Page 100
Story: Wrapped in Silver
In one minute, I’m already up. I didn’t even have to take off my gloves. I’m careful to be light on my feet, despite the two bedrooms set up downstairs. I know how far footsteps can echo.
Sneaking up to the edge of the roof, I have a clear view of the Dall household. It brings back memories. Climbing her roof and scaring her senseless in her room. It was comically evil, and bittersweet, because I loved watching her sleep. I’m her underworld protector… And this is my final task.
I lean over the ledge and pull out the scope, then touch one finger to the silent radio button.
“In position,” I say.
“Copy,”Patrick’s voice comes through. “Package delivered three minutes ago. No sign of Ferraro or Nikolaj.”
“Copy.”
I sit patiently thinking of Quinn, whom I’m leaving behind. Will she forget me in a year’s time? She’s young and has a whole life to live.
Have you forgotten about your late family?
The answer is very clearlyno, which gives me hope I’ll be remembered.
Ridiculous that I’m worrying about legacy now of all times. The Valentinos will remember me for what I am—underground special forces of a different generation. I grew up in the mob’s golden years, but not for my family. The Valentinos had to scratch and scrounge for their food. Now it’stheirgolden years when I’m retired.
I huff.
Always seem to be off-rhythm with fate. Timing was only my specialty on jobs, not in life. What will it be like in the end? Will my vision go dark? Will I see my daughter again in the afterlife? That idea kept me sane for the longest time… but being so close to the end, I’m not sure. Especially for a man like me.
I’ve killed by the dozen. Even if my code is intact, the big boss up there might not see it that way. The other mobsters used to joke—when we die, hell is where the party will be, so don’t worry, boys.
I laugh at that. More than half of them bit the dust in gruesome ways. Maybe I’ll be playing poker alongside them with flames scorching my backside soon.
“Eyes up, Arosso,”Patrick’s voice comes through. “As predicted, both Nikolaj and Ferraro are walking quickly to a car. Brace for activity.”
“Copy.”
My heartrate slows as I’ve trained it to. Given the neighborhood is used to police presence surrounding the Dall house, having the cops show up shouldn’t cause a panic. I made a tactical wager that the crooked cops would be called here first. In case any nosey eyes wander, they’ll think it’s official police business.
I reach into the duffel bag and run through the photos John Scar dropped off to me. Black and white pictures of theofficers I’m looking for. My guess is they’ll be pulling up in unmarked cars mostly. Let’s see.
Vvvvssh!
An engine roars down the block with silent siren lights spinning.
That’s my cue.
Attaching the scope to the rifle, I drape a white cloth over me that’s the exact color of the snowy roof ledge.
The car screeches to a stop—double-parked—as a man with a scar on his cheek gets out, cigarette lit. That’s one of them. And I have a perfect shot to the head. If I was an amateur, I’d take it. But he’s just the bait. Need seven more to show up before I make any moves.
His partner exits the car next.
Six more.
They’re inspecting the house carefully since no lights are on. They’re wondering whether they’ve been duped.
Another unmarked car pulls on the side of the house—across the street from my stage home. Three more expected goons reveal themselves. It’s like gathering all the spies in one location. I’m doing the Jersey PD a massive service, here.
All for you, Quinn.
The last car shows up. Marked. I can’t get an ID on them because their hats are pulled low in their police uniforms. Only one is in a trench coat as a detective. Assuming it’s them, that accounts for all eight.
Ferraro and Nikolaj show up last in a tinted-out limo as the cops surround the house. Nikolaj gives the order, and two cops kick down the door. Ferraro and Nikolaj draw their weapons and head in after the two cops, as two others watch their backs, stepping in from behind them.
Sneaking up to the edge of the roof, I have a clear view of the Dall household. It brings back memories. Climbing her roof and scaring her senseless in her room. It was comically evil, and bittersweet, because I loved watching her sleep. I’m her underworld protector… And this is my final task.
I lean over the ledge and pull out the scope, then touch one finger to the silent radio button.
“In position,” I say.
“Copy,”Patrick’s voice comes through. “Package delivered three minutes ago. No sign of Ferraro or Nikolaj.”
“Copy.”
I sit patiently thinking of Quinn, whom I’m leaving behind. Will she forget me in a year’s time? She’s young and has a whole life to live.
Have you forgotten about your late family?
The answer is very clearlyno, which gives me hope I’ll be remembered.
Ridiculous that I’m worrying about legacy now of all times. The Valentinos will remember me for what I am—underground special forces of a different generation. I grew up in the mob’s golden years, but not for my family. The Valentinos had to scratch and scrounge for their food. Now it’stheirgolden years when I’m retired.
I huff.
Always seem to be off-rhythm with fate. Timing was only my specialty on jobs, not in life. What will it be like in the end? Will my vision go dark? Will I see my daughter again in the afterlife? That idea kept me sane for the longest time… but being so close to the end, I’m not sure. Especially for a man like me.
I’ve killed by the dozen. Even if my code is intact, the big boss up there might not see it that way. The other mobsters used to joke—when we die, hell is where the party will be, so don’t worry, boys.
I laugh at that. More than half of them bit the dust in gruesome ways. Maybe I’ll be playing poker alongside them with flames scorching my backside soon.
“Eyes up, Arosso,”Patrick’s voice comes through. “As predicted, both Nikolaj and Ferraro are walking quickly to a car. Brace for activity.”
“Copy.”
My heartrate slows as I’ve trained it to. Given the neighborhood is used to police presence surrounding the Dall house, having the cops show up shouldn’t cause a panic. I made a tactical wager that the crooked cops would be called here first. In case any nosey eyes wander, they’ll think it’s official police business.
I reach into the duffel bag and run through the photos John Scar dropped off to me. Black and white pictures of theofficers I’m looking for. My guess is they’ll be pulling up in unmarked cars mostly. Let’s see.
Vvvvssh!
An engine roars down the block with silent siren lights spinning.
That’s my cue.
Attaching the scope to the rifle, I drape a white cloth over me that’s the exact color of the snowy roof ledge.
The car screeches to a stop—double-parked—as a man with a scar on his cheek gets out, cigarette lit. That’s one of them. And I have a perfect shot to the head. If I was an amateur, I’d take it. But he’s just the bait. Need seven more to show up before I make any moves.
His partner exits the car next.
Six more.
They’re inspecting the house carefully since no lights are on. They’re wondering whether they’ve been duped.
Another unmarked car pulls on the side of the house—across the street from my stage home. Three more expected goons reveal themselves. It’s like gathering all the spies in one location. I’m doing the Jersey PD a massive service, here.
All for you, Quinn.
The last car shows up. Marked. I can’t get an ID on them because their hats are pulled low in their police uniforms. Only one is in a trench coat as a detective. Assuming it’s them, that accounts for all eight.
Ferraro and Nikolaj show up last in a tinted-out limo as the cops surround the house. Nikolaj gives the order, and two cops kick down the door. Ferraro and Nikolaj draw their weapons and head in after the two cops, as two others watch their backs, stepping in from behind them.
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