The Silencer (The Silencer Series Book 1)

by Mike Ryan

  “How are you holding up?”

  “Pretty good. All the injuries have basically healed.”

  “Where you at these days?”

  “Cleveland,” Recker lied without the slightest bit of hesitation.

  “How’s the weather there?”

  “Harsh.”

  “I know you didn’t call to chat about the weather,” the man said. “What’s up?”

  “I need a favor.”

  “Another one? Already? After what I did for you in London?”

  “You owed me that one in London,” Recker replied.

  “Yeah I did. What do you need?”

  “Information.”

  “What kind?”

  “The kind you can’t get from a simple internet search through the white pages.”

  “Had a feeling.”

  “I need anything you can dig up on any NSA agents, consultants, anything that have left the agency over the past eight months or so.”

  “Looking for anything in particular?”

  “Yeah. If you see one from the Chicago area, that’s the one I’m interested in,” Recker told him.

  “What’s the connection?” the man wondered.

  “He might be able to help me in finding Agent Seventeen.”

  “I see six months hasn’t changed your appetite for that.”

  “Never.”

  “I’ll call you in a couple days with anything I come up with,” the man told him before hanging up.

  Recker got in his truck and drove down to the art museum, one of Philadelphia’s biggest tourist attractions. He parked on nearby Pennsylvania Avenue and walked over to the museum. The museum was famous for its steps. Used in the movie Rocky when the character ran up them, many visitors tried doing the same. Recker, not seeing Gibson at the bottom of the steps, walked up the steps to see if he was waiting by the entrance. He looked around for a few minutes but still didn’t see him. He went back down the steps about halfway then sat down on a ledge on the outer edge of the steps. About five minutes later, he noticed Gibson walking toward him.

  “Few minutes late,” Recker told him.

  “Traffic.”

  “So what’s up?” Recker asked, watching people walk past.

  “Jeremiah asked me to meet up with you.”

  “What for? He got my other merchandise?”

  “Nah, man, it’s not like that,” Gibson replied. “He’s a little worried about you.”

  “What for?”

  “Cause you’re a wildcard. You come in like some sort of badass buying guns, looking like you’re James Bond or something.”

  “I’m an unknown.”

  “Yeah. He wants to know what you’re up to and whose side you’re on.”

  “What I’m up to is my business. Whose side I’m on would depend on who we’re talking about,” Recker said.

  “Men like you don’t just pop up out of the blue usually, unless you were brought in by somebody.”

  “And Jeremiah thinks I’m here to start some type of turf war or something?”

  “I think he’s more worried about you being here to finish a turf war.”

  “Well, you can tell Jeremiah that I’m not. Wasn’t brought here by anybody and I’m not interested in whatever war he’s got going on. I’m not a player in it.”

  “Then why are you here?” Gibson wondered. “You obviously got something going on.”

  “Let’s just say I was brought in for security purposes for certain individuals…none of whom should be any concern to Jeremiah.”

  “I’ll let him know.”

  “That should put his mind at ease a little bit.”

  “Maybe. He hates new wrinkles though.”

  “Tell your boss I’m not one of them,” Recker stated.

  “Well, I’ll tell him, but he ain’t my boss.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “He asked me to talk to you. Figured you’d be more willing to talk to me than someone in his crew that you don’t know.”

  “Makes sense. If you don’t work for him, why you always seem to be around him?”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t work for him. I’ll do some jobs for him here and there but I ain’t part of his crew. I’m my own guy, do my own thing, sometimes I’ll do something for him if I need some bread real quick.”

  “Well if you’re not part of his crew, then maybe you can explain a few things for me.”

  “Depends,” Gibson said.

  “Tell me what all this stuff Jeremiah’s worried about is.”

  “I’ll break it down real quick for you. There’s three factions fighting for control of this city.”

  “I take it all of these factions are of the illegal variety.”

  “Depends on what you mean by illegal, man. There’s some cops in this city who are worse than the people they lock up.”

  Recker laughed. “What about these factions? I take it one of them is Jeremiah.”

  “Yeah. Jeremiah runs the north and west side of Philly. Vincent controls the northeast. Then there’s the Italians, they pretty much run downtown,” Gibson explained.

  “Who’s in charge of the Italians?”

  “Man named Marco Bellomi. Man, if you do get mixed up in any of this, stay clear of him.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Violent guy. Quick temper. Not somebody you wanna cross.”

  “How do you figure in all of this?” Recker asked.

  “I don’t.”

  “But you know all the players.”

  “Like I said, I’m my own guy. I’ve done work for Jeremiah. I’ve even had business with Vincent. I know of Bellomi by reputation.”

  “And these guys trust you? Enemies, fighting against each other, but they both employ the same guy.”

  “Listen, they both know I’m not spying for nobody, ain’t killing nobody, ain’t setting nobody up to get killed, nothin’ like that. I’ll do small jobs for them but I ain’t up in there business.”

  “So why is that?”

  “Why you wanting to know?”

  “You asked me a bunch of questions. Figured it was my turn. I’ve seen your file, no major arrests.”

  “How’d you get my file?” Gibson asked, surprised. “If you ain’t a cop, how’d you get that?”

  Recker smiled. “I have my ways. Listen, if I feel I can trust you, I may have some work for you in the future.”

  “If you mean snitchin’ on anybody, that won’t fly. I ain’t no snitch, man.”

  “Good. Don’t need one. Cops use snitches. Since I’m not one, got no use for it. I’m just talking if I ever need some information, you seem like you’re pretty well connected,” Recker said.

  “You mean for your security firm?” Gibson asked in an unconvinced tone.

  Recker looked over at him and laughed. “Yeah.”

  “I dunno, man, we’ll see. Depends on what you’re looking for.”

  “Well, when the time comes, I’ll let you know.”

  They sat there for a few minutes, neither saying anything, just watching the people go by. Finally, Recker opened up, intrigued by the underworld factions fighting for control of the city.

  “Tell me more about this upcoming war, what’s behind it?”

  “Same thing any war’s about. They want what they ain’t got, and more of what they do,” Gibson answered.

  “What about the players? Who you think has the upper hand?”

  “That’s a tough one, man. I don’t even know. They all got their pluses and minuses. Bellomi, he’s a shoot first, ask questions later type of guy. He don’t wait around for trouble to find him. He looks for it first. He even got an inkling of something bein’ up, you’re knee deep in it.”

  “What about the others?”

  “Jeremiah and Vincent are pretty similar, actually. Smart guys. They sit back, watch, observe, wait for the right opportunity, then they strike.”

  “They’re not impulsive.”

  “Nah. But they ain’t weak either. Do
n’t think they’re the kind of guys you wanna cross cause you don’t. Not unless you’re prepared to eat some lead. They don’t go looking for trouble, but they won’t back down from it neither.”

  “They’d rather fly under the radar,” Recker stated.

  “Yeah. That Bellomi, though, he’s a different type of cat all together. He don’t care about nothing. Don’t care if you know he did something, don’t care about nothing.”

  “So how’d you escape getting caught up in it?”

  “Whatcha mean?”

  “You say you’re a solo operator. How come you didn’t get recruited into one of their organizations?”

  “What, just cause I’m a black man from the streets, you think I gotta be caught up in a gang or something?”

  “No, cause you do business with all of them,” Recker responded.

  “Hey, I only do business with two of them. I don’t mess with Bellomi.”

  “So what’s your story?”

  “Whad’ya mean?”

  “Well, if you’re working with all these guys, then they obviously respect you enough to keep up with it. I’m sure they’ve tried recruiting you at some point. Why not fall in?”

  “Cause I like doing my own thing. Don’t have to answer to nobody, don’t have to follow nobody’s orders, just my own.”

  “And they’re OK with it.”

  “Like I said, I’ve built up trust with them. They know I’m not out to screw nobody. Just looking out for me.”

  “Got a family?”

  Gibson hesitated before answering, not sure if he wanted to reveal anything. “Yeah. Got my mom and a little brother.”

  “How they feel about what you do?”

  “Mom worries. But that’s what moms do, right?”

  Recker smiled. “Yeah. I guess so. What about your brother? He caught up in all this too?”

  “Nah. He’s only fifteen right now. In tenth grade.”

  “Let me guess, you’re supporting the family right now,” Recker assumed.

  “Yeah. It’s all good though.”

  “Hopefully your brother doesn’t follow your footsteps…no offense meant.”

  Gibson laughed. “You’re crazy, man, you know that?”

  “May have been told that once or twice before.”

  “Nah, my brother ain’t following my footsteps. He’s the reason I keep doing this.”

  “How’s that?”

  “My brother’s smart. Smarter than me. He loves reading, loves to learn, likes those graphic novel type books, you know what I mean?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I do what I do so I can get enough money to put him through college so he can make something out of himself, so he’s not on the streets hustling like the rest of us.”

  “Noble of you.”

  “Just looking out for my brother. He’s too nice for this type of stuff. Don’t got the personality for it.”

  “So how come you never went?”

  “Went where?” Gibson asked.

  “College.”

  “My mom barely had enough money to put food on the table, man. College was nothing but a dream for me. Didn’t have good enough grades for scholarships or nothing like that.”

  “What about a regular job?” Recker wondered.

  “What? Working at McDonald’s? Not for me, man, not for me.”

  “There’s other stuff. Construction, truck driver, warehouse…there’s other things.”

  “I dunno. Maybe. Not an option anymore. I’m already in what I’m in. And I’m gonna make sure my brother has enough money to go to whatever college he wants to go to.”

  “So that’s why you don’t get involved in anything heavy?”

  “I’m not getting involved in killing or robbin’ or any of that. My brother ain’t going to college if the money ain’t there. And it won’t be if I’m dead or locked up, know what I mean?”

  “You seem like a decent guy, Tyrell.”

  “I dunno about all that. I’m just looking out for me and my family.”

  The two continued sitting there, talking about various subjects, seemingly getting more at ease with each other as the minutes passed by. Both of them could tell that the other wasn’t there under false pretenses or trying to put something over on the other. Just two regular guys having a talk.

  “So you gonna tell me what you’re really here for?” Gibson asked. “Who you really are?”

  “I already did.”

  Gibson laughed. “Man, you ain’t told me nothing. Just ran around the subject a bunch of times.”

  “Can’t really tell you any more than I already have. For my protection…and for yours.”

  Gibson leaned back for a second, wondering what he meant by that. He thought he had it figured out though. “You on the run from somebody? Cops?”

  “Maybe someday I’ll tell you. For now, all you need to know is that I’m not in law enforcement, I’m not working for criminals, and I’m here to protect people,” Recker said.

  They talked for about five more minutes and then went their separate ways. Recker wanted to check back in on Hendricks. When she was on the night shift, she usually stopped by a diner and had lunch there before going off to work. If he timed it right, he could get there just a few minutes before she did. As he was driving, his phone rang. This time, it was the only other number that was in his phone.

  “What’s up, professor?” Recker sarcastically greeted.

  “Professor? You do realize who this is, right?” Jones replied.

  Recker chuckled, “yes, you don’t like your new nickname?”

  “I didn’t realize I had one.”

  “You kind of remind me of a professor.”

  “Are you insulting me?”

  “Of course not. I mean it in only the most positive ways and with the utmost respect.”

  “Hmm. Not sure I believe that.”

  “You’re kind of like a professor. You’re smart, seem to have all the answers, you even dress like one.”

  “Be that as it may, I was just calling to find out about your meeting with Mr. Gibson,” Jones said.

  “Oh. Went OK.”

  “What was he after?”

  “Seems as though there’s a turf war on the verge of happening. Jeremiah’s one of the players and wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to turn up on one of the other sides,” Recker answered.

  “Perhaps it would be wise to avoid all the players in this game for a while. I don’t think it’d be in our best interests to get mixed up in it.”

  “Well, I agree about not taking an interest in it, but we may not be able to avoid them all together.”

  “Why do you say that?” Jones wondered.

  “Well, that depends on where our cases take us, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

  “Plus, no matter what happens, it’s always beneficial to know the players in the game, even if you’re not in it.”

  “Why is that?”

  “What they do, at some point, even in a roundabout way, may have some consequence on what we’re doing,” Recker explained. “In any case, I’ll stay in contact with Gibson so we have ears on what’s going on. Plus, he may be someone we can turn to for information on the street if the need arises.”

  “It sounds as though you made a new friend. Are you sure you can trust him?”

  “Not yet. But I don’t think he’s a bad guy. He seems like someone who’s not interested in hurting or killing people. Just looking out for his family. Wants to send his younger brother to college to get him away from this life.”

  “Hmm, seems to be an honorable and worthy choice on his part.”

  “Yeah. I’ll tell you more about it when I get back to the office. Right now I’m on my way to the diner where Hendricks usually goes before work. I’ll tail her for a little bit before she goes in.”

  Recker arrived at Joe’s Diner, a little after noon, and was seated at a window booth near the rear of the establishment. He sat facing the
door so he could see Hendricks when she came in. He didn’t have much of a wait as she came walking in about ten minutes after he did. As soon as she walked in, Recker put his head down like he was looking at something on his table so she didn’t notice him. She was being walked to her own table when she noticed Recker sitting in the corner. Though she didn’t get a great look at the guy that intervened at the hospital, she recognized his haircut and coat. She also remembered seeing someone similar at the bar where the woman was attacked.

  “Actually, I see someone over there that I know, I’ll just sit with him,” Hendricks told the waitress.

  Recker kept his head down for a few minutes until he noticed someone sitting down across from him. Without picking his head up, he raised his eyebrows to see his visitor. Seeing it was Hendricks, he closed his eyes for a second, mad at himself for getting made.

  “Hi,” Recker said, pretending not to know who she was.

  “Hi,” she returned, flashing a smile.

  “Can I help you with anything?”

  “Yes, you can. You can tell me why you’re following me for starters.”

  Recker cleared his throat and then coughed as he stalled for a reason. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, ma’am.”

  “Is this how you really wanna do this?”

  “Do what?” Recker asked, pretending to be stupid about the subject.

  “The stupid act doesn’t suit you,” Hendricks told him.

  “It doesn’t, huh?”

  Hendricks shook her head. “No, it doesn’t.”

  Recker grabbed his drink off the table and took a sip of the soda. “So what can I do for you?”

  “You can tell me who you are and why you’re following me.”

  “Why would you think I’m following you?”

  “Let’s see…oh yes, you showed up at the hospital and beat up my ex. I couldn’t really see your face too well then, but I noticed the close shaved military haircut and nice trench coat of yours. Then there was some trouble at a bar a couple days ago where a woman was almost raped. Some guy in a trench coat saved her,” she explained, tilting her head and looking at his coat. “Kind of like yours.”

  Recker smiled. “A lot of guys wear trench coats.”

  “You know, I thought I saw a guy leave the bar a few minutes before that girl was attacked. I didn’t quite see his face, again, but his hairstyle reminded me of that guy at the hospital. Kind of like yours.”