The Golden Goose of Los Angeles Extended Edition

by Travis Adams Irish

fitness shirt, brown khakis, and white running shoes; his short, salt and pepper hair barely out of place.

 

  As he steps further into the office toward the desk and looks over the men, Rory no longer feels awkward wearing a white undershirt, black khakis, and the old Italian leather shoes that Dimitri loaned him earlier. Behind the two men, the double doors are open and he can see Dimitri lying prone on the cement of balcony with a powerful, black .50 caliber sniper rifle pointed toward the front yard.

 

  “Hello, Rory,” Pezzloni says in a straight business voice, “we need to get you apprised to our situation. This gentleman here,” he continues in a respectful tone, patting the older man on his shoulder, “is Teddy The Suit. Teddy, this is the goose, Rory Chambers.” Anthony gestures lazily toward him and immediately moves on, rubbing his forehead with a look of strained malice. “I’m sure you heard the gunfire from the west side of the property?”

 

  When Rory nods, Pezzloni beckons him to join them behind the desk, and he steps carefully around the armchairs as he moves to Teddy’s left side and looks down at the computer monitor. The screen shows a colorful video of a young man in his twenties crouched with a rifle just a few feet in front of the security gate. His face is crisp and detailed from the high definition camera feed and Rory can clearly make out piercings in his: eyebrow, lip, nose, and ears. He has a red tribal tattoo covering his right arm and is dressed in simple, black carpenter jeans with an extra long, black dress shirt. His blue eyes are filled with hatred and he has long, dark hair that is pulled back into a tight ponytail and he is holding an AK-47 across his chest. There is a redheaded man standing next to him of about the same age, dressed in similar fashion, but without the piercings and tattoos. He is holding a pump shotgun, crouching and leaning against it to support his weight. In the corner of the video frame, two other pair of legs can be seen clad in the same carpenter jeans and what looks like combat boots.

 

  “Who are they?” Rory asks with confusion, feeling relieved not to see Chinese soldiers, or worse, standing at the gate.

 

  “That’s Eli The Whisper,” Pezzloni answers in a subdued voice. “Also known as Eli Pezzloni; my son.”

 

  “Your son?” Rory asks with confusion, looking down at the monitor again in earnest.

 

  “Yes, my son, the drug dealer; you got a problem with that?” Pezzloni snaps, glaring at Rory for half a second before putting the animal back into its cage.

 

  “What does he want?” Rory inquires as he sees Anthony relax a bit.

 

  “He wants you,” Teddy replies softly. “Someone out there has told Eli that The Golden Goose of Los Angeles is here, and he says he won’t leave until he has you.”

 

  An explosive shot shatters the silence in the office as Dimitri fires the .50 Caliber Rifle at the front gate. There is a rush of energy that flows in through the balcony doors as the blowback from the rifle sends a bullet down to the gate below at a speed that breaks the sound barrier.

 

  “Jesus Christ, Dimitri!” Pezzloni shouts as he turns and steps out to the balcony.

 

  Rory’s ears are ringing from the piercing blast of gunfire, and he instinctively covers his right ear for a moment, looking down at the video monitor to see the report of the rifle. However, by the time he recovers from the initial shock of the rifle going off, the men are nowhere to been seen on the large, colorful monitor.

 

  “Could you fucking warn us next time?” Pezzloni asks, shaking his head a bit from the intense ringing sound. “Did you get anything?” He asks Dimitri.

 

  “No, it hit too high.” Dimitri admits as he pulls back the bolt to release the empty round from the chamber, before chambering another round in the same motion.

 

  “No shit it hit too high,” Pezzloni replies, “the rounds aren’t going to drop at this distance; not with that velocity. I can’t believe you missed him… with a Barrett. Did you put the body armor on the dogs and let them into the tunnels?”

 

  “Yeah, the dogs are out in their Dragon Skin;” Dimitri says patiently, “I put their headgear on too.”

 

  “Your dogs have body armor?” Teddy asks, turning a bit in his chair with an amazed expression.

 

  “Yeah, my dogs have body armor and protective headgear.” Pezzloni says, turning a bit on the balcony, “It would take a fuckin’ bazooka to kill one of my dogs. Dimitri let them out into the tunnels. They can go in and out of the security gate with the electronic fobs on their collars, and each dog has a GPS chip, so we can track their movements. We also have tunnels inside the property so if Eli and his crew get over the fence, and start hefting their way up the hill, a dog can come out of nowhere and rip them to pieces. I hope they do, because my boys are hungry. Those dogs can eat like twenty pounds of meat in one sitting, between six of them.”

 

  “Have you tried talking to the kid?” Teddy asks sarcastically. “Or are you just going to feed him to the dogs?”

 

  “Easy, Teddy, you’re a guest here,” Pezzloni reminds him, pointing at the older man with the index and middle fingers of his right hand. “The kid has been trying to find the guy who killed his mother for years; I think it’s made him a little nuts.”

 

  “I’m just sayin’ that an uncomfortable conversation for an hour might, ya’ know,” he raises his hand a bit as if pleading for reason, “prevent five years of bloodshed and misery. C’mon, I mean this is Eli, we used to bounce him on our knees.”

 

  Their conversation is cut short as shots are fired one after another, and a bullet strikes the roof of the balcony above Anthony’s head.

 

  “This is bullshit!” Pezzloni shouts as he ducks behind the thick steel railing. “Those shots came from the driveway,” he says immediately, “Teddy, check the camera in the driveway and tell me where he’s at.”

 

  Teddy clicks on the laptop mouse pad a few times and brings up the view of the main courtyard showing the statue of Atlas under bright security lights.

 

  “There he is!” Teddy exclaims with excitement as he points to a figure in dark clothing, holding a pistol in front of him as if he were using it to pray. “He’s dug in behind the statue, sticking his head out the right side every second or two. We got you, you little fuckin’ fly- with your popgun.” He says with vengeful fervor and a deliberate smile.

 

  “Give me the fuckin’ Barrett!” Pezzloni demands in a whisper at Dimitri.

 

  In response to this order, Dimitri surrenders the large Barrett rifle to Anthony who holds it close to his chest, still crouched behind the railing and leaning back against the cold steel. He grips the rifle tight; his eyes filled with wild energy, and then stands proudly to his full height, turns calmly, and takes aim at the man in the courtyard.

 

  From inside the office, Rory watches the video monitor as the man exposes his head for a second. Rory’s face transforms to a look of surprise as the man’s features appear to be Chinese. A few seconds go by and the man’s head does not show up from behind the statue, but Pezzloni takes patient aim at his exposed leg and fires a shot that rips through the air again, shaking the office with a powerful boom. Rory keeps his hands over his ears as he watches the bottom of the man’s left leg disappear from behind the right side of the statue. This sight is sudden and gruesome, which causes him to turn away. When he recovers from the visual of instant mutilation, he looks back at the laptop and sees the man limping. However, a German Shepherd is sneaking up on him from his right side. As the shepherd’s body enters the light, Rory is amazed at how it looks simila
r to a hockey player with the black and white Dragon Skin padding and carbon fiber helmet. The dog doesn’t waste any time as it lunges and grabs the man’s right hand at the wrist, towing him to the ground and forcing him to drop the .45 caliber pistol. Another shepherd charges in with grace and stealth, putting its jaws over his throat and biting the jugular vein. Rory closes his eyes as the man’s body goes limp and the dogs continue to feast on him.

 

  “Got you.” Pezzloni says with a look of satisfaction, setting the rifle down where the railing meets to form a corner.

 

  “What the hell is that?” Rory asks with a confused expression as he steps out onto the balcony next to Anthony, staring down at a bright yellow flicker in the distance.

 

  “Motherfuck!” Pezzloni says with disgust as the yellow flicker becomes brighter and he can clearly see that it is a person running around, engulfed in flames, just inside the gate of his property. “Dammit, son, we don’t set people on fire; that’s just crossing the line,” he says with remorse, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his index and middle fingers. “Who did we send to the gate?” He asks Dimitri as he continues watching the man run and flail his arms.

 

  “Jackie. He was Vincent’s cousin,” Dimitri answers, swallowing hard and looking away.

 

  “You brutal little sonofabitch,” Pezzloni says in a flare of rage. “Where are you, Eli?” After a short pause, he turns toward Rory. “You’re welcome to leave if you want,” he begins, giving Rory a stern look, “but if you go beyond the safety of my gates, what happens to you from there is not