Reverse Metamorphosis book one of the Irrevocable Change trilogy

by R. E. Schobernd

  Reverse Metamorphosis

  Book One

  Of The Trilogy

  Irrevocable Change

  The Evolution of an Assassin

  A Novel by

  R.E. Schobernd

  Published by R.E. Schobernd at Smashwords

  Copyright 2011 by R.E. Schobernd

  Other Novels by the Author

  In the Irrevocable Change trilogy

  Book Two

  The Assassin Evolves

  Book Three

  The Devils Homecoming

  Also by the author,

  The Blonde Heiress - A Carter A. Johnson Novel

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  Thank you for respecting the time and effort put into these works by the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Locations have been referenced only for color and story line and convey no other implications.

  Preface

  The normal order of metamorphosis is for some ugly life forms at creation to develop into a creature of wonder and beauty. The caterpillar crawling along a tree branch before a beautiful butterfly emerges, floating and rising in the slightest breeze is the most recognized of these transformations.

  By contrast, human beings are born beautiful of body and innocent of mind, but can be subject to reverse metamorphosis into creatures of ugliness. These changes are not part of the natural process of evolution which is destined to occur, but happen due to choices made by each individual. Social and environmental pressures influence these changes, but ultimately the responsibility rests with the mind and soul of the person bending to and adjusting to the pressures and circumstances around them.

  Clayton Lewis Albrecht is one such reverse metamorphic being.

  Chapter 1

  Later, he would wish he had driven straight home. Instead, at a small town just south of the Wisconsin state line he exited the highway where several bars competed for the drinking trade. The one he randomly picked sat beneath a gaudy, flashing neon sign taller than the single story brick front roadhouse. Only a half dozen parking spots remained at the back of the gravel lot, most of them up against a line of weeds and hedge trees bordering an adjacent field. The musky smell of freshly turned earth mingled pleasantly with the aroma of fried food and stale beer coming from the exhaust fans. The temperature was in the mid fifties; typical for Chicago in late spring.

  At the entrance got carded and paid the three dollar cover charge. Weaving through the crowd he inched his way to the bar. The single room was packed, with the lucky patrons at tables surrounding a hardwood dance floor he guessed to be twenty feet square. Bodies were jammed together doing at least six different dance steps no matter how the music tempo changed. The music was loud, but good for a local group. He raised his hand until one of the bartenders caught sight of him through the low hanging smoke cloud and took his order for a draft. In a few minutes an older guy slid off his stool and headed toward the door.

  After beating two other men to the seat, he settled in and looked in the back mirror to see who was bellied up to the bar. On his left he watched and listened to a couple arguing loudly. He took note of the girl sitting next to him; she saw him watching her and smiled. Several minutes later the guy she had been arguing with got up and walked away. The busty red head turned toward him, introduced herself, and started a conversation. She was about nineteen or twenty going on thirty. Already there was a tough bar room look about her; not unattractive, but too rough and knowing for her age. The thin rayon blouse she wore let her breast show through nicely and promised bigger rewards behind the fabric. She was underage to be there, but he'd experienced the same problem only months earlier before he turned twenty one.

  They had been talking a few minutes when someone behind him yelled loudly and a hard punch land on his back, throwing him against the bar. As he got turned around, under more blows, the drunken boyfriend was yelling about Clay hitting on his girlfriend. He slid off the bar stool as he pushed the guy away. A bartender must have signaled the bouncers because shortly after his feet hit the wood floor and he landed a right upside boyfriend’s head and a left to the man's gut, the drunk was under the control of two bouncers and being manhandled toward the door.

  Another bouncer, bald and muscular, was in front of Clay getting his attention, “I know the other guy started it and if you want to sit back down you can stay. Otherwise, out you go, and you two can continue the fight outside while I call the Sherriff. What’ll it be?”

  “No problem, I didn’t come here to fight, so it’s over. Thanks.”

  When he was seated again the girl touched his arm, "I'm sorry. I had heard Cleve could be a real idiot when he drinks too much. I won't be going out with him again." She didn’t make a move to leave.

  "It's not your fault, and it's done with." Clay laughed and continued, "He's too drunk to throw a decent punch anyway." She smiled and continued their conversation.

  He ordered fresh drinks, thinking things were finally going his way for the first time that night. With any luck he might have her in a motel room later. After the drinks were paid for he excused himself to go to the john and walked off through the mass of mostly young people.

  When he returned the stool next to his was empty, but the girl’s drink was still on the bar. Looking out over the dance floor he spotted her dancing with an older guy, nearly thirty or so. When the band took a break she and her partner came back to the bar. She sat with her back to Clay, talking to the new love of her life standing on the other side of her. Having crashed and burned for the second time in one evening he decided to finish his beer and head home.

  Finally he was outside in the fresh air and walked around the corner of the building, heading back toward his car. By then the lot was completely full, with cars and trucks crammed into every possible spot and thirty or more parked out along the highway on both shoulders.

  He was cutting through the rows of cars to the back but was still far to the left of his car. Behind him and to his left there was the sound of someone running in the gravel and closing in on him fast. Clay turned his head and shoulders to see what was going down and saw a blurred motion up close. Instinctively he raised his left arm while twisting and moving his head to the right. A slightly built figure of medium height had his right arm raised with a large object in his hand. Getting his arm up probably saved his life as a brick careened down with momentum and scraped his left ribcage. During the twisting, dodging gyrations his feet got tangled together, he lost his footing in the gravel, and fell against the side of a car on his right rib cage, with the upper right arm extended over and onto the trunk. The assailant didn’t fare any better and was trying to regain his balance and get his bearings. Clay recognized the attacker as the loud-mouthed drunk who had hit him in the back earlier. The thought of the two attacks pissed him off and gave him the strength to launch himself at the aggressor. The assailant still had the brick in his hand when Clay landed three good punches to the head and kneed him in the groin. He knew it was a good blow when his assailant’s legs went together and bent slightly at the knees as he groaned. They were between the rear ends of two cars and the drunk was slowly bending over toward him with his left hand grasping f
or something to hang on to. Slowly he continued to slide down the side of the car. While Clay debated whether to hit him again the attacker’s knee touched the ground giving him enough stability to swing the brick in his right hand at Clay’s knees. Clay jumped back. The assailant started back to his left with the brick for another attack as Clay grabbed the end of the man’s outstretched arm and flung the hand holding the brick toward the man’s head with all his strength. The corner of the brick struck the right side of the head, pushing it against the cars fender. A dull, sickening thud was heard when his skull made contact with the Buick’s fender where it was molded to receive the taillight and had no give to it. The strangers head absorbed the entire force of the brick. The attacker collapsed onto the gravel with blood flowing from his crushed skull.

  Clay grabbed the man’s outstretched wrist and felt for a pulse. None! Standing up quickly and looking toward the back of the bar he didn’t see anyone in the back lot. He didn’t know whether to go back to the bar and report what had happened, or just leave. Hastily he decided to avoid trouble and just leave. If the Sherriff was called he could be there for hours and might even be locked up overnight.

  Grabbing the man by both ankles he dragged the body down the line of cars and dropped it behind two he found backed into their parking spots. With the body concealed in the weeds at the fence he looked again for anyone in sight. Back at the scene of the fight he kicked gravel over the blood spot on the ground and searched for small dribbles left while the body was being moved.

  His car was about eighty feet away and he hurried down the line of cars, still keeping in the shadows and under tree limbs. The music was loud in the background and he was surprised he didn’t remember hearing it during the fight.

  As he got in the car and started the engine he noticed his hands were shaking and his chest was pounding. Slowly he backed out of the parking spot and drove toward the exit as normally as possible; he resisted the urge to spin the tires and get away quickly. Four people were near the front of the bar talking before heading for their cars. He doubted they noticed him or would remember his car.

  After getting out on the feeder highway and then up onto the freeway his heart was still pounding and he was breathing fast and deep. He was exhilarated knowing the man had attacked him twice from behind and yet he was the one who survived. The bastard got what was coming to him. I’ll teach him to fuck with me, he thought. His hands felt cold and clammy and he began to shake. He’d killed a man! He didn’t even know the bastard. Oh God! What if somebody saw him and got his description and license number? Did he leave fingerprints on either of the cars they were between? His breathing had slowed, but he was shaking uncontrollably. He pulled the car to the side of the freeway and parked. Sitting inside the car he hung his head and cried uncontrollably. The let down from the adrenaline rush coupled with the realization of what the consequences could be caused the trembling and sobbing to continue for several intense minutes. The image in his mind of the dead man lying in the gravel with blood running from his head gave him a sick feeling and he began to get the dry heaves.

  Leaving the car he moved to the right rear fender and began to vomit. Deep spasms originated in his bowels and worked up his torso ending at his jaws. Never had he imagined being so scared. All because of some damn drunk he didn’t even know.

  He knew several people who claimed to have killed others, but it had never happened to him! Not until now.

  As soon as his emotions were under control he got back in the car and finished the drive home. At his parents house he parked in his usual spot and quietly slipped in the backdoor. Downstairs in his room he took a shower and crawled into bed. It was after one o’clock but he couldn’t sleep. The initial shock had worn off and he was starting the process of accepting what had happened. His main concern was he could be identified and traced. If his first move after the attack had been to get help, instead of hiding the body as if he had done something wrong, there most likely wouldn’t be any problem. But you live with the results of your actions. It was too late to go back and explain he only defended himself and panicked when the man died. Finally, as the sun was rising, he drifted into an uneven sleep.

  Just before eleven he awoke and stretched, then washed, shaved and got dressed. His right rib cage was sore and slightly bruised where he had fallen against the car fender the night before; proof of what he wished was a nightmare was in fact reality. His initial thought was, Clayton Lewis Albrecht you really stepped in it this time.

  While eating a sandwich he scanned through the morning paper. Luckily, there was no report of any incident at the bar. Of course, even if the body had been found it was probably too late to make the morning edition. His mother and stepfather must have gone out for lunch after church: and if Lizzy, his younger sister, was home she had stayed in her room. He decided to see if his best friend Jimmy G. was hanging out at the bar run by Jimmy’s dad. Clay had learned much about the man from the stories Jimmy told and from just listening as he hung out around the family and the men at the bar.

  Chapter 2

  Tony Giliano was a big man; six feet four inches tall, weighing two hundred sixty pounds and didn’t carry an ounce of fat. He was in his late forties, had black wavy hair and appeared to have a permanent medium tan.

  When Tony was seventeen his father died; he never stated the exact details of the death, but hinted at his old man being a collector for a protection racket who was caught skimming money for himself.

  Near the middle of his senior year Tony fell in love with a tall, slender, olive skinned beauty who transferred to his school. She was the most beautiful girl Tony had ever seen and he was determined to claim her. Anna Viscalli was the daughter of John Viscalli, a mid level boss who had been recruited from outside the local family area where Tony lived and worked.

  Tony and Anna were married in June and their first son, John Anthony Giliano, was born November 30, 1942. Tony continued his enforcement work, while working at a slaughter house and settled into being a father and husband; with an occasional girlfriend on the side.

  Slowly Tony learned the inner politics of gang life and found he could function well within those strict but often unspoken rules. Often he found himself discussing problems with Anna in bed before or after they made love. She was a good sounding board for his thoughts and ideas, and sometimes offered some helpful insights of her own. His father-in-law noticed signs of leadership and was impressed and soon other men in the gang were reporting to Tony.

  Four years into their marriage Anna’s father staged a brutal take over by killing the gang's top family members. Tony played an important role in the assassinations and was made a lieutenant under John.

  The next fourteen years were good for Tony and he rose to be second in command by making himself a trusted and dependable supporter of his father in law. To show his gratitude, in 1956 John sponsored Tony for his acceptance into Cosa Nostra as a made man.

  In 1960 John Viscalli’s doctor informed him he had prostate cancer and would need surgery to stop the spread of the disease. John decided he had enough money to retire from the business he had built and could live the rest of his life between Chicago and Florida. He enjoyed fishing and playing golf and could grow old doing both if he passed the gang on to Tony; for a price of course.

  With a reputation for being both tough and savvy Tony seldom had to really crack down on the people he dealt with. When someone challenged him a couple of weeks in the hospital would change their thinking. The ones who were dumber than dumb were found a few miles away, shot, beat to death, garroted, or they just disappeared, either way, they were no longer a problem.

  Jimmy was like his old man in some ways, but didn’t have the good looks and charisma or the bad temper. He was smart, tough and determined; if he set his mind on a goal he made things happen until he got what he wanted. Jimmy had told Clay enough stories about his dad and his business to know Tony was high up in the mob, and controlled all of the action in his area; drugs, pros
titution numbers, protection and several other legitimate businesses.

  Tony hosted high stakes poker games above the bar every Wednesday night starting at five in the afternoon. Down the hallway from the game room were a bathroom, an office and a bedroom Tony kept for his personal use. It was used quite often for Tony's tryst with casual girlfriends.

  Although Tony had tried everything to encourage Jimmy to go to college it didn’t work. Jimmy had his own plans. He intended to wait a few years after graduation from high school, live on his own and pay his own way. Then he would work his way into Tony’s business after it was accepted he wasn’t going to college. He stayed on the fringe of Tony’s dealings but kept track of everything as it happened. They often talked in depth about what was changing, who was moving up in the organization and the like. Clay suspected Tony already knew what Jimmy had in mind and had already accepted it.

  Chapter 3

  After parking his car in the lot behind the bar Clay entered through the back door. Although it was Sunday afternoon Jimmy and Tony were both there. Tony’s second in command, Joey Tadono was there too. Joey wasn’t as big as his boss, but was every bit as tough. He was in charge of collecting from the illegal portions of Tony’s business, and handled almost all of the muscle work.

  The “Twelfth Street Saloon” was located at the corner of Twelfth and Gerson on the north west corner of the intersection; a long, narrow two story brick building connected to others like it in one of the oldest parts of the city. Twelfth Street was lined with mostly red brick apartments and commercial buildings; many of the original businesses had given way to pawn shops, tattoo parlors, pizza restaurants, record stores and the like. Parallel parking on both sides of the one-way street left room for two narrow lanes of traffic.