by Jon Mills
“Nico, it’s Jack.”
“Holy crap, I thought you were dead.”
Nico Fontane was an old pal of his from New York. He was involved in all manner of racketeering along with loan sharking but it wasn’t what he did for a living that was of interest to Jack, it was his connections with other crime families across the states.
“Yeah, not yet.”
“I heard you did some time, got out and disappeared after the explosion at the Pigs Ear. You know there are still some folks around here that think you did it.”
He chuckled. “Like I would be foolish enough to kill my ex-boss.”
“That’s what I said, I mean, I might not have liked Gafino but loyalty means something.”
“That it does, Nico. That’s why I’m calling you. I’m in San Francisco at the moment and I need to get in touch with someone from the Marabelle family. You think you can arrange it?”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“Why, you thinking of joining them?”
“No, that life is behind me now, brother.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
Jack was curious to know what he meant. He hadn’t returned to New York in years and well, even though he had been in touch with a few close buddies of his, he didn’t know what some of the other crime families were saying about him.
“Don’t believe everything you hear.”
“Mikey Robertson said you were freelancing now. Working your way around the states doing jobs for folks. Putting those fine Butcher skills of yours to work. Is he right, Jack?”
“Does it matter?”
“To me?” He let out a chuckle. “No. But inquiring minds are curious.”
“Why, you thinking of getting out of the game?”
He heard Nico take a hard drag on a cigarette and blow out smoke. “Me, Jack? You know me better than that. This is where my bread and butter is made. I was born in these streets and I will die here. There is nothing beyond the city.”
“I used to think the same, Nico, but there is a big world out there. Good people too. You’d be surprised.”
“Jack, if you wrap shit up in a fancy bow, it’s still shit.”
That was the thing with those he knew back in New York. They really believed that nothing else existed outside the Big Apple. He’d grown up with these guys and knew each of them like the back of his hand. He knew who he could trust and those that would stab him in the back. That was rare in the crime syndicates.
“Look, will you do it for me?”
“Yeah, sure. What are friends for? But tell me, Jack, when are you coming back this way?”
“Why, you thinking of throwing me a welcome home party?”
“Something like that.”
Jack gave him his number at the hotel and told him to have them call him. With that said he hung up and went over to his bed and unzipped his duffel bag. He took out his Beretta 92FS and snatched up a magazine, slapped it in the bottom and racked it to put one in the chamber. After, he slipped on the safety. In the time it took Nico to get in contact with the syndicate, he had managed to take a shower and change into a fresh set of clothes. He was beginning to feel a lot more like himself. The drive had been taxing on him and with his work cut out for him, he figured he wasn’t going to get much sleep.
The phone began ringing. He went over and answered.
“Yeah?”
“Angelo Marabelle. He’ll meet you at a place called Premier22 on Market Street at six.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Oh, and Jack.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t forget to swing by if you are on the East Coast.”
“I might just do that.”
He hung up and glanced at the clock. It was a little after five. He looked up the location on his phone thinking it was either some swanky little restaurant or nightclub. His brow furrowed when he saw the words “gay sauna” listed below it.
He shook his head and chuckled. “You have got to be kidding me?”
He knew the mob had their hands in prostitution, bookmaking, bribery, narcotics and the restaurant business but saunas? That was a first. He had no beef with gays. Each to their own but he was liable to slap a few of them around if they tried anything.
It would take no more than twenty minutes to reach his destination, so he decided to use the next half hour to look up information on the Zodiac. He pulled out his laptop from his bag and slipped onto the bed and brought up a search engine. Jack typed in the name and a second later a list of results came back including recent news articles mentioning another video.
He clicked on the article.
BREAK THE ‘MURDER CODE’ AND BREAK THE CASE
The man claiming to have killed two San Francisco teenagers only one day ago is threatening to kill again if the police don’t crack a code that has remained unsolved for the past 48 years. The menacing message first appeared as a combination of unsigned letters mailed to the editors of the Chronicle, the Vallejo Times Herald and the San Francisco Examiner back in the late ’60s. The first 408 Cipher was cracked by a high school teacher but it was the next one, the 340 Cipher, that has never been solved. That cipher was supposed to contain the identity of the Zodiac. Just as he taunted and threatened the police and media back then, it’s being done again. This time the killer has sent out four new ciphers to the same three media outlets and the police challenging them to decode it. In his latest video he stated that each one would reveal the location of where he would strike next with the fourth providing a cipher key. Alternatively, if they can crack the 340 Cipher and reveal his true identity, he will hand himself in to the police.
The San Francisco police are taking this seriously and sources at the department say they have already assigned a task force to deal with the threat.
Already amateur sleuths, cryptologists and network security experts are coming forward offering their support. So far there has been no official update from the police on the case.
* * *
Jack watched the video again, then brought up an image of the 340 Cipher. It looked like complete gibberish. Best of luck solving that, he thought. He figured the guy would never reveal himself as that would have been too easy. The question was why toy with the police? And why had he focused his attention on Detective Nina Hudson? He remembered the name. The woman in the first video, the one running on the treadmill, was hard to identify. The video had been shot at a distance. It was grainy, dark, and it wasn’t easy to see her face, so Jack had done a search online and found the San Francisco police website.
You! His eyes narrowed as he focused on the photo of her.
It was the same woman he’d seen with an officer seven months ago.
This wasn’t good, nope, not all. He couldn’t afford to run into her unless of course she had a bad memory. But cops weren’t like that. They were in a job that relied on them remembering faces. He did a search on her to see what he could dig up. A long list of articles came up, some related to awards she’d won as a detective, others that had her listed as giving statements on cases, then there was a recent one mentioning that she had been taken ill and was currently in the UCSF Medical Center on Parnassus Avenue.
Jack pulled up notes on his laptop and jotted her name down and the location of the hospital. For some reason the killer was focusing in on her. The question was why?
He closed the laptop, sat there for a few seconds, then got up and snatched up his keys and jacket before heading out. It was a quarter to six.
As he made his way over to Premier22 through a stream of endless traffic, pedestrians filled up the sidewalks. Yellow cabs honked and weaved in and out like expert racing drivers. When he finally made it to the location, he swerved into a parking space outside the run-down, two-story tan building. There were sheets covering the nine windows at the front. At a glance it looked dismal. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he figured if the mob were involved there would have been at least a touch of class. Nope.
This looked like a seedy drug house in the middle of the worst neighborhood in Harlem.
Jack entered the building and was immediately greeted by an empty front desk. On the wall to the right was a list of services and the cost of entry. He rang the bell at the front and balked at the prices. $25 for a non-member, just to jump in a sauna? He shook his head as a grossly overweight man came to the front desk. He had a comb-over, and was chewing down on a greasy burger. Mustard dripped off his lip as he leaned against the counter for support.
“Can I help you?” He looked Jack up and down and got this glint in his eye.
“I’m here to see Angelo Marabelle.”
“He’s in the sauna. Will cost you $25.”
“Are you kidding?”
He grinned, flashing a dirty black tooth. “There are other ways of paying if you’re strapped for cash.” He licked his lips and Jack quickly fished into his pocket for some cash. He threw down forty and the guy scowled and handed back his change.
“The fifth door on the right. Be sure to take off your shoes on the way in and use the shower before you enter. There are towels on the counter.”
“I don’t plan on using them.”
“If you don’t strip, you don’t go in.”
“Fair enough.”
He pushed through a door into a cramped hallway and made his way down to a changing room on the left. There wasn’t much to it and certainly wasn’t any privacy. There were two other men inside, butt naked. The last time he’d been this uncomfortable was taking a shower in prison. He grabbed up a towel and waited until the other two men walked out before changing out of his clothes. He wrapped a towel around him and headed down to the showers. Steam was pouring out of the windowless room. Once again, the moment he entered he was faced with four other men who immediately looked him up and down like a slab of meat. He cleared his throat and turned on the faucet and tried to ignore the stares he was getting. He was about ready to knock some heads together if anyone touched him.
A muscle-bound guy moved in to say something to him, but he walked out before he could say a word. Jack wrapped the towel around his waist and located the fifth room on the right. He entered a room with double L-benches, all made from knotty cedar. There was one either side. There were two lights illuminating the inside and two guys inside with towels around their waists. Thank God for that, he thought as he closed the door behind him. One of the men poured water over hot stones in a corner. They hissed and steam rose up making it even harder to see inside.
“Angelo?”
“Mr. Winchester. Please, take a seat.”
Jack sat across from the two men. After a few seconds, the steam evaporated and he could see. Angelo had a tattoo of a dragon that went across his chest. He had a full head of styled hair and looked to be in his late forties. Beside him was a stocky-looking guy, about the same height as Jack, six foot two but far wider than him. He couldn’t tell where his neck ended and the muscle took over. It blended seamlessly making him look like an overly worked body builder.
“I appreciate you seeing me at such a short notice.”
“Anything for a friend. Nico told me a lot about you. Said you made quite a name for yourself back in the city. They called you the Butcher. Is it true you took out an entire crime family? Leo Carlone?”
Jack didn’t reply. His eyes bounced between the two of them.
“Is that what Nico said?”
“No, I heard it through the grapevine. People talk.”
He eyed them. Even though most crime families were respectful of one another, it didn’t take much for them to take offense. A wrong look. A wrong answer. No reply. It was a fine balancing act and one that Jack was all too familiar with.
“Shit happens.”
Angelo glanced at his muscle-bound buddy beside him and smirked.
“I like that. So tell me, how is New York?”
Jack relaxed and leaned back against the thick wood paneling that wrapped around the walls and covered the floor. “I don’t live there anymore.”
“So what brings you here?”
“A friend.”
He kept his replies short. Even back when he was working for Gafino, the less you said, the less chance there was of offending someone.
“Do I know them?”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t believe you would.”
“Then what can I do for you, Mr. Winchester?”
Chapter 8
A suffocating amount of steam filled every inch of the cramped room after Jack explained the situation. Angelo and his thug pal Vinny stared back at him with blank faces.
“The cops are crawling the streets. It’s not good for business, Angelo. All I am asking for is a little cooperation. The city is a big place, too vast for one man to cover. Now if I had a few of your guys banging on doors and asking around I’m sure we could unearth something.”
Angelo leaned forward resting his forearms on his thick thighs and clasped his hands together. “Let me get this right. You want me to help the police catch this lunatic?”
“No. The sooner you get this guy off the streets the sooner you can get back to business. Listen, Angelo, I worked for the better part of my life for Gafino. I know that more heat on the street, means less business.”
Angelo leaned back and stretched out his arms before opening his legs so Jack had a clear shot of his crotch. He was acting the way a lion might among a pride of lions. Angelo was hanging it all out there and letting him know through his body language that he was in control. This was his house, and he didn’t fear Jack one bit.
“Let me tell you something, Jack. My grandfather, and his father were running the streets at the time the real Zodiac was around. They conducted business and worked through it without a glitch. Now, if I go having my boys knocking on doors, it’s going to upset the relationships I have in place with other crime families. I can’t be doing that. So, unfortunately, I can’t help you. And besides, even if I could. What do we get out of it, huh? What do I get out of it?”
He opened his legs wider as if attempting to make a suggestion.
Jack stood up. “Then I thank you for your time.”
He turned to leave and Vinny rose and blocked his way. His huge form seemed even more domineering now that he was standing.
“Did I say you could leave?” Angelo muttered. “Sit down.”
Jack eyed Vinny with a look of disdain. He’d faced guys like him before. All brawn and no brains. They thought because they pumped iron every day it made them invincible. But that was just an illusion. It made them slow, and sloppy. Jack took a seat.
“Now you come into my house and you make a request and then walk out? Most people come bearing gifts, or at the bare minimum they offer to do something for me. You have done neither.”
Right then the door to the sauna opened, and another man walked in. He nodded towards Angelo and glanced at Jack.
“Louis.”
“Angelo.”
His face was familiar to Jack and for a second he couldn’t place him then it dawned on him, the spider tattoo on the side of his face, he remembered now where he’d seen him.
His mind flashed back seven months prior, to the last job he’d done. He entered an elevator on his way down from the apartment of the hit man. As he exited the elevator doors, he’d brushed past a man and glanced back at him. It was the same one. An associate? A friend of the guy he’d killed? Shit, the realization sank in that he’d offed a member of the mob, seven months ago.
The bald-headed individual took a seat beside him.
“Have we met?” Louis asked, casting him a sideways glance.
“I don’t believe so,” Jack said keeping his eyes fixed ahead on Angelo. If anyone was going to cause shit to go south, it was him. A flick of the eyes, a lift of a finger, every made man was different. Gafino only had to look at Jack back in the day when they had a guy in front of him that he wanted dead and he knew.
Angelo’s eyes bounced between the two of them.
> “Like I said, you don’t just walk in here and walk out without giving me something. So?”
Jack shook his head. “How much do you want?”
He burst out laughing. “You think I need money? Do I look like a bitch?”
Jack could feel the atmosphere inside shifting real quick. He was at a disadvantage for sure.
“Perhaps I can take care of some business for you,” Jack suggested.
Angelo eyed him. “Yeah. Yeah, I might just have just the job for you,” he said before pulling back his towel to expose his privates. “Now take care of business and then get the fuck out of here.”
Jack eyed Vinny and Louis. The cogs in his mind were already in motion. He was thinking of every action and reaction they might take. How many seconds to overpower them? What was the quickest way to paralyze them? He shook his head and rose. Almost immediately Vinny bounced up and threw a punch into his gut bringing him down to his knees.
Jack winced, clutching his stomach. The things he had to do to get people where he wanted. All three of them laughed as Angelo got up and grabbed a hold of Jack’s head pushing him closer towards his nasty crotch. “And when you’re done you can service Vinny and Louis.” They kept laughing. “The Butcher, more like the Bitch!” Angelo mocked him.
All the while Jack muttered to himself, counting down from three.
“Now I said—”
Before he finished spitting out the words, Jack threw a brutal uppercut right into Angelo’s nuts knocking his nutsack up into his body. His scream was deafening. A split second later he elbowed the side of Vinny’s knee behind him, causing him to buckle landing on top of Jack. With Angelo screaming in agony, Jack jerked his head back and latched onto Vinny’s ear with his teeth, tearing it off in one go. Meanwhile Louis was trying to get at him but with the room being so cramped, and Vinny on top, it was virtually impossible. Instead he tried to pull Vinny off leaving him exposed to an attack. Jack gripped his ankle and bucked Vinny onto him, knocking Louis down. Everything happened in a matter of seconds. Just a blur of movement. Acting fast, Jack rose, grabbed the towel Angelo had torn off and used it to pick up a handful of the hot stones. He threw them on top of the two men and then cracked his fist into Angelo’s jaw, temporarily knocking him out. The two men screamed in pain on the floor as he hopped over them and shouldered his way out of the sauna, making his way down the narrow corridor to collect his clothes. In all the commotion, several others exited saunas and saw him heading towards them. Jack thumbed over his shoulder. “You better get in there.”
