Ionian Gangster Boy - Book 2

by Mikey Simpson

do now to get rid of our problems?’

  Morgan jumped into the conversation. ‘You mean who’s going to take care of me now!’ Morgan could sense that he might be in trouble and pulled out his pistol. ‘These Turks were friends of yours?’ he asked.

  ‘No not friends, but recommended hired help.’ the old man put out his hands, and gestured for the boy to calm down.

  ‘Recommended by who?’ Morgan asked.

  ‘Someone who has got his hands tied and wants to restore order to the island. An important man and someone who has helped me on occasion, to get me out of trouble with the authorities.’

  ‘I want his name!’ Morgan was tired of all the talking around the subject. He raised the pistol towards the old man.

  Stavros reacted by drawing his gun. ‘Wait! It would appear that I was wrong in contacting these people.

  ‘Damn right, these people knew who I was. They had orders to kill me!’ Morgan’s face was serious, and his visitors to the boat were starting to get anxious.

  ‘I had no idea that this was going to happen. I asked for help and thought this would be the right course of action to take. I didn’t want to get my hands dirty again! I’m too old for all this violence!’ Spiro turned his back on the boy and smoked his cigar. ‘His name is Osiris, and he is the Chief of Police.’

  Morgan reacted in shock. ‘He’s Police?’ the boys weapon dropped to his side, as the information sunk in.

  ‘That's right! That's how we have stayed one step ahead of the authorities!’ he looked sideways at Morgan.

  ‘Until now!’ the boy was shaken. ‘Fucking hell! Who can you trust on this god forsaken island!’ he held his head in his hands and tapped his head with his pistol, as he thought of what to do.

  ‘Trust no-one!’ Stavros replied as Spiro nodded in agreement.

  The boy stood and walked over to the cabin. A moment later he was leaving the boat with the Turks bags and his own as Spiro and Stavros watched. ‘What are you doing?’ Spiro shouted as Morgan jumped in the launch.

  ‘Looking out for myself!’

  ‘But it’s too dangerous for you to go back on your own!’ Spiro reasoned with the boy.

  ‘I’m over the too dangerous bit. It’s time I sorted this out and get to the bottom of things. It's time to find out who's really behind all of this!’ Morgan started the engine and turned the launch around, in the direction of Paleokastritsa.

  ‘What are we supposed to do?’

  ‘I don't know and don't care. Take the yacht do what you want with it, your other cargos below deck!’ he could hear them continue to shout until the noise of the engine drowned them out. He angled the boat inland and anchored in a tiny inlet south of the main bay. The grotto as the name suggested was a secluded inlet that had a bar and seating etched into the steep surrounding rock face. Here, the deep crystal clear azure water calmly lapped at the feet of sunbathers and swimmers as he moored his boat. He then struggled up the two hundred steps with heavy bags, as more tourists arrived to sample the unique atmosphere of the bar with its acoustic delight.

  At any other time, he would have loved nothing more than to stay there and mingle with the tourists. However today he had other plans, today he would start his fight back and his first step would be to secure a base. He called Haley as he wandered along the main coastal Paleokastritsa road. ‘You have any information for me?’

  ‘A lot of the mafia were recalled back to Italy last week, but some remain.’ Haley replied.

  ‘Are there any on the west coast?’ Morgan wanted to avoid places where he had previously been sighted.

  ‘Yes I was up there last week at a villa overlooking Glyfada.’

  ‘You doing anything tonight?’

  ‘Only the usual.’

  ‘Get yourself invited up there, I want you to introduce me to them!’

  ‘I can’t do that they will kill us both!’

  ‘Just get yourself up there and I will do the rest!’

  ‘OK’ Haley seemed unconvinced by his motives, but agreed.

  Morgan hailed the first taxi that approached. ‘Take me to Glyfada.’ he said as he bundled his odd shaped bags into the back of yet another taxicab.

  The taxi man was chatty and continuously talking about premiership football and the weather, about university life in Leeds and British girls. It did nothing to lift the dark cloud that hung over Morgan. He just stared at the road and noted landmarks as they zipped through the Ropa Valley. Half an hour later the cab veered off the main highway and weaved along narrow country roads. The taxi drove up a steep gradient to a summit, that would eventually spiral down to Glyfada Beach. Here at the summit Morgan exited the taxi and wandered along the roadside until he reached a peach coloured villa with a high wall and gate guarding the driveway. The property had a BPVR Ltd sign displayed nearby, his father’s signature villa company. He walked across the road and into some olive groves and found an elevated advantage position to spy from, here he waited and waited until a car pulled up and then entered the property. It was Haley dressed in a sexy red dress with handbag and a bottle of Bacardi.

  The Italian driver patted her on her bottom as he accompanied her into the villa where another two men came into view in the fading light. As evening fell, the lights went on, and Morgan could see that a party was going on in the rear of the property. It looked as if Haley was working harder than she had expected. The men were drunk and taking advantage of her skimpy dress. Dancing provocatively and slobbering over her figure. She was only just managing to keep them in line, but it wouldn’t last much longer. Morgan played out the scenario in his head and knew she was in danger of being raped.

  It was nightfall before he made his first target in the villas kitchen as lights went on. Morgan clung onto a branch high up in the olive groves and lined up the rifles sight. He studied his victims to make sure they deserved to be hunted, ticking off the evidence in his mind as he witnessed guns and knives pour out of their pockets onto the sturdy wooden table. He noted their uniforms of expensive jackets and trademark signs of chain smoking and heavy drinking associated with their profession. One after another they followed the girl into the kitchen to get more drink. They were like wolves ready to devour their victim, circling around the girl waiting to get their satisfaction and abuse her.

  Morgan had to act quickly if he wanted to stop all three of them in their tracks, he carefully listened to make sure the resort road was clear of traffic and pedestrians before squeezing the trigger three times in quick succession. The rifle jolted his shoulder and the sound of bullets sent the roosting birds scurrying amongst the olive grove. All bodies now lay on the Kitchen floor of the villa two cracked pains of glass the only sign of foul play. Morgan calmly placed his rifle away, walked across the road, opened the property’s gate and reclaimed the villa in his own name. On entering the property, he was slapped hard around the face by a hysterical Haley. She had tears streaming down her face. ‘Is there anyone else in the villa?’

  ‘You fucking bastard, you bring me here and then nearly kill me!’

  ‘Relax you haven’t a scratch on you.’ but she had blood splats on her cheek. He grabbed her by the arm to stop another blow.

  ‘I can’t believe they died so quickly, here one minute gone the ncxt!’ her hands were trembling.

  ‘They were animals and deserved it, they wouldn’t have thought twice about killing you!’

  ‘It’s carnage in there!’ her blood stained footprints made a trail back to the kitchen.

  He quickly dumped his bags and with his pistol at the ready, checked every room like the cops in movies covering each angle, finger on trigger ready to shoot anything that moved, thankfully there was no-one else to kill.

  Morgan returned to the ground floor and looked in on his victims. He poured two large Bacardi’s and called for Haley to come in. ‘You’re not so tough now!’ he said out loud to the ghosts of the fallen.

  ‘I thought you wanted me to introduce them to you?’ She asked before
gulping down her medicine.

  ‘You have!’ he looked at her and then prodded one of the men with his foot. ‘Who are they?’ he lit one of their cigarettes.

  ‘The man you prodded is Antonio. He is Roberto!’ she pointed to a handsome man propped up against the fridge.

  ‘And he?’ the last man who had half his head missing.

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve never seen him before!’ she ran off to the toilet and was violently sick, at what she had just seen.

  Morgan examined the corpses and piled up their effects in the middle of the kitchen table, then dragged the bodies out into the grounds and buried them with the aid of moonlight, replanting rose trees over their remains. It had been hard work and Haley had stood there supplying them with shots of Bacardi as sweat dripped onto his soiled clothes. When they returned inside, she cleaned up the blood whilst he rifled through their wallets for money and credit cards.

  As they sat and opened another bottle of Bacardi, Haley informed him that they worked for the Giovanni family based in Sorrento and Capri. They had influence in high places, especially now that literally all opposition had been wiped out in ‘The night of the long knives.’ That night judges, politicians, police officials and even Don’s had been murdered in cold blooded mafia style executions. He had heard this all before in the news flash earlier, but what he didn’t know was that the head of the family was Franco in his early forties had carved out