He finished his cig and looked me in the eye. “Take your money and be smart. If I were you I’d kick Jackie out as soon as you can. She’ll turn you in to Whelan and you’ll be meatloaf for pigs upstate on his farm.”
Now I lit up a cig, blew out the smoke, and then said, “Thanks Kenny, this is incredible. I had you figured all wrong I guess.”
“Just be careful, and keep an eye on her,” Kenny said.
I left his apartment, my head spinning. I couldn’t figure out who was telling the truth. Time would tell. I only hoped to make the right choice at the right time.
On my way home, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Kenny had said. Was Jackie really reporting my activities? Did Rudy really have a cozy connection with the Russians? I had to find out what happened. Something went wrong and Kenny sacrificed Rudy to cover his tracks. Or was it Jackie? I wondered if Mr. Sullivan knew Kenny was still dealing with the Russians. It was a dangerous game and I was getting deeper in it with every move.
Things were quiet for the next few days. I went back to my old apartment in Hell’s Kitchen. I couldn’t go back to Jackie and the other apartment until I cleared my head. Dana didn’t call me, she must’ve been so pissed off, so I called her and left another message. This time I apologized and offered to make it up to her if she’d just call me back. I didn’t hear from Kenny during that time. I thought he must’ve been lining things up for the next big haul.
I drank, read, and visited Jimmy. He was doing very well. The doctors were cutting back on his medicine. He was still excited about his new love Tracy. They were helping each other one day at a time. Jimmy and Tracy had quickly become best friends. I’d never seen Jimmy so happy or interested in a woman like this before. I was glad for him and Tracy, but sad for Dana and me. I’d fucked things up royally and all I could do was drink the pain away.
I decided to call up Dana late one night after a few shots of bourbon. I dialed Dana’s number and she answered on the first ring.
“You have some nerve calling me, stop leaving messages and go bother someone else who doesn’t care if you stand them up all the time,” she said. Her voice was angry, but still had that sweet twang with a sassy southern drawl.
“I’m sorry, Dana. I’ve had a bunch of problems and I didn’t want to expose you to it. Bad people were after me, and I thought you might get hurt.”
“I’ve seen your kind before, Bill. You’re a user. You only come around when it suits you,” she said.
“Dana, I really care for you. I’ll make it up to you. Please give me a chance.”
The silence was deafening, but she didn’t hang up. I could hear her breathing.
“Fuck you. Bill, I’m done with your crap.”
“Dana, please meet me. I need to see you, and I’ll explain.” I said, but the phone was dead.
Later that night I picked up the Lincoln from the garage and headed over to Dana’s apartment. I knew I needed to discuss my situation with Dana and she would never agree to meet me. I hoped she’d still be interested in me after she understood my job. I would do my best to beg her forgiveness and explain the truth about this crazy mess I was in.
I parked the Lincoln on a side street and walked over to Dana’s place. I pressed her apartment buzzer and waited. I thought she would say something through the intercom, but she just buzzed me in. I made a mental note to tell her to be more careful.
I went up the stairs and knocked on the door. When Dana didn’t answer, I tried the doorknob and found it was unlocked. I walked into the apartment and something hit me. A white flash of pain exploded in my head, blinding me as darkness engulfed me.
I had a hard time recognizing where I was. I was strapped to a chair. My arms and legs were immobilized. I looked around the room, and all was dark except for one light bulb hanging over my seat. The pain behind my eyes still throbbed and the back of my skull ached, which made me nauseated again. I tried to focus on the room, but couldn’t focus or see beyond the lighted area surrounding my confinement.
I sat there for a while. It could’ve been a few minutes or a few hours. At one point I blacked out again. When I awoke there was vomit on my shirt and lap. The stench made me gag.
Sometime later, a door opened behind me then slammed, echoing within the room and right through my aching head. I squeezed my eyes tight to push away the pain. Someone walked around the edge of the darkness, but I couldn't see who it was.
A deep male voice growled. “You have a sweet, beautiful girlfriend. Don’t you think it would be shame if something happened to her?”
I recognized the accent immediately. It was Russian.
“You fucking touch her and I’ll kill you!” I shouted.
“You have something that belongs to me. I want it back or your girlfriend will be working at our club,” he said. He took a few steps out of the shadows, and walked into the light. It was Viktor, shaved head, goatee, with corded muscles bulging under his clothes. He paced, back and forth. “You and your friend made me look ridiculous. The Bratva will not be robbed by your overpriced garbage. It’s an insult to our honor.”
His phone went off. He reached into his jacket and answered. Yelling in Russian, he clearly wasn’t happy with the person on the call. He closed the phone, looked at me. “Your friends are trying to interrupt us.”
His phone went off again, he looked to see who it was, then turned it off. “Tell me where the money is.”
“I don’t know what your problem is, but Dmitry paid us so you should take it up with him.”
He took off his jacket and hung it on a hook in the shadows. “You ripped us off. That price was ridiculous.”
“Alright, so you want a refund?” I asked.
“Half the money is what I want,” he answered.
“I don’t have it.”
He launched two fast punches. My head rocked back. Blood trickled from a cut over my right eye.
“No more bullshit.” Viktor said, and picked up a long pipe off the floor.
I wasn’t going to tell him anything. The more he tried, the more frustrated he became. After he started, I passed out again. I drifted in and out of consciousness. At one point I could feel the impact, but I was barely able to open my eyes. I thought I saw other people in the room, but couldn’t be sure. They appeared to be dancing, but I heard no music. Viktor came closer, he screamed and spit with rage. The last thing I remember was his twisted face; inches from mine, shouting as someone pulled him away. Dark shadows closed in around me as I fell into complete darkness and silence.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I heard a female voice. “Can you hear me, Mr. Conlin?”
I tried to speak, but couldn't get my mouth to form words. My voice came out in a series of mumbles. I knew what I wanted to say, but my body wouldn't cooperate.
I opened my eyes. Looking around, it appeared I was in the hospital or something. I looked at the woman, who had spoken to me, a nurse, as she adjusted an intravenous drip hanging on my right side. “Are you in any pain? Just nod, or make a sound, if you can.”
I nodded.
“I’ll get you something for your pain.”
Moments later she returned and injected something into my IV. The pain subsided, and I faded out.
For what seemed like weeks, I was kept medicated, then began to regain my strength. One day a doctor came by to visit while I was awake. I struggled to speak to him, but I couldn’t.
“Just take it easy,” he said. “You’ve come a long way in a short time. Your jaw’s been wired shut to help it heal.”
“What happened?” I asked through clenched teeth.
He wrote some notes on my chart, then said, “We don’t know what happened to you, but what we do know is your jaw, nose, right cheekbone, and both legs were broken in several places.”
“Where’s the girl? Where is Dana?” Of course he had no idea what I was talking about.
A few days later, they wheeled me to the outside patio. The sun was so bright I could barely see and sq
uinted until my eyes adjusted. Jimmy sat at a table smoking and stood up when he saw me. He put out his cigarette in an ashtray, came over and gave me a hug.
“Bill, I’m so glad to see you’re doing better.”
“It’s good to see you, Jimmy.”
“How’s your physical therapy coming? I heard they are gonna be taking out the pins from your legs soon.”
“Good,” I said.
Jimmy was the only person to visit me regularly while I was in rehab. I was proud of him, back on track. He brought me crime novels, and picked me up for day trips to the park.
After several months I was finally feeling strong enough to leave the rehab center, but Jimmy still couldn’t tell me about Dana.
“It’s a long story” he said when I asked him again. “After Viktor worked you over, Kenny was able to get Dmitry to track down your location and rescue you. When they got there, you were a bloody mess and Viktor was out of his mind with rage. He was so frustrated with the lack of information that he turned his anger on Dmitry. An internal turf war broke out and the Brooklyn Russian Bratva split in two. Dmitry had a stronger position with his connections to the Irish and Italian mob. That didn’t stop Viktor from robbing bagmen and busting up whorehouses. Currently there’s a price on his head. He’s gone into hiding.
“But where’s Dana?” I asked again.
“Kenny talked Dmitry into recovering Dana from a Russian whorehouse in Brooklyn, but before they arrived she was moved to an unknown location. Viktor is keeping her close, as his last card. We’re still trying to find out where she is. I’m so sorry Bill.”
“Is she alive?” I asked.
“Dmitry believes she is. Viktor is refusing to turn her over without payment of one hundred thousand dollars. It’s been months since this all went down though...”
He trailed off. I sobbed with grief, my face buried in my hands. “If only I stayed away from Dana. I knew it was dangerous, but I didn’t think anyone was following me. I can’t believe Viktor singled me out.”
Jimmy put his arm around me. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but I’ll help any way I can. You’ve always been like a brother to me and I’m here for you now.”
“Thanks Jimmy.”
“I’m clean now, thanks to you. I’m married and Mr. Sullivan took me back. I’ve been helping with collections again,” he said.
I squeezed my fists tight, nails biting into my palms. “I gotta get out of here,” I said. “I’m gonna find Dana and kill Viktor. He’ll suffer, slow and painful.”
“You just need to get strong and back on your feet. I’ll keep my ears open, and I know Kenny is looking for Dana, too. We’ll find both of them soon.”
“I have the money. Contact Viktor and get proof of life. We need to make a trade immediately,” I said frantically.
“How do you have that kind of money Bill?” Jimmy asked with a skeptical expression.
“I have money from ripping off some Mexican drug dealers,” I answered.
I paused and took a few breaths before continuing. “Tell Kenny to make arrangements to pay Viktor. I’ll trade the money for Dana, but hurry. This has gone on long enough.”
“We need to speak to Mr. Sullivan before we do anything,” Jimmy said.
My last day at rehab, Jimmy and Kenny came to pick me up. Kenny climbed out of the driver’s side, gave me a hug and a smack on the back. “I’m sorry about all this, but it’s good to see you, Bill. Now let’s go get your girl.”
“Okay, but I’m not so sure I’m ready,” I said, rubbing my legs.
Kenny drove uptown. “Mr. Sullivan wants to speak with you about the Russians,” he said.
“Sure, I’m ready to get down to business,” I replied.
Kenny pulled up in front of McKenzie’s. “We’ll be here when you come out,” Kenny said.
I opened the car door, moved my legs to the side, and climbed out of the back seat. I planted my feet on the ground, and then used the cane to steady myself as I lifted my butt off the seat. It took a while for me to get out. The ride had made me a little stiff, but once standing I was able to straighten up and start moving.
I walked into the restaurant and stood by the door until Morgan came over, smiling, his hands held out wide. I could smell his Polo Cologne before he even got close.
He patted me on the back. “We’re all glad you’re okay, Bill. Mr. Sullivan has asked me to personally help you with your problems,” he said.
“Where do we start?” I asked.
“Dmitry is our main contact with the Russians. You’ll go with Kenny and Jimmy, find out what he knows and report back to me.” He paused, and then continued, “The apartment, car, and Jackie are all still available for you.”
“Please thank Mr. Sullivan. I really appreciate all his help, but I don’t want to share the apartment with Jackie anymore,” I said.
“I’ll pass that message onto Mr. Sullivan. For now let’s just leave things as they are. Start gathering information and see how you feel.”
I knew they wouldn’t let me change the arrangement. They needed Jackie to get information about my activities.
Morgan moved closer and whispered in my ear. “We’re working to find Viktor. Hang tight and once we are sure of his location we’ll settle the score.”
I could feel the rage building deep inside me. Clenching my jaw, I felt a sharp pain run along the right side of my face. The pain brought me back to reality and I needed to lighten up before I injured myself or did something stupid.
I turned to Morgan, then whispered, “Someone set me up and told Viktor where my girlfriend lived. Whoever that person is will pay with their life.”
He looked at me, and said, “Just make sure you ask permission. Unsanctioned hits are extremely frowned upon.”
“I understand,” I said.
“Remember that we have rules that must be followed. If there is something you’re not telling us, now would be a good time” he said.
“I can only hope that when I do find him I’ll have time to ask permission.”
“Make sure that you do,” Morgan said.
As I turned to leave, pandemonium took over the bar. Word came that Mr. Sullivan’s car had been ambushed in the Midtown Tunnel by a group of motorcycle assassins. His driver and bodyguards were dead at the scene, but there were rumors that the boss was still breathing.
Mr. Sullivan had been taken directly to New York Presbyterian Hospital. No other information about his condition was available. Meanwhile, the police had closed the tunnel to investigate.
The atmosphere quickly changed over to a stampede as half the men in the restaurant rushed out, their voices loud and agitated. Morgan and five men raced out to Mr. Sullivan’s side to protect him from further attempts on his life.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I walked out into the street and took a deep breath. Jimmy rolled down the window. “What’s going on?”
“Someone just hit Sullivan in the Midtown Tunnel.”
“Come on, get in. We have to go,” Jimmy said.
Kenny leaned down to peer at me past the roofline. “Get in, let’s go,” he said.
I climbed in slow and carefully. “Where are we going?” I asked.
“To meet Dmitry. We have things to discuss. Morgan will take care of Mr. Sullivan,” Kenny said.
As we drove, I thought about the assassination attempt, and how it had to be the Mexicans. Guys on bikes had tried to kill me the same way. The Mexicans were launching an all out war over Manny’s murder and losses would be heavy on both sides.
Sullivan underestimated the Mexicans’ ability to catch up with him. Angel wouldn’t stop until her blood lust was satisfied. I wasn’t sure she had given up on trying to kill me either. I needed to get healthy fast and walking around with a cane made me an easy target. “Hey Kenny, let’s go by my apartment on 51st before we head over to Brooklyn. I need to pick up a few things.”
“Just make it fast.” Kenny said.
Kenny pull
ed the Mercury Grand Marquis in front of the building. I climbed out of the back seat and hobbled to the front door. The doorman held the door open for me.
“Welcome back, sir. I’m glad to see you well again.”
Thanks, Tony. It’s good to be back,” I said.
While waiting for the elevator I started to think back before the beating. I left all the cash in the apartment upstairs. Could it still be there after so long being out of commission? I was about to find out.
I used the cane as I made my way down the hallway to the apartment and knocked on the door. A few seconds passed, then the door opened. Jackie smiled at me. “Welcome home. I hope you’re feeling better.”
“Yes, I’m getting there. Slow, but steady.”
“Well, are you coming in?” she asked.
“Yes, just for a quick sec.”
I stepped in and Jackie closed the door behind me. I went straight into the bedroom and unlocked the armoire. On the left, rifles and shotguns hung on hooks. I opened the first drawer, grabbed a Beretta and loaded the clip. I pulled out the middle drawer and gazed at all different size combat knives. I took two Browning compact push daggers and put one in each pocket. The money I left in the armoire from my deals with Kenny was untouched.
I came out of the bedroom and Jackie was sitting on the couch watching TV, a drink in her hand. She put the drink down and walked toward me. I moved towards the front door.
“I like your beard. It looks good. How are you feeling?” she asked, looking from my face down to my legs.
“I’m getting stronger every day,” I replied.
“Well, I’m glad you made it out alive,” she said, without emotion.
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