A/N: well after the final eps in season three, both of which left me a sobbing mess, i felt the need to vent a little so this is the result. Hopefully i will update faster as its all written up already, but with my delayed action syndrome i won't make any promises...as always reveiws are loved and appreciated.
Disclaimer: If it was mine it would not have been Zack!!
The dark theatre was nearly empty, the old black and white movie not drawing as much of a crowd as it used to. Brennan sat next to her father in the middle of an otherwise deserted row of seats. Directly in front of them sat a stout balding man who, unbeknownst to him was the reason Brennan and her father were there. Lou Marcheta, Danny in Chicago had informed them after various blows to the body with a wooden baseball bat, was the man that kept most of the lower level Kings armed. Whether it was a clean pistol without the messy paperwork or an RPG to make a statement, he was the go to guy. Finding him had been easy enough with the instructions Danny in Chicago had supplied but Brennan was anxious. They had been very lucky to get as far as they were, and she wasn't sure how much longer catching their targets during solitary bathroom and smoking breaks was going to prove effective. When she voiced her concerns to her father, he simply chuckled and said:
"Everyman has a weakness that can be exploited Tempy; you just need to know what it is. More often than not, if you watch someone long enough, they will show you what their weakness is. Once we know what their weakness is we figure out a way to use that weakness to our advantage. Never underestimate the information a person's daily routine can give you."
Brennan had been sceptical at first but after three weeks on Lou's tail she could not fault her father's hypothesis. She felt like she knew the man personally despite not having had an official introduction. She knew where he got his hair cut, his favourite ice-cream, where he worked, where his kids went to school and unfortunately, that he was surrounded by at least four of his men on a daily basis. However, there was one place that Lou went to without his constant entourage, for reasons only he knew. His "Achilles heel", as her father had called it, occurred every Sunday. Like clockwork, Lou Marcheta entered the Bellevue Theatre at five, ordered a medium popcorn and was seated in the same seat in row G by quarter past. Brennan and Max had watched Lou's routine unfold, like the three Sundays prior, and were safe in the knowledge that only they knew how drastically different Lou's Sunday was about to become as they took their seats directly behind him.
--
Lou Marcheta was a happy man. He had just closed a gun deal that was going to make him thousands, his lawyer had just informed him his divorce had finally been finalised, which meant he no longer had to deal with his ex-wife, and to top it all off one of his favourite movies, "Casablanca", was playing at the Bellevue Theatre. It was the perfect ending to the perfect Sunday evening. However his perfect Sunday came crashing down around him when, twenty minutes into the movie, he felt something cold and hard pressing into the right side of his neck. His hand froze halfway to his mouth still containing the popcorn he was about to consume. At the edge of his peripheral vision he could just make out the outline of gloved hand holding a 9mm Jericho 941 pistol equipped with silencer, not unlike the ones he sold on a daily basis. The irony that he might die by a weapon he gladly distributed to anyone who paid enough was not lost on him. Before his brain could process a protest at this sudden turn of events, a gruff whisper sounded in his left ear, the sound making the hairs at the back of his head stand on end.
"Keep your eyes on the screen and your mouth shut. You call for help those will be the last words you will ever speak, answer my questions and you live to see another movie. Do you understand?"
Max had waited twenty minutes for the six other patrons in the theatre to become absorbed in the film before he made his move. Holding his gun in his right hand, between Brennan and himself, he made his presence known leaning further to whisper his threat. His new position hid the gun from the view of the patrons to his left and Brennan mirrored his actions to make sure no one on the right hand of the theatre could see what her and her father were up to. When Lou dumbly nodded his understanding to Max's threat, Max continued in his low whisper.
"I know who you are and I know who you work for so don't waste my time denying it. All you need to do is tell me who your contact in the Kings is and how I can find them."
Lou swallowed thickly. His hand which was still braced halfway to his mouth shook slightly as he replied in an equally hushed but more fervent whisper.
"If you know who I am then you will know why I can't do that. My other clients find out I ratted the Kings out it would be very bad for business."
"You won't be around to do any business if you don't tell me what I need to know."
Max cocked the hammer on his pistol for emphasis and the small click was barely disguised by the noise of the film. Brennan looked around anxiously but the other filmgoers remained thankfully oblivious to the goings on in the middle row.
"Ok, ok, I'll tell you what I know but it ain't much." Lou conceded, self preservation trumping the repercussions of his confession at that moment in time. "I ran into some tax trouble a few years back and I don't know how they found out, but a fella from the Kings comes to me and he says he can help get the tax man off my back. In return I get a substantial payment in my bank account and his guys come, get what they want, no questions asked. I'm no schmuck, so of course I took the deal. Next thing I know this accountant, Sheldon Horwitz, turns up on my door step. He looks at the books, fills out some forms and I'm back on the straight and narrow as far as Uncle Sam is concerned. Now he handles all my books to make sure Johnny Law leaves me be, but I'm not the only one. Rumour is he does the books for the big players, maybe even the boss man himself."
"This accountant? Horwitz. How do I find him?"
"He lives in Philli, owns his own accounting firm ... H&P Accounting I think. He spends most of his time there and if he ain't there he's at the stadium. He's a big football fan, owns shares in one of the local teams so he's at every game. That's all I know, I swear!"
"I hope for your sake you're telling the truth." Max said as Brennan reached into her pocket, retrieving the syringe she had prepared. Without preamble she ensured there was no oxygen in the syringe before inserting it into a precise point on Lou's neck and emptying the contents.
Lou felt the effects of the drug almost immediately, Humphrey Boggart coming in and out of focus his words long and drawn out. Before he lost consciousness, his chin resting on his chest, he heard max's voice again, the whisper loud and threatening in his drug induced haze as everything faded to black.
"Keep this little chat between us Lou, or a little nap will be the worst of your problems."
