Episode #2
"The name's Vercetti." Came the voice of a man, stepping out of the shadows in the corner of the Malibu Club. "Tommy Vercetti."
"Ah, Mr. Vercetti!" Frank Gomez, the owner of the club, replied. "I have been waiting for you to show up for so long! I hear that the deal I set up for you and your boss, Forelli, a few weeks ago didn't work out very well?"
"You could say that,"
"I'm surprised you are alive. My men were killed, and so were yours, as I hear."
"Yeah, somebody fucked up alright. Now I'm on my own in this city, with nothing."
"Well then, what can we do about this do yo-"
"Shut up, and listen to me. I want you to tell me what the hell is going on, and why I don't have my stuff right now."
"You have me at a loss, Mr. Vercetti. I was screwed over in that deal too, and yet you come to me ordering for things as if it was my fault."
Tommy stepped forwards and grabbed Gomez by the shirt, crinkling up the smooth appearance of the white cotton. Gomez looked into Tommy's eyes with a look of genuine fear, not knowing what was going to happen next. Tommy quickly shoved Gomez back slightly, releasing his grip.
"Fine," he said, gritting his teeth. "But I'll be back here, just know that. OK? I'll be back through here."
Tommy quickly stormed out of the front of the club in an anger. Casper put his hands to his chest and straightened out his shirt, then he flexed his neck from side to side.
"Frankie," he yelled up the stairs in the back of the club, directing his voice towards his bodyguard. "Do me a favour eh, go take care of that piece o' shit!"
Frankie Bertonelli, Casper's tall bodyguard laden with huge muscles, stepped down the stairs and took a look across the dance floor of the club. He saw Tommy Vercetti run down the front steps of the Malibu just outside, and then nodded at his boss.
"No problem." He smirked, pulling a desert eagle from inside his jacket pocket.
Bertonelli then quickly made his way across the dance floor, pointing at two more security guards at the door of the club. They displayed their fists, equipped with brass knuckles, and then stepped out the door and down the steps, following Tommy. They watched Tommy turn left into the car park round the back of the club, and then they ran along the gritty concrete sidewalk, crouching down to hide themselves behind the wall. As Tommy made his way towards a silver admiral parked in the corner, one of them quickly sprinted out towards him.
Within seconds he had caught up with Tommy, and he was right behind him. Suddenly, Tommy spun round and grabbed the man's arm, twisting it up behind his back. The other guard then ran towards him, and Tommy released his grip. As the other approached he quickly rolled to the side and then kicked the man in the back of his legs, sending him down to the floor. He then jumped on top of him and began punching his face, turning it into a bloody mess.
CRACK!
The other man had risen, and punched Tommy in the back with his brass knuckles. Tommy fell to the floor in pain, rolling onto his side next to the guard on the floor. He then tried to reach his back with his arms, and shake away the pain in any way possible. As he rolled onto his back, he watched the guard lift his fist, ready for the knock-out shot. He closed his eyes as the fist approached.
"Stop!" came a loud shout from over the other side of the car park. It was the voice of Frankie Bertonelli, who now held his handgun at his side, calmly.
The guard paused and held his fist in the air, just inches away from Tommy's face. Tommy began breathing heavier, and gave a sigh of relief as the guard retracted his fist. His stomach dropped as he then turned to his left, and watched as Bertonelli began advancing on them.
The guard stepped up and backed away slightly, pulling the other guard to his feet at the same time. The two guards cleared the area and watched from a few metres away as Frankie approached Vercetti, a menacing smile coming across his face as he drew nearer.
"You know, Vercetti, things didn't have to be like this." He began, raising the desert eagle slightly. "If you had just been a nice guy to Mr. Gomez, then things wouldn't have turned out this way. He wanted to like you, but you couldn't accept that. And now you must pay the price for that."
Tommy's eyes widened as he watched the man's finger begin to squeeze the trigger of the handgun, which was now aimed straight at him.
"Bye, bye, Mr. Vercetti."
Tommy quickly rolled out, despite the pain, and flung himself into Bertonelli's legs. Bertonelli stumbled forwards slightly as he pulled the trigger, and the bullet flew from the gun, piercing the trunk of a parked Infernus. Tommy then took advantage of the situation and tripped him up, snatching his gun away at the same time. The two bodyguards ran over, and Tommy quickly pulled the trigger twice. They both fell backwards, hitting the floor with a quiet thump.
Tommy then twirled the gun round to aim at Bertonelli, who was now off the ground. Before Tommy could shoot, Frankie chopped his hand, sending the gun flying several feet across the floor. Tommy quickly went to punch him, but Frankie grabbed his hand and stopped it from moving anywhere. The two locked up and Vercetti quickly headbutted Bertonelli in the nose, cutting it open at the top.
Bertonelli shuffled back several paces as blood began to trickle down from the top of his nose, but he didn't seem to notice the pain too much. However, Tommy had already managed to get into his admiral, and he started the engine as fast as he could. Bertonelli dodged out of the way, diving for his gun as Tommy reversed the vehicle out of the car park. He emptied the clip at the car as it sped away from the car park, away from the club. Tommy had made yet dodged yet another bullet, and had escaped from a deadly situation for the second time.
A jet black stinger swerved round the corner of the Starfish Island bridge, smoke emitting from the rubber tyres as it skidded across the tarmac. It flew over the bridge, hitting the road with a slight thud as it landed down on the other side. Rico Martinez sat in the passengers seat, calmly loading several bullets into the chamber of his colt python, as he looked up at the dark night sky.
"How much time we got?" Rico questioned, looking right towards his partner, Sonny Johnson.
"Not long," Sonny replied, steering the car onto the mainland. "The deal isn't gonna be goin' on forever."
Rico nodded and continued checking his weapon.
"So, who gave us the tip on this one?" he asked, again turning towards the drivers seat.
"Some rat motherfucker, goes by the name of Neil Roberts. Called in an hour ago."
"We gonna check that out later, yeah?"
"Yeah, we need to find out where he fits in."
Sonny pulled up outside the hooker inn, and then turned off the engine. He grabbed his colt 45 from inside his jacket and then checked the clip. Once satisfied, he slotted it back into the handle of the gun and then stepped out of the car.
Without saying a word, he shut his door quietly and signalled for Rico to enter the building on the right. Rico nodded and then ran towards the door, entering quietly. Sonny entered the door on the left, which led to another corridor opposite the one Rico was entering. He watched Rico creep along the building through the courtyard, and then continued down the corridor himself.
Over the other side, Rico quickly snapped round, swiftly plucking his colt python from its holster as he spun. A faint ray of moonlight shone through windows on the side of the corridor he was advancing down, just enough to light up the shadows in the building. When he realised that there was no noise behind him and it was just the wind, he turned back round and crept forwards, hearing faint mumbles of voices groaning before him. Just one door lay between him and the voices, just one, small door.
He gripped his gun tightly, thin beads of sweat gathering on his forehead as he reached out for the handle of the door with his left hand. He grabbed hold of the handle and brought his face up to a small, dark window in the door – close enough to see through it and look at what was going on. Inside the room was a small group of people, around six or seven to be exact. Two of them were leaned over a small table, while the rest crowded round to look at whatever was on the table as well.
"Heh," Rico silently sighed to himself. "So that rat was telling the truth. A coke deal."
He gripped his revolver even tighter, and checked that the six bullets were loaded into the chamber quickly. He then walked over to one of the windows at the side of the corridor, and gave a short signal. Just outside the corridor was the courtyard, surrounded on all sides by the building. In the opposite corridor to Rico, Sonny was walking round the courtyard, and approaching the room from the other side.
Sonny caught Rico's signal and then began advancing through the corridor round to the back of the room. Suddenly, just outside, two police cruisers pulled up at the building, their sirens blazing in the night. The men inside the room heard the noises, and Rico watched as they scrambled away from the table and pulled out their own guns. On the table was proof of Rico's assumption – plenty of white, grainy cocaine smothered across the wooden surface.
"Oh shit," Rico sighed, crouching down further to avoid being spotted by any of the men. "Here we go."
Breathing heavier, Rico turned round and watched as three members of the VCPD SWAT Team crept down the corridor, MP5 sub-machineguns in hand. Rico took one last, deep breath as the backup approached. He then jumped up, and kicked the door in with his foot.
"Vice Law!" he shouted, aiming the gun into the room. "Put your weapons down!"
The men inside quickly let off a barrage of bullets, aimed in Rico's direction. He ducked behind the door again and used it as a shield, bullets puncturing the think wooden surface. But he wouldn't last out there forever.
The SWAT Team swiftly lifted up their guns and fired inside at anything that moved. Several of the men inside flew backwards over the tables, sliding through the cocaine piles and turning them into red messes. Others hit the floor with a thud, blood gushing from their bodies as they lay down to take their last breath.
The SWAT members stopped to reload, and Rico peeked in through the corner. There were three men left, but two of them were crouched down on the floor, holding their hands above their heads in surrender. The other one held an M4 in his grip tightly, and continuously burst fired three rounds through the open door.
"Shit!" one of the SWAT members shouted as a bullet tore through his arm, as he held out his weapon. "I'm hit!"
"Damn it ... we can't hold out here much longer." Another chimed in.
Suddenly, the back exit to the room burst open and Sonny rushed in, holding his shiny Colt 45 strongly. As the man with the M4 began to turn around to face him, Sonny quickly shot into the man's back. The man gave a scream of pain as he dropped his gun to the floor and fell to his knees in agony.
Rico stepped into the room, followed by the SWAT members, who began scouring the rest of the building for anyone else. Rico and Sonny then slapped a pair of handcuffs onto the two men who had surrendered earlier on, and they got rid of all their weapons. Several ambulances pulled up outside, and the paramedics began rushing into the building to attend to the criminals.
Lt. Ed Jameson sat behind his large oak desk, puffing on a Cuban cigar as usual, looking over several different files on the wood. His chair slammed to the floor as Sonny and Rico barged into the room and stood in front of the desk.
"Hey, you two." Ed shouted as they walked in. "I got some news on Vercetti."
"What? Tell us." Rico replied. "We've been chasing him for weeks, what've you got?"
"He was spotted in a brawl last night, outside the Malibu Club." Ed explained. "I'm not sure of the details yet, that's all I know."
"And that rat from the deal last night, where do we get him?" Sonny asked.
"He is the assistant to the manager at the Pole Position Club, apparently." Ed answered. "Not many people know about this, we only just managed to find out."
"What's that got to do with a coke deal?" Rico questioned. "Why would he want to shout that off? Something seems strange here..."
"You're right - we need to know how he knows, and why he went to the trouble of reporting it to us. Go down there and see what you can find out. But don't do anything at the club, we don't want security there getting up in our face."
"OK, I'll take care of that. But first, where are the guys we arrested? Perhaps we can find something else that is crucial out of them." Sonny enquired.
"OK, here's what we'll do. Rico, you go down and interrogate some of the boys you caught, Sonny, go check out Roberts."
The two nodded and then exited the room, splitting up and going different ways as soon as they were out. Rico turned right and then headed down a small set of stairs, into a thin corridor lined with beige paint on the walls. The corridor smelled of paint, it must have been freshly done. Dust flew through the air into his face as Rico made his way along the corridor, to two silver doors at the end. On the left he could enter the interrogation room, whilst on the right he could enter the viewing room.
Rico swung open the door on the left and then entered. Inside Vincent Cordero, a hard nosed member of Vice Law, leaned on the table, staring at one of the men being interrogated. Vincent wore a black leather jacket, and had thick black hair. He had emigrated from Italy into America as a young boy, and had lived in Vice City ever since.
He mainly grew up on the street because his parents had died while he was a teenager, but he managed to make his way through it. He joined the Vice Law team of the VCPD when he was 27, and he had been there for 4 years now. He may have had disregard for the rules, but when it came to getting something done, nobody got the job done faster or better.
Vincent picked his arms up off the table and stepped out of the room the instant Rico walked through the door. He then pulled Rico back out to tell him about the situation, and closed the door over so that the man inside wouldn't be able to hear them.
"Right, here's how it is," Vincent began, leaning against the wall with his elbow. "Seven guys in that room. Three dead, POW! One shot in the back, in hospital. Another critically injured, got shot several times. Then we have these two little fucks, but I don't know if I can get a straight answer out of them both."
"You interrogated him in there?" Rico questioned.
"Yeah, sure have. He claims he was just a tag along at the deal, didn't even realise that he was doing anything illegal until he got there. That's his exact story, he's been stickin' to it."
"What about the other?" Rico asked.
"I haven't checked him out yet."
"I'll do it then, see what he knows."
"OK, but I'll stick around in there. I need to be there to know if what he is saying compares to this other guy or not."
Rico nodded, and then told Vincent to get rid of the other man inside the room. He then turned and walked into the viewing room to take a look at what they knew so far, and to listen to the recording.
Sonny pulled up in his stinger outside the Pole Position Club. The club looked strange in the gleaming sun of the day, because it's bright pink neon lights didn't flash, and nothing was magnificently illuminated. However, business continued as normal inside, even if it was less busy. It was still a place to just go and enjoy a drink, with the added luxury of exotic dancers at your pleasure.
Sonny opened the door of his car and stepped out onto the sidewalk calmly, straightening out his silver suit as he stood up. He took off his sunglasses, slotted them onto the collar of his shirt and then approached the entrance of the club, walking down a small corridor into the bar of the building.
Inside, the club was almost empty, and there were no dancers out on the catwalks. A small group of people sat in one of the corners of the Malibu, discussing the mornings' events and having a few drinks. Sonny walked in past the bald-headed security guard standing at the inner door, and then he walked up to the bar.
"A vodka, please." Sonny ordered.
Within seconds the barman got a shot of vodka ready and then slid it across the bar to Sonny. Sonny then paid him and took the drink to an empty table on the opposite side of the club, sitting down at the seat next to the wall. He took one sip of his drink, and then simply just held it up near his face, to make sure he didn't look suspicious.
Several minutes later, Sonny watched as a man with curly blonde hair and a black t-shirt walked out of the back room of the club. He then tried to get a better view of the back corridor, without shifting himself too much. There appeared to be nobody there. Placing his drink down onto the table, he stood up and then walked back out of the club, making sure that he didn't look like he was following the man.
Sonny watched from a fair distance behind as the man walked towards a silver cheetah, and then unlocked the doors. He then quickly ran over the road and grabbed the man's arm as gently as he could manage, before he opened the door.
"Are you Roberts?" Sonny questioned, eagerly. "Neil Roberts?"
The man looked round himself in fear, sweat beginning to gather on his forehead.
"Y... y ... ye... yeah, that's me." He replied, his voice becoming high and timid. He began breathing heavy, trying to scramble towards the handle of the door. "What do you want with me?"
"Don't play dumb," Sonny retorted, angrily. "You called in for the tip off on a coke deal last night, how did you know?"
The man didn't say anything, even though he kept his mouth open slightly.
"How did you know, you rat motherfucker?!"
"OK, OK, fine. I was in the Malibu club, spying on them. They have been competing with us at the Pole Position for months, trying to stop us from making good business." Roberts began to explain, opening up more. "So here they are in the Malibu club, talking at one of their tables. They don't know who I am, I'm an unknown face. That's why I went there, not somebody else. I simply overhead it, that's all!"
"And who were these guys, that you overhead talking?"
"There's a local gang round here, the Sharks, right? Well, they work with the Malibu club, protecting them and shit. I don't know, I figured it must be some of them."
Sonny released his grip from the man, and then turned his head. The sun was still shining, even though the evening was drawing near, so he placed his sunglasses onto his head again.
"Fine, OK." Sonny said, turning back round to the man. "Get out of here. But no more shit like this, understood? Keep yourself out of the way of this."
Neil nodded frantically and then quickly swung open the door of his cheetah, starting up the engine and getting out of there as fast as he could. Sonny watched the car disappear into the distance, and then he sighed, walking back over to his stinger to go back to the station.
"What's your name, kid?" Rico asked the man sitting in the interrogation room. He didn't look much over twenty, and still had his whole life ahead of him.
"Joel Jackson."
"So, why were you there at the deal, Joel?" Rico questioned, leaning down on the table. "What's your involvement in this?"
"I'm innocent! I wasn't supposed to be there!" Joel replied, an anxious look of terror spread across his face.
"Liar!" Vincent shouted, stepping up out of his seat in the corners. "Your friend already used that excuse. Tell me the fucking truth!"
The man sat there, without saying a word. He began to open his mouth, but no sound came out. He just sat there, still, silent.
"Now, my friend ain't one to be kind, man. I suggest, seriously, tell us the truth." Rico said, calmly, acting the part of the good cop.
Vincent slipped back into the shadows menacingly, his body becoming a dark figure as he stepped backwards smoothly. The man looked around himself one more time. The room was dark gray, with a small light dangling down from the roof, without a lampshade. The room was a small, cramped, square box. The only other feature was a large mirror on one wall, and he knew that people may be watching on the other side.
"Fine." The man whimpered, placing his hands down onto the table gently. "I am in a gang, the Sharks. I didn't want to be there, honestly. I'm not a cold blooded criminal, I have a family!"
"Just tell us the details," Rico asked.
"Who were they, why were you there?"
"The Sharks, we work on the streets, and for the Malibu Club. Listen, you can't let them know I told you this, they'll kill me!"
"Oh, we won't let them know, Joel." Vincent replied, a tone of laughter in his voice. "We won't let them know at all, under one condition."
"You work for us." Rico butted in. "You act like you got away from the deal, escaped out the back. Tell them we got the rest. Then just stay there, and tell us whatever happens."
"But, what do you want me to find out?" Joel asked in a quiet voice.
"Nothing about the Sharks," Rico explained. "Find out what both the Sharks, and the Malibu Clubs involvement is with Tommy Vercetti. And then tell us, immediately."
"Got it?"
Jackson whimpered one last time, then calmed himself again.
"OK, I'll do it." He replied after several long seconds of silence. "But once I'm done, I'm free, right?"
"Yes, as long as you help us, we'll forget this ever happened." Rico answered. "Nobody will know but us, and you."
The man nodded as Vincent opened the door and then exited the room, heading into the other side of the mirror to switch off the tape recorder. Rico then stood up and escorted Joel out of the room, and down the corridor. He gave him a card with which to contact them on, and then let him out of the front door, whispering one last thing to him before he let him go.
Vincent approached Rico from behind as they both watched Joel run away from the small building in downtown Vice City.
"Is what he told us right? Do you believe him, and do you trust him?" Vincent asked, leaning on the frame of the door.
"Yeah, I trust him." Rico replied moments later. "I checked it out earlier, that is his name, it's all the truth. And I told him that we know everything about him, so hopefully he won't be stupid and he will go along with this."
Vincent nodded and then turned around as Sonny approached in his Stinger outside.
"I'm going for a cup of coffee, see you later." Vincent shouted back, already halfway down the hall.
Rico gave a slight nod of his head and then walked down the small set of steps outside the building, meeting up with Sonny as he got out of his car.
"So, what's the news?" Rico asked, blankly.
"Roberts, caught up with him. He told me that he found out by spying at the Malibu Club. A local gang round there, the Sharks. Works for the Malibu, helps them do some stuff, I don't know what it's worth."
"My guy works for the Sharks, and the Malibu, Sonny." Rico replied sharply. "And let's not forget, Vercetti was attacked there."
"Oh yeah?" Sonny replied, a smile coming across his face. "Things seem to be fitting together now, this is getting real interesting."
"Real interesting, indeed."