Chapter VIII
Recipe for Organized Crime
"Do you understand why I have called you here, Ms. Dustin?"
"I am afraid I do not. However I suspect it is related to the events of today"
"Indeed, Ms. Dustin, indeed. But this is what happens when you do sloppy work; he let himself get seen – he let himself get caught. The poor fool." I paced back and forward slowly, Ms. Dustin stood up straight with her gaze fixed tightly in front of her; avoiding eye contact with me.
"He will be missed, sir."
"Missed, Ms. Dustin? Oh quite the contrary. Even if he had not been hung, I would have shot the man myself. Can't have loose ends, now can we, Ms. Dustin?" I turned to her and took a few steps closer. She did not move.
"No, sir. I supposed we can't."
"I hope Mr. Lawson's actions prove as a warning to you. For anyone who gets caught should be more afraid of what I will do them than hanging from that post." I held a pistol up to the woman's head with its barrel pressed against her ear. She remained looking straight forward without moving.
"…I understand, godfather."
"Now, back to business. As of late we have been rather shorthanded on staff. Thusly, I have decided to promote you, Ms. Dustin. I have a target assigned for you; a 'James Russel.' I trust you can handle it." I held Ms. Dustin's hand in mine, and slipped the gun from my hand to hers.
"You… want me to k-kill someone? I'm not sure if I can, godfather… setting people up is one thing, killing them is another…"
"This is a promotion, Ms. Dustin. I suggest you don't argue." She grasped the weapon in her hands and shivered at the feeling of being responsible for murder.
"Now, be gone Ms. Dustin. Get the job done."
"…Yes, godfather." She turned and exited the room in silence; my back to her.
Kill someone! Me? I can't possibly do it, but if I don't… Deodat, why did you have to go and get caught! I walked down the streets making sure to be hidden, hiding behind bushes and trees; staying well away from the obvious dirt pathways.
I approached the house of James Russel; the man I had to kill. Did I really have to take his life? Perhaps I could just warn his and force him to leave town. No. the mafia would find out, there was no way to get out of this. Either he died; or I did. I was going to become a murderer, a tainted soul. I walked slowly up the stone steps to the doorway; the door was locked twice over. No lock pick could break this, so I decided to survey the perimeter for windows or a backdoor.
I came across a window on the west side of the house, not to far above the ground. The hatches on the outside were old and rusted; I broke them off rather easily. Shimmying my way up, I hoisted one leg over the window sill and then the other. The night was so silent; the wind, so calm. Not a single sound. My feet hit the wood floor of the house's interior; just then tears formed in my eyes and I let out a small refrained scream. I looked down, a metal spring contraption filled with jagged shards had enclosed around my right foot, it bled and stung like a thousand bee stings.
"Thought you could kill me, did you?" a voice shouted, I turned to face it. There, James Russel stood in the corner of the dark room with not a light on in the house. He had predicted my attack! I felt slight anger come over me. He had bested me. I raised my arm, the gun loaded, and shot at him; it grazed his ear and struck the wall behind him in a loud crashing noise.
"You were meant to die tonight, not me!" I shouted back, he pulled out a gun from his pocket and I aimed to return fire when a bullet pierced my torso. Fallen to my knees, blood ran from my mouth; the gun in my hand fell to the floor.
"I served in a war you know; I'm not so easily killed!" another bullet struck me upon my right shoulder.
"At least…" Words were attempting to slip out of my mouth. "I can die; knowing I am not a killer..." life escaped my breath and I felt a cool breeze rush over my body.
"Retched mafia. One who incisively frames another for murder is just as guilty as the murderer himself; witch."
Staring down the barrel of a gun, my vision was fuzzy and my blood splattered the floor; I could not hear nor see. Staring back at my killer, one more bullet pierced right between my eyes.