The Chevy Biscayne was a rusty piece of crap, the original red paint long faded to a pinky tan, the gray interior hanging on for dear life. Under the hood, a big block rumbled quietly, music to the ears of the driver who had run her well past her best before date. A souvenir of his first job. He himself was a grizzled veteran of the gun wars that plagued this city, buzz cut square and gray, stub of a thick cigar jammed between his lips.
He drove, if only because the car was as old and cranky as he was, and only he understood her. Riding shotgun was the kid, a young gun fully immersed in the modernity of life, completely focused on the latest smart phone in his lap. He sat there, completely oblivious to everything and everyone around him.
“I’m tellin’ ya kid, you can’t make it in this racket if the idea of killing someone makes you nervous. I’m good at it because I don’t hesitate. Most guys don’t have what it takes to pull a trigger, especially if it’s someone they know. They hesitate for a split second and it’s over. Boom dead next guy. You don’t want to be that next guy, trust me.”
He glanced over at his passenger, grimaced, and continued with the lecture.
“This is a business, and if that’s what the business requires, so be it. You take the contract, do it right first time, period.”
Still no response from the kid. He took a long drag on the cigar, inhaled its sweet perfume, and exhaled long and hard. It felt good, even though the cancer was slowly killing him; he had a contract and he was going to complete it. Boom dead.
“I’m telling ya, the older you get the deadlier you have to be, so use your age to advantage. You make it a strength. Most of us are more dangerous the longer we live. If we didn’t care about dying when we were younger, we’re not gonna get upset when we’re standing over our grave.”
Another glance, another grimace. The kid clearly wasn’t interested. He continued.
“This is the way it is, kid, you listening to me? Look, you can blow shit up or whatever the hell it is your doing another time. Right now we got more important things to discuss, okay?”
The kid looked up long enough to give him that look, and then returned to his lap. It was going to be that kind of a day, again.
“Don’t gimme that look, you wanted in to this business, you’re in, but now you gotta learn.”
Nothing. The kid continued to stare at his lap like he was arming a nuclear weapon and he was one code way from launch.
“Hey, you look at me like that again and I’ll smack you silly, no disrespect to your old man. That’s why you’re here, remember, he wanted one last favour and he called me on it. So I’m doing the favour, least you can do is make use of it.”
That brought the curl of a smile to the kid’s lips. The driver kept up with his dialogue, determined to satisfy himself that he had at least tried to fulfill his commitment.
“Like I was saying, the only mistake you can make, the only one more dangerous than killing the wrong guy, is not wanting to kill the next one. That’s when you know you’re done. Me, I ain’t done, not by a long shot. Yeah, I’m getting up there a little but I can still do it, still got what it takes.”
He smiled hard, priding himself on being the old guy with the fearsome reputation, and underworld contacts that would turn a DA green with envy.
“For me, it’s not about age, it’s all about technique and finesse and doing your homework and all that good stuff. Get up close and personal with your guy, make sure the hit is quick and clean, no witnesses, no evidence, nothing.
Just last month I popped a guy right in his own bedroom, you remember? Poor schmuck was all asleep with the missus and the dog and I just walked in, popped him, and left. I didn’t like doing that to her, but its business, you do what you gotta.
I’m old school. I like to do my homework first, find out all the who’s and the what’s and the wherefores. I like paper, none of this email or texting crap. I want to feel what I’m doing, look at him long and hard, get inside his head a little, follow him around, see what he does. He goes to the club for a drink I want to sit beside him, he plays golf I want to tee off right behind him.
That’s what I look for, that one moment when he’s completely relaxed. As long as he does what he’s supposed to I can stand right beside him and he won’t think twice about it. Then I got him, boom dead.”
Like now, he thought to himself, I’ve got a hit I’ve been working on for a couple weeks. I know his likes, his dislikes, where he goes, who he sees, all that good stuff. I know exactly who he is and how operates, when to fulfill my contract.
I don’t work for any one guy anymore, I used to but he passed on and his son took over. Didn’t have any use for old-timers like me so he gave me the big kiss off and a couple grand for my trouble. A going away present he called it, the start of your retirement fund, an insult I called it. A couple days later they found him in his old man’s sauna, cooked like a Christmas turkey, stuffed with lead. Not saying I had anything to do with it, I had plenty of cause, but it’s part of my code, nothing personal, just business.
And if that isn’t enough I got this kid with me, all full of himself and all this technology crap, the way of the future, he calls it. Why spend all that time running around talking to people, staking out joints, tailing a car, when you can do the whole thing from the comfort of your living room he says. He even showed it to me once, tracking down some guy just for the hell of it he said, some loser stockbroker that owed him money.
The kid’s a favour, I knew his old man from way back. We crashed the party in Iraq, I was an Army shooter and he was my spotter. We did pretty good, popping whatever moved, keeping their heads down so our guys could move in and finish the job. Seems we did too good, we got sent home early. Guess the Army didn’t want to explain why so many top guys were dead and not prisoners.
Swear to god, we weren’t off the boat five minutes before a couple of suits pick us up and we’re eating cannelloni with some Don character. Says he’d an admirer of our work. Lays out a couple grand each, and before you know it, we’re popping guys in downtown New York City. Helluva thing.
I tried the rifle thing a few times but it didn’t work out too good. It takes time to set up a shoot, and even more time to break everything down and get away. In Iraq, we had all kinds of time, and the Air Cav to back us up, here things moved more quickly. Couple times we had to drop everything and run for it. That got expensive, so I switched to something small and silenced. Truth be told, up close and personal was more of a challenge, more of a dare. I liked that.
Things went okay for a while, then Charlie met a dame and up and married her and had a couple kids. I was okay with that until he stroked out one day leaving Madge and the kids with bills to pay and no money coming in. They moved out west to her family, I thought I was done with them until this kid shows up with a long-ago letter from his old man. When the time comes, can I take him under my wing, show him what I do, blah blah blah.
So, what do you know about your old man I ask, oh I know plenty, he says. Pop told me all about you two in Iraq, and how you two freelanced when you got back. You know about that, I asked. Oh yeah, we talked about it all the time, me and him, but Mom never knew. She thought all that cash was an extra pension Pop was getting from the Army.
I had to smile, maybe feel a little proud, the kid was going to follow in his old mans footsteps, and I was going to show him how. Felt kinda good, but that lasted all of a day. I mean the kid was good, don’t me wrong, took him out to the range and watched him center every target up to 100 feet with a Glock. A natural maybe, but he figured he knew everything already. Couldn’t wait to get started, figured popping people was some kinda game.
So, we’re sitting in a car the two of us, watching some joe blow drycleaner close up shop and go home. Been doing this for a week, picking up on his routine, looking for the right time and place. What’s the kid doing, he’s got his head buried in his lap, playing some damn game or other. I give him a nudge, he perks up, pays attention for once.
“Hey, we’re trying to learn something here, you finally paying attention, you listening to me for once?”
“Yeah, I told you, I got this, there’s our guy.”
“You been watchin’ what he does? I’m thinkin’ we gotta move on him soon.”
“Been there, done that.” He got out of the car, walked over to him and popped him right then and there, under a streetlight no less. Strolled back like he was out on the town with his best girl, not a care in the world. Idiot!
“Happy now,” he said, with that damn goofy grin of his. “I took him out. We good now?” I gave him a look, like he’d just killed my mother, god rest her soul.
“The hell’s wrong with you, you can’t just show up and shoot somebody! Suppose there’d been a cop around the corner or some boozer looking through cans, they could have made you, maybe even got you arrested! Don’t do that, it’s not a smart idea, stick to the plan!”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know, stick to the plan and get your man. I know all that but it takes too long, my way is faster. Look, I got him, we get paid, what’s the big deal?”
“What the hell you talking about?”
“I’ve been tracking him all week, online, I know everything there is to know about him, what colour socks he wears, white by the way, Hanes. Where he shops, the A & P around the corner. How much he owes Vinnie. He’s the one paying us, right, so we go see him now, load up on some cash? I got hot date and I need a little spreading around money, know what I mean. The more I got the more I get.” He smiled at the thought. “Let’s go see the Vinman.”
I wasn’t impressed with the attitude, it was insulting to me, and it was hard not to take offense. But I knew not to, and why.
“That’s correct, Vincent is the one paying us for our services, but it’s not something you want tell anybody, alright? Vincent’s old school, last of his kind, kinda like me. He wants he gets, that means we give him the full monte, stakeout, tail, habits, who he sees, all that stuff. It’s a lot of work but it’s what you gotta do to make the man happy. He favours us with his business, he gets, capisce?”
“Yeah I know, but what I’m saying is you don’t need to sit in a car for a week or bribe his landlady or grab his mail, everything’s online these days.”
“Everything?”
“Everything, security cameras, financial statements, parking tickets, the works. All you got to do is sit down for a couple hours, fire up a laptop and you can be reading his emails in the comfort of your own living room. Hell, I even caught up on Game of Thrones while I was tracing this guy.” He was acting like it was no big deal, what he was doing.
“You do all that sitting on your ass? You got any idea what he does Friday nights, smart guy? Where he goes, what he does, I’m telling you it’s not that simple.” I didn’t like what I was hearing.
“Yeah it is. Friday night is poker night at the Social Club, place over on West 56th. Goes there at ten when the place closes, doesn’t leave until 2 am, jumps into a cab and heads over to her place. Spends the night, gets up with the milkman, home by eight, back to the store in time to open at nine.
Everything he says and does is right there, online, all you need to know are a couple of passwords, a couple of IP addresses and you’re in. Hell, I could track you, Vinnie, anybody.” There was that big goofy grin again.
“Think so, that’d be a neat trick, kid.” I wasn’t smiling anymore. “Tell you what, we’re done for the week so why don’t you try and do just that. You put all that fancy rigmarole to work and see what you can get on me. Meet me at Sal’s in a couple days, and show me what you got. You get anything on me and I buy you dinner, your favourite steak plate. Yeah, I know which one it is. And no cheating, you gotta do it all with that fancy online IP crap you keep yapping about. Think you can handle that?”
He smiled and nodded, a challenge he figured he could handle, maybe show me up, how I was wasting his time when we could be out there shooting up the whole town. Vincent didn’t like hearing that. Like I said he was old school, anyone snooping around his business, asking too many questions, that was a problem.
“Easy peasy, but you don’t cheat either, you don’t change your routine.”
“Me, I’m gonna sit on my ass for the rest of the week, then we’ll see who knows what.” I smiled hard right back at him.
***
A couple of days in and he thought he was watching me have a cold one at Dominic’s. He was an old friend, always had a couple on ice, and a side door in his office. An hour later I’m looking through the passenger window of the kid’s rental. He’s guzzling bottled water and eating a whole lot of frustration. Couldn’t sit still, constantly checking his lap, scouting Dom’s with a hunter’s scope but seeing nothing, least of all me. I knock on the window, he jumps about a foot, angry as hell when he sees it’s me. He rolls down the window.
“So, getting hungry yet?” I asked politely.
“Not so fast old man,” the kid groused. “I’ve still a day left, I’ll get you yet.
“You wish. Like I said, nothing beats a little shoe leather, and a whole lot of patience. You want to know somebody, put yourself in his shoes for a week and you’ll know what you need to know. And I don’t mean his shoe size or the colour of his socks.”
“Yours are ash grey, saw them when you walked in.”
“So they are, so where did I buy them, who’s my tailor, that smart crap of yours tell you any of that?” I gave a smile hard enough to make his teeth hurt.
“I’m not done yet,” he groused. Nervous, I could tell by the way his left eyelid was flicking. That didn’t come from any phone, just careful observation, same as I told him a hundred times. The second it starts to flicker he’s all nerves and can’t think straight, gets a little angry, loses a little control. That’s when he’s at his weakest, his most unprotected.
“Fair enough. Better get some new batteries for that thing, must be asleep or something.”
Come Friday it was all over, time for me to finish this.
He looked like hell, red-eyed, unshaven, same clothes as when we’d started. We met at his favourite place, back of Sal’s Steakhouse on East 23rd. He tore into his filet like he hadn’t eaten in a week, didn’t say a word, just wolfed it down. Like I figured, the chump hadn’t learned a thing, not even this hard lesson. All that time trying to teach him stuff pretty much wasted.
He liked the house special, liked to sit in the back where the light was low, close to the kitchen so he could watch Sal’s daughter slip by with another plate of prime rib. Like he had a chance with her.
“How did you know all that?” he asked, in between bites.
“Why don’t you ask your phone, smart guy, maybe you’ll learn a little something.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever.” He switched over to a double slice of pie. Pecan. Nuts, just like him.
Sal whistled, waved a phone at me from the bar. A couple of words and I was back at the booth, throwing on my jacket, making ready to leave.
“You ready to go yet,” I grumbled. “That was Vincent just called. Man has job needs doing.”
The kid perked up. “I heard that, let’s go” and then he was off and running to his regular spot in the Biscayne.
It was short drive, ending in a darker section of town, down a one-way alley. Riding shotgun, he was fully immersed in the modernity of life, as evidenced by his complete and total focus on the latest smart phone in his hands. He sat there, completely oblivious to everything and everyone around him, eye still flicking.
Small and silenced spoke twice, and the kid slumped over, smart phone still searching for life online. Boom dead.
Biography:
Larry Flewin lives and writes in Winnipeg, Canada. His passion for writing covers the gamut from corporate newsletters and manuals to children’s books, e-zine mystery fiction, and western short fiction. He has several online publishing credits including winning a CBC song writing contest. Larry is passionate about his craft, and is never far from a pen; plots are where you find them. He is active in his community, a volunteer driver for Winnipeg Harvest, and has just published his first full-length novel on Amazon/KDP, The 26th Letter. He is currently working on on his third novel.
