Blood on Blood

by Frank Zafiro

  He nods at me nice enough but holds up one very large hand as a stop sign.

  He leaves to check with Patrik and the other guy stays with me. Not quite as big as crew cut but definitely put together. His chin is up a little, he’s got an attitude. A jagged, rocky face. Definitely Eastern European. He doesn’t say a word just looks back down the dark hallway, but he keeps a parrot eye on me. Crew cut comes back quick, nodding his head yes to his buddy and we all do the escort thing down the hallway maze.

  Another guy walks toward us as we make the final corner that leads to Patrik’s office. Right away this guy gets my attention. Small wiry guy, ageless type. Could be thirty or fifty. You know, one of those guys. Age doesn’t really matter though, because he’s giving off that certain something that some do as he walks by. It’s like a ‘this is the day you’re gonna die’ feeling. Not him, you. Cops and criminals both know this vibe. It has nothing to do with big, strong, threats or ass kicking. He would have gotten Mick’s attention too, guarantee you that.

  He’s wasting no time, looking straight ahead and his eyes…shit, his eyes are just fucking dead. Black. No soul. Like a shark. Tough looking little fucker. Lethal.

  Could be a nobody, I suppose. Could be a soldier or a pissed off coke runner that just had to pay too much of his share. Could be somebody wanting in, or the fuck out, of Patrik’s organization. Who really knows, right? Then again, he might be the poor sap from the west coast who doesn’t know he’s being set-up to take the fall for this hit tomorrow. He did have the right eyes for that.

  We get to Patrik’s office and crew cut turns to me.

  “I will check you now.”

  “Say what?”

  “Put hands high in the air.”

  “I have a gun, but I have no wire.”

  “Of course you do. No problem, I will give back.”

  I’m really not liking this at all now, but the money at the end of this game is calling my name.

  I’m looking at him and he’s looking me.

  “Mister Jerzy? Hands high, please. Right now.”

  Ah, what the fuck. If this wasn’t Ambrozy’s though, no fuckin’ way do I do this.

  “Sure thing, but watch the patting down. Don’t get me excited okay? Always had a thing for crew cuts.”

  It’s a waste of a good smart ass line on this guy, who doesn’t get it, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Good. Yes, that’s good. Mr. Dudek’s orders.”

  He knows what he’s doing and does a pretty damn good check for a wire, considering he’s got hands like bear paws. Takes my Beretta and steps away.

  Then he knocks on the door twice and says in a deep voice, “Patrik, Sawyer jest tutaj.”

  “Wchodza.”

  There’s a long buzzing and the door makes a heavy thwack sound.

  Crew cut opens the door and stands to the side.

  Patrik Dudek is sitting behind his desk and he ain’t smiling. All business. There will be no shits, grins and Belvedere this time but a half bottle of Makers Mark was in front of him. So, I mean hey, that works.

  “Jerz! Come in here and drink with me.”

  I smile at him and light a cigarette.

  “Can’t do it, Patrik. I only drink with friends.”

  “Haaa!” He stands and comes around the desk chuckling but there is no happy shit in this room.

  I hold my lighter up.

  “I can’t believe he let me keep this. And I want my fuckin’ gun back too. What is with this code red airport security bullshit? Am I getting on a Polskie Jet here or what?”

  Patrik shakes his head back and forth, wags his finger at me.

  “I mean, I’m gone a couple days and this place has turned into some kind of fortress.”

  “Ah Jerz, you have always been funny. I love you for that.”

  He gives me the hug and points to a chair.

  “These are dangerous times, my old friend.” He looks pale and haggard.

  Every time I sit down with Patrik, we seem to get stone drunk and smoke a fucking carton of cigarettes.

  Except this time. This time, we sip slow and careful because there is some very serious shit that needs to be gone over. After about twenty minutes of the normal casual fluff, he gets that spooky ass look in his eyes. The look that I just can’t and won’t ever trust.

  “So. Jerz. We must talk very seriously. I called you and said our timeframe is shorter than expected. We have to move even quicker than what we thought.”

  “Old Viktor ain’t fucking around, huh?”

  “Viktor Skansi has come to get his business back and he wants belated revenge for his son, Bogdan. He doesn’t know that you did his son, might not know you at all, but he knows we did it.” He stabs his chest with a finger.

  “Fuck that old Russian dog and his dead son.”

  “Agreed, but we’ve heard things the last few days. Things that suggest we need to act very quickly, before they get us. Before they get me. It has come to a boil. I lost two more good men last night while they were sitting in their car doing surveillance. They had been checking on who was coming and going at a tea room on Division. Some of Skansi’s top men were meeting.”

  “Are they coming for you, Patrik?”

  Patrik ignores my question. “Time is short. We hit him now.” He holds up his index finger. “Hit him, that is the key. The head of the snake, no?”

  “So, give me this plan for tomorrow or I’ll go on my own again and whack the old fucker tonight.” I smile at him but he doesn’t smile back.

  “Jerz, this is serious. This is very dangerous thing. We both could get killed tonight, tomorrow or the next day. In different ways, but we both could go down. Rozumieja?”

  “C’mon, of course I understand. It’s me here, Patrik. I ain’t some stupid ass kid. I just hate those fuckers, that’s all.”

  “As do I, my friend. But this won’t be like hitting his crazy ass son.”

  “I’m a big boy, Patrik. Don’t worry about this. It’ll get done, just tell me the deal.”

  He pours another couple of fingers for me and puts out his cigarette. “Okay, so then. Do you know Smith Park?

  “Sure, yeah. West Side. Where they always hold the Ukrainian Festival in August. Over on Grand Avenue, couple blocks south of Chicago Av.”

  “Yes. That is the place. Lots of trees, hedges and walking paths. When Viktor Skansi moved back here, we didn’t know where he was at first, but have found out he’s staying at his oldest daughter’s house on Northwestern.”

  “I think I know that house, too. The one Bogdan lived in for awhile, before I shot his ass, that is.”

  “Yes.”

  “A few blocks away from the park.”

  “Yes. Almost every evening since he got back, he goes for a walk with his wife in that park. We have watched them for two weeks. Six o’clock sharp. This time of year the sun has gone down but there is still light.”

  “So that’s the where and the when, right?”

  “Yes, we have decided to do this.”

  “First, there is no we. I’m doing it. Which means, there is no try to it. Done deal. Count it.”

  “I appreciate your confidence and tenacity, Jerz, but keep listening to what I tell you.”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll shut the fuck up for a second.”

  “The old man is never alone. Never. This evening walk, only fifteen minutes or so, is lightly guarded, though. I think he wants it that way. It’s an escape outside for him and he feels safe in the Ukrainian neighborhood, of course. It is our best bet for this.”

  His eyes bore into me even more now.

  “One man walks with them about twenty feet in front and one man walks in back about the same distance. Another man is stationed in the middle of the park at the fountain, where the walking paths meet and circle around it. Like spokes on a wheel. Small park, but many trees and shrubs.”

  He lights another cigarette and keeps going. I keep quiet.

  “They walk slow. They are old. The wife, sh
e is in a wheelchair. Has been for five or six years now and she cannot stand up at all as far as we know. You will have two men at your disposal. Utilize and position them however you wish. Skansi enters from the east side of park, circles the fountain and then heads back to the car at same place he came in.” He stares at me for a second, then asks, “So, Jerz, any questions yet?”

  “I don’t want help, Patrik. I work best alone and they’ll fuck it up for sure. No two men.”

  He bangs his fist on the table right out of the blue. Surprises me, but I try not to show it.

  “NO! Not this time, my friend. You will have my two best. Very loyal, very professional and they will do exactly what you tell them. This will not be negotiated between you and I. They might very well save your ass. Make no mistake, if necessary, they will die to make sure you accomplish this.”

  He unclenches his fist and reaches for the glass in front of him. He takes the last sip and I notice his hand is shaking. I stare at him for a moment longer. “Okay, Patrik. We’ll play it your way. I don’t like it, but okay.”

  “Good.” His voice is calmer now, but no less intense. “Now, these two men will meet you at the Marriott Courtyard at West Division and Kedzie. It’s ten minutes from the park. Noon, in the lobby. In their room, you can discuss in more detail how this will go down. They will have a gun that you will use and then discard. They have a map of the park and surrounding streets and alleys, like this one.”

  He pulls open a drawer and slides out a folded map, then hands it to me. “They will do exactly what you say, Jerz. Good men. One of them, Andros, he let you in here today. The other, Dobry, almost as good and just as loyal.”

  He stands now and walks around to me, then leans against his desk and crosses his arms.

  “I’m as tired of talking as you are tired of listening, eh? The plan itself, how you do it, how you kill him, that is your design. I wish you luck, my przyjaciel.”

  I stand up and we do the hug.

  “Patrik, easy. It’ll be a walk in the park.”

  This time there is a little smile from him.

  “That was a really bad joke, Jerz. Even I think that one was bad.”

  “Yeah, well, I couldn’t help it. Hey, just a couple of quick last questions though.”

  “Sure.”

  “Nobody is off limits here, right? The old lady, you don’t have a problem, right?”

  “There should be no witnesses. No one is off limits. Period.” He’s staring a hole through me as he says it.

  “Okay, got it. What about the poor bastard who is going to go down for this in my place? Is he here and will you just give him up to the Russians or what?”

  “He is here in Chicago and people know he’s with us, but not exactly what for, of course. He is waiting for what he thinks will take place early next week. After the hit tomorrow evening, the hotel where he is staying will be leaked. He’s dead already. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

  “Hopefully he’s not waiting it out at the Marriott Courtyard.”

  Patrik liked that one better and I got a laugh out of him. “Ha! Just like you to think of that. No, he is not at that location.”

  I decide not to ask about the guy in the hallway, though. It probably was the fall guy but better to just tuck that one away for now.

  “All right, well, last thing, I guess. Since you won’t be paying the guy from the west coast, you can pay me. Where and when will that little transaction take place?”

  Another soft chuckle from Patrik.

  “Ah yes, I almost forgot. My men will have the two hundred thousand dollars for you in the hotel room tomorrow at noon. All in one hundred dollar bills. You can stay in that room for a week afterward if you want to. It will be prepaid and my men will no longer be there.

  “Patrik, I think that’s all I need. I’m good to go.”

  “One more small drink, Jerz. We will toast our long friendship, partnership, eliminating our enemies and money.”

  He gurgles some more Makers into our glasses.

  “Oh! And to women, huh? I will let your Ania off earlier than ten tonight but have fun early — you need your rest.”

  I laugh and he laughs.

  I look at him and drink and he does the same.

  This is what I don’t like with the woman thing. I don’t like being predictable and dependant. Having people know everything about what I’m doing.

  We laugh one more time.

  And once again, I’m thinking that Patrik is one of those guys you just don’t want to be playing with. Playing for or against. But I guess for is better.

  SIXTEEN

  Mick

  Morning light streamed in through the east window and splashed across Connie’s sleeping face. Her hair was snarled up like a dirty bird nest on the pillow and across her eyes. She let out little wheezy snores through her mouth, which hung open like she was surprised at something. She lay on her stomach. The blanket only covered her from the waist down, so I could see the ugly bruises on her kidney. A shadow of another bruise was barely visible on her mashed breast.

  I sat in a chair near the bed, looking at her. I tried to conjure up whatever those feelings had been just a few short days ago, before Steve came back. Before the old man died. Before Jerzy and these fucking diamonds came along.

  Only I didn’t feel that way about the diamonds. They were what I was hungry for, in a way I used to hunger for Connie.

  I stared down at her tousled hair and parted lips and felt…nothing.

  Almost nothing.

  It hadn’t been that way last night. Once I got back to the apartment, she’d blubbered out the tale of Steve getting drunk and gambling away most of his pay. That’d given him a reason to get even more drunk. When she asked him about it, he threw her a beating.

  Smart, though. Even for a drunk loser. He hit her where it would hurt, but not show. At least, not in public. And the kind of women Steve chose were the kind who wouldn’t be telling anyone in public about an ass-kicking. Maybe not anyone at all. They were the kind who would wait with bated breath for him to come around with flowers and a sheepish apology. Make them feel special.

  After she showed me the bruises and cried some more, things shifted gears. She went from wanting comfort to wanting me. At first, I didn’t have a ton of interest. I figured, why buy into problems I don’t need? Especially now. She’d just go back to him when he decided to apologize. Or when he rolled back into town again with another thick wad of pay in his pocket.

  But I let it happen. In fact, I plowed right into it with vigor. That sparked her even more. She was a frantic wildcat and we summarily fucked each other’s lights out.

  But it wasn’t her face I saw.

  It was Ania’s.

  In the dim light of my apartment last night, it had been easy for that fantasy to take hold. Now, in the hard, bright light of morning, I saw Connie for who she was.

  Nothing special. Not the someone I thought I might be able to make something with. Just Connie.

  And trouble.

  If I was Jerzy, I’d probably just shrug it away. Tell Connie to fuck off and solve her own problems. Then go find Ania and get busy in that direction. And I had to admit, that sounded like a great solution, but there was something stopping me.

  Call it conscience, call it duty, call it a sense of honor, but I always believed it’s the only thing that separates us from the goddamn animals. If I’d told Connie to get out of my apartment as soon as I walked in last night, I might be able to live with that. But once I bedded her? Well, that was like the consecration of an unspoken promise.

  Wasn’t it?

  The coffeemaker gurgled across the room in my tiny kitchen. I got up and walked over to get a cup. As I poured, I wished for the thousandth time that I had Jerzy’s sense of the world. He was his father’s son and I was my mother’s son, and that was that. Did it make me weaker than him? Better than him? Or just different?

  Without really thinking about it, I reached for a second cup and
set it beside the coffee pot. Connie would be awake soon.

  In for a penny, in for a pound.

  Goddamn it.

  I sat down to drink my coffee. After a minute or two, I turned my chair away from the bed and toward the morning light. The bright dawn washed over my face with a brittle warmth. I soaked it in.

  I sat there until my cup was almost empty, then heard a rustle behind me. A few moments later, her hand settled on my shoulder. Her cheek pressed against mine from behind. I smelled her sour breath when she spoke.

  “Hey, lover,” she rasped.

  “There’s coffee,” I said.

  She kissed my neck, then sauntered over to the counter. One of my shirts now hung down past her waist and cover the top of her ass.. I watched her pour a cup. I thought I’d never get tired of that body, but the curve of her hip and the way her thighs tapered toward her knees didn’t have the same pull it did just a short time ago. My eyes were drawn up to where my shirt covered the splotched bruising just above her waist.

  Connie finished pouring and turned around. She sipped her coffee, giving me a playful look over the brim of the cup. It was part romantic, part lustful and two weeks ago, it would have pulled me in with the gravitational force of a collapsing star.

  This morning, though?

  It made me sigh.

  Connie’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong, baby?”

  I shook my head. “Don’t call me that.”

  She walked purposefully toward me, putting just the slightest sway into each step. “What’s wrong?” she repeated.

  I leaned down and set my cup on the floor. Then I looked up at her. “I can’t do this, Connie.”

  “Can’t what?”

  “Do. This.”

  She pressed her lips together, anger and pride flashing across her features. She took a drink of her coffee, then looked down at it like she was considering throwing the entire cup in my face.

  “You didn’t seem to have any problem last night,” she said, an edge creeping into her voice.

  Yeah, I thought. But I wasn’t fucking you. Not really.

  “You came here,” I said instead. “You were the one who came here.”

  She scowled at me. “It takes two to tango, Mick.”