Reverse Metamorphosis book one of the Irrevocable Change trilogy

by R. E. Schobernd

  Three additional stolen cars had been waiting along the shoulder of the toll way for the escape vehicles to leave. As the assassin's vehicles made their way down the approach ramp the three drivers in the waiting cars pulled out onto the highway and fell in behind the three escape cars. All six vehicles began a four mile drive on the toll way to the next exit.

  At the sound of a siren all of the people in the six cars tensed as the drivers increased speed. A lone police cruiser had approached the ambush scene on routine patrol, saw the vehicles exiting the approach, and gave chase while calling on the police frequency for backup. The four mile run was made in just over two minutes by the high speed seven car parade.

  The three escape vehicles exited first with the tail cars close to them. The two rear cars occupied both exit lanes and came to a stop in the middle of the exit. The plan had been for both drivers to shut off the engine, pull the keys, lock the doors, and run to the car in front of them. Now, as the police cruiser stopped twenty feet behind the blocking cars, one of the drivers signaled to the other and both cars were put in reverse and accelerated backward into the front of the police car. The officer was just getting out of the cruiser as the two sedans plowed into his squad car. He was thrown backward by the open door and ended up on the ground by the wall of the exit, shaken but alive. The exit was securely plugged and no one could follow the four remaining vehicles. As they were leaving the exit all of the men involved in the ambush removed the ski mask and placed them in brown paper grocery bags.

  The four vehicles split up and drove at the speed limit for another twenty minutes by different routes to an old factory site where most of the out buildings had been demolished. The remaining building, along with most of the grounds, was being used to store wooden pallets. The newly fabricated pallets were kept inside while the older used ones were stored outside. A sliding door at the north end of the old soft brick structure was opened and all four vehicles were driven into the building between towering stacks of pallets. As the men got out of the vehicles they removed the gloves, caps and coveralls, tossing them back inside the vehicles. The car trunks were opened and five gallon cans of diesel fuel were placed there and in the passenger compartments. One of the men started a forklift and began pushing the tiers of pallets over and onto the four cars. Thirty plastic one gallon containers filled with diesel fuel were thrown up onto the pile of pallets. The men were loaded into the back of a waiting van truck which was driven outside the building before the big door was closed. Joey and one of the drivers began throwing incendiary grenades up onto the pallets; then both ran out the exit door as the first one exploded. As the truck carrying the eighteen men pulled off the property and onto the side street, slight wisps of smoke could be seen rising above the brick building out of broken windows and through holes in the deteriorated roof.

  While in the escape cars some of the men had engaged in nervous satirical and obscene comments about the shooting. Now, during the time spent quietly in the darkness of the van on the ride to the saloon, all were quiet and somber. After time to reflect on the recent events they were glad to be on the winning side; some felt compassion for the thirteen men and one woman they had just gunned down. But along with a sense of compassion was a rationalization of their right to defend their turf, jobs and livelihood. The truck, which proclaimed by the signs on each side to belong to an industrial uniform and laundry cleaning firm, was driven to the Twelfth Street Saloon and backed up to the rear entrance. Some of the men went into the main bar area, most went up the back stairway to the private rooms.

  Clay passed through the bar and crossed the street to a pay phone on the other side of the street. Inside the phone booth he dialed the number at Tony’s house, let the phone ring three times, hung up, redialed, again let the phone ring three times, and then hung up.

  Leaving the phone booth, he crossed the street and entered the bar. Going from man to man he quietly thanked each of the men in the crew for their efforts.

  Clay headed upstairs after telling Floyd, the evening bartender, to watch the men in the bar and listen for loose tongues, as some of them would surely drink too much.

  Upstairs, he went to each man, singly or in small groups to thank each of them for their role in avenging the shooting of Tony and their other friends. He shook each man’s hand and stated his personal thanks for their help. Leaving Joey till last, Clay asked him to accompany him into a separate room. Once the door was closed and they were alone he gave his approval of Joey’s performance in private. “Although we didn’t always see eye to eye on this operation, I thank you for your support and backing to accomplish what needed to be done. I couldn’t have done it without you; even with the help of all of the other men. I want you to know how much I appreciate all the effort you put into pulling this off.”

  Joey countered him by saying “Hey, I had a job to do and you had a job. At first I thought you were just a snot nosed kid who was a hanger on at Tony’s house and would just screw things up. But I was wrong. I still don’t feel like I know who you really are, or just what your future role here is, but I’ll give credit where credit is due; you put together a damn good plan and got the job done.”

  “Don’t be concerned about my future here” Clay counseled, “Because I don’t want a future role. I’ll stick around until Tony is able to take over and then I’ll go away. So relax, I’m not a threat to you now, nor will I be in the future.”

  “I appreciate you telling me, and I’ll approach all of the men again to insure your name is kept out of this. There’s no guarantee it won’t leak out, but I’ll try.”

  There was a knock on the door. When Joey answered, two of the men sent out earlier to deal with individual Russian gang members gave him a thumbs up sign and said all three of the men they had been assigned had been dealt with and disposed of.

  Joey went back to the other room with his men and Clay had two more hefty drinks of straight whiskey in private. The whole operation had been a roaring success, but he didn’t feel like celebrating any of it. People had died tonight, a lot of people. Even thought he knew they had instigated the fight the fact remained he was responsible for twenty two deaths tonight alone. After having time to reflect on the night’s happenings in the darkness of the truck ride from the pallet warehouse, he had a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach and it refused to go away.

  Joey came in twice to tell him other men had reported in with good news, until all had reported they were successful. Only the last hit had gotten messy. The target had sensed something was awry and had gotten off two shots at his attackers before he died. One of the men was hit in the right shoulder and was in the hospital. The dead man and his gun had been disposed of and the wounded man would claim he was walking home when he was shot without warning by someone in a passing car.

  Clay directed Joey to get the men out of the saloon and order them to go straight home to get some sleep. In the morning they were to get up and go to church with their families as usual. All had previously arranged for alibis to account for their time during the evening.

  By then he felt drained of energy and left the saloon. It was nearing midnight when he arrived at Anna’s house. After getting through the gates and talking to the guards he entered through the front door and found Anna. She had waited up to talk to him. She was wearing a pure white silk negligee with a white silk wrap over it. The contrast of the white silk against her olive skin was striking and dramatic. Her long hair was pulled back and secured in a bun; she still wore make up and looked beautiful even at this late hour. “It’s over” he told her, even though she had received his signal of success hours earlier. “Your parents and Tony’s mother will be able to return home tomorrow and all of you can now visit Tony.” He crossed over to the liquor cabinet off the living room and poured himself a half glass of bourbon.

  Anna came to stand in front of him, so close their bodies almost touched. Taking the glass from his hand she sipped the drink, and exhaled slowly before saying “Thank God it
’s over.” Handing the glass back to him she said “You had better get to bed; you’ve had a long and stressful day. I’ll thank you properly later.” She rose up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek and said “Thank you Clay; thank you for again being here when I needed you.” Anna turned, walked from the room, and he listened to her bare feet patting the oak stairway as she went upstairs.

  I don’t care if she is over forty years old; she is one good looking, sexy woman, he thought to himself. Clay felt a stirring in his crotch and instantly felt guilty for the thoughts he was having about Jimmy’s mother and Tony’s wife. He knew then the events of the day and the late hour were having their effect on him, so he poured some more bourbon, turned off the lights and as silently as he could went upstairs to his room.

  All of the parents were at the right end of the hall. His room was on the left, next to Anna and Tony’s room. He made his way to his assigned quarters as quietly as possible, entered the bathroom and started the water in the shower so it could warm while he undressed. As he began to relax, he realized just how tired he was. He hadn’t allowed himself to notice it before, because of the demands of overseeing the evening’s arrangements and waiting for the reports on the individual hits to come in. When he stepped into the shower stall the hot water hit his body with its full force; it felt as if all the stress accumulated over the last two weeks left his body like steam vapor leaving a pot of boiling water. He felt relaxed and calm for the first time since this duty had been thrust upon him. For ten minutes he stood with his head bowed, the water beating on his head and back, while he finished the whiskey. Taking the wash cloth and soap he scrubbed his entire body hard and vigorously, as if trying to remove a dirt and stench only he saw and smelled.

  After drying himself he brushed his teeth and went into the bed room. His bed covers had been turned back and he crawled in between the fresh clean white sheets to slowly drift off into a deep but troubled sleep.

  Twenty minutes later he awoke to the sensation of a cool, soft, naked body lying next to him under the covers. He slowly became aware of the touch of smooth, soft skin along the entire length of his body as he groggily struggled to grasp what was happening. In the moonlight coming through the uncovered window he recognized Anna’s face as she moved to hover above him. He felt her breasts against his chest and felt himself swell in response. Her makeup had been removed and her long dark hair was cascading straight down on each side of her face. He couldn’t determine if she was real, or if he was having a delicious dream. His next thought was if this is a dream, there’s going to be a hell of a mess in the sheets to clean up.

  She whispered softly “I owe you a great deal Clay, but tonight will even the debt. You will never speak of tonight to me or anyone else. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sure.” He was struggling to clear the fog of sleep and exhaustion from his mind, and was still having trouble focusing on what was happening since he had been awakened.

  Anna spread her legs to either side of his torso, slid up his body and pushed back on her outstretched arms until she was above him and looking down. She took his hands and placed one on her hip and one on her breast and said “What are you waiting for?” Reluctantly removing his hands, he leaned over to the bedside table and turned on the table lamp to better enjoy the vision before him. Returning his hands to their assigned positions he smiled in appreciation of the beautiful woman on top of him.

  Then there was no conversation between them; what little talking they did was to direct their partner into a preferred position, or to give verbal encouragement to the other to heighten their own sexual releases. Several times Anna slowed his pace, encouraging him to engage in prolonged foreplay past the point when he would have mounted her. He had never experienced a sustained sexual encounter of such intensity or duration and was in awe of this mature woman. Several hours before dawn both were satiated, sweaty and exhausted.

  Clay woke up at ten o’clock and reached out beside him. The bed was empty, as he knew it would be. “Christ” he muttered “what a night. What a woman.” He had never had sex with a woman more than three or four years older than him. He had been indoctrinated with the objective of scoring with younger women, not older women for Christ’s sake. Before last night he would never have dreamed of approaching a forty eight year old woman to have a sexual affair. Now he had to rethink all he had learned and had accepted about sex. The bedding was a wreck and he was sticky from the sweat induced during the couplings of the hours before dawn.

  And then the memory of last night’s killings crashed into his consciousness!

  My God, he said out loud. It went completely out of my mind until now. He rose and walked into the bathroom and relieved himself. Standing in front of the mirror above the washbowl, he studied himself but instead saw images of death. He pictured fourteen people being shot to death and their bodies burned to unrecognizable charred pieces of cooked meat. Leaning over the washbowl he splashed cold water up to his face and said out loud, I’ve got to come to terms with this before it drives me crazy.

  Later, after showering again, he dressed and went downstairs. Tony’s mother and Anna’s parents had left before dawn to visit Tony before returning home. Anna was dressed and in the breakfast room reading the Sunday morning paper. Her charcoal gray slacks with a crème colored long sleeved blouse make her appear as fresh and alert as always, although he knew she couldn’t have had more than three hours sleep the night before.

  “Good morning,” she greeted him cheerfully. “Sit here and read the paper while I fix you something to eat. Would you like breakfast or lunch?” After he opted for breakfast, she continued, “There’s an article on the front page about your handiwork last night. It says the police think it was gang related; aren’t they clever? Tony’s name was mentioned, and the article say’s he left the hospital last Friday, but no one knows where he is.” Then she added, “Reporters were here earlier but left when no one would talk to them or let them through the gate.”

  He resisted the urge to stare at Anna’s butt as she walked to the kitchen and instead began to read the paper’s feature article. There was a picture on the front page and several more toward the back of the paper. According to the article a group of rival gang members had shot Tony Giliano several weeks ago. Sources were quoted as saying the attackers had taken over his criminal holdings with little resistance. Last night unknown persons had ambushed the rival gang leaders and some of their underlings, killing all of them. Identification of the principal victims was tentative pending forensic test. The main article ended by stating the police had no clues and did not anticipate any imminent arrest; although, a large taskforce had been mobilized to investigate the matter and suspects would be brought in for questioning.

  There were associated articles from the mayor’s office, two state senators and several religious and civic group leaders condemning the violence and multiple murders, urging authorities to investigate the crime and bring charges against those responsible. Blah, blah, blah and more blah.

  Several prominent citizens had pledged to donate a total of fifty thousand dollars as a reward for information leading to the conviction of those responsible. Clay felt like an old west outlaw with a price on his head.

  Anna brought the food she had prepared into the room and Clay settled down to eat the sausage links, eggs, fried potato slices, toast, grapefruit juice and coffee. He had just about finished eating, when the door bell rang. He was surprised when he looked down the main hallway to see three older men standing at the front door; the guards were still on duty and had been instructed to hold all visitors at the gate until the main house was notified. Through the leaded glass door and side lights he could see they were all dressed in suits; they had probably come here after attending church with their families. Anna anticipated the question forming in his mind, and as she rose to answer the door said “Its alright, I’m expecting them. They’re the three syndicate boss’ of Chicago’s major families. I’ll handle it. You stay out of it un
less I or they call you. Do you understand?”

  Clay nodded his head in acceptance of her command and Anna turned to walk down the long hallway to the front entrance door. The doorbell rang again before she got there as the men grew impatient with being left to wait outside in the late July heat and humidity. Clay moved to a chair where he wouldn’t be seen from the hallway. He listened as Anna opened the door and greeted the men, welcoming them and ushering them into the formal living room. Clay thought he could guess the purpose of the visit from this group of men as he heard the doors to the living room being closed. Getting up from his chair, he moved down the hall way, looking to see if the men had left body guards stationed on the porch near the front doors. Not seeing anyone outside, he made his way to the dining room entrance and entered. The solid oak double sliding doors between the dining room and the living room were closed and he moved over to them. Lying on the floor he put his ear close to the space between the bottom of the doors and the carpet. The voices on the other side of the door were faint but clear.

  “O.K. Anna, enough small talk, let’s get down to business. You know all of us, and I suspect you fully understand why I called you this morning to arrange this meeting. While we are glad to hear Tony is safe and is recovering, we need assurance Tony’s control of his area is intact. And more importantly we need to know there will be no more mass executions committed in public. You’ve undoubtedly seen the morning papers and know the uproar caused by last night’s killings. Now, now Anna, don’t get riled up, we know you were justified because of the attack on Tony. We’re not saying you weren’t justified in taking these outsiders on; we just need assurance it’s finished and you won’t cause anymore publicity to harm the rest of us. Things have been relatively quiet in Chicago for the last fifteen years and the people won’t put up with continued violence of the magnitude seen last night. This kind of ambush hasn’t been done since the nineteen thirties and there can’t be anymore of it.”