’t act more like a customer.

  He stood beside Yuri’s table now. The bartender had moved closer to the bar, no doubt getting closer to a weapon.

  Next time I need to come in with guns blazing.

  “I’m looking for Yuri Pavel,” Darwin said.

  “He ain’t here. We’ll tell him you were by.”

  “How about Arkady?”

  The four men looked at each other. Then the speaker stood up. “How you know Arkady? Who are you? Pull that hoodie off.”

  “One of them has my wife. Until I find her …”

  “Yeah, until you find her what?”

  “Until I find her, I will kill every Russian I encounter—”

  A weapon fired from somewhere behind him, and everyone jumped. Darwin’s legs were already weak and shaking. He slipped to the floor when the gunshot startled him. Glass from the front window cascaded down in a high-pitched tinkling sound.

  He spun his head around to see a man outside on the sidewalk aiming a gun at him through the broken glass of the restaurant window.

  Darwin brought up William’s gun and fired as fast as he could, hoping to beat the shooter.

  He did. The bullet hit the man in the left cheek. A squirt of blood shot out and the man’s face disappeared from the window.

  Another loud bang, this time from inside the restaurant. Chunks of wood broke off the table beside Darwin’s head, a couple of them lodging in his face.

  He turned in time to see the bartender cocking a shotgun. Darwin aimed and emptied Kirk’s gun in the bartender’s direction, screaming as each bullet left the barrel. The gun clicked on empty. He tossed it aside and dropped down flat as more bullets whizzed by him.

  Now the foursome was shooting at him.

  He brought up Scott’s gun and peeked through a small hole in the table. The four men had scattered. Two were behind an upturned table just as Darwin was. The other two were behind pillars near the back. He applied the gun to the hole in the table, aimed it as best as he could and emptied it in the direction of the two men by the pillars.

  One of them shouted and cursed and didn’t stop for a few seconds. Darwin snuck a peek around the edge of the table while he pulled the driver’s gun out.

  Shit, one left.

  The man by the back pillar now lay sprawled across a table in the back with blood seeping out of his arm and chest. He had stopped screaming as blood bubbled out of his mouth. One of the men from behind the table was half exposed as a random bullet had hit him in the forehead. Shooting Scott’s gun wild like he did luckily got both men. But now he had one gun and the last two men were still in hiding, one behind a table and one behind another pillar.

  The man stepped out from behind the beam. From that distance, his bullets went wild, only one of them hitting the table Darwin hunkered behind. Then his partner tried, with one hitting the floor two inches from Darwin’s hand.

  He chanced a look around the table again and understood what they were doing. While one fired at him, the other had moved closer.

  Shit.

  A moment later, one of them started shooting again which meant the other was on the move. Darwin pushed his gun hand around the edge of the table and sprayed all the bullets he had in the direction he thought the man advancing would be.

  There was a grunt and a gasp of surprise, then a solid thud. Now it was just the two of them left.

  But Darwin was
out of bullets. All he had left were the two scythes. With all the gunfire and a man lying out front the restaurant shot in the cheek, it was sure to draw a crowd fast. He had to get out before the cops showed up. If the police took him now, he would never be able to help Rosina.

  “Are you a smart man?” Darwin asked.

  After a moment the guy said, “Fuck you.”

  “I guess you’re not that smart.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I work for Yuri. I’m here with a message about the meeting that’s taking place in two days. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

  He didn’t get an answer. For a second, he feared the man was approaching him.

  He peeked around the edge of the table. No one was in sight.

  At the broken window, a young couple looked inside the restaurant. Darwin gestured with his gun hand for them to get away.

  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.
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  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.