River City Blues
Chapter 4
"You ready?" Oz asked me as he shifted the Sentinel into second. I nodded back. The car was gaining speed, the engine roaring. We swerved through traffic avoiding hitting passing cars. the people who walked by on the strip turned to colorful blurs. We were quickly approaching a corner Cafe' that sat on a sharp corner in the business district, our target(s) current position.
Wham!
We plowed into hte eating area of the Cafe', green folding chair flying in every which direction. The few people sitting outside on a day like today scattered like cochroaches when the lights go on. 4 men sat at a table next to the cafe's front door. Two wore suits while the other two wore long black trenchcoats. Oz stopped the car with a jolt and pulled himself out through his window, shotgun in hand. I leaned out the window with my MP5k. The men took one look at us and freaked out. Oz and I fired, both hitting one of hte men in the suits (whom was terribly balding) and his body gaurd who was pulling a H&K PDW out of his coat. The other man and his bodyguard took of into the Cafe'.
Oz jumped out of the stallion and strolled quickly over to the guys we had just shot up and checked for a pulse. They were dead. I pulled myself from the car and ran into the cafe' after them. I ran through the eating area and jumped over the counter into the kitchen. I found my way through the maze of cooking equipment and people shouting orders, and found the back door. As I turned the corner past a parition automatic fire rang out in the kitchen. I stumbled back, barely missed getting shot. I looekd over and saw the bodyguard storm out the back door. I got back on my feet and slammed through the door into the trades alley.
To my left was boarded up and littered by a dumpster full of trash. To my right down towards hte open end of the alley, was the other man in the suit and his hired hand not far behind making their grand escape. I ran after them, firing my subgun wildly. My shots connected with the body guard's back cutting him down. But I was going ot lose my target if I didn't keep up. I tossed away my weapon and drew my .45 to go faster. The man in the suit had gotten to the end of the alley and onto the street when-
WHUMP!
He collided with front side of Oz's sentinel. He landed on the hood skidding to the other side and landing out of side. Oz jumped out of his vehicle toting his 12 guage. I ran around to the other side and kept my glock trained on the target, whom was sitting up against the front left tire. His name was Sven Vlashnikov, a well respected figure in the Russian mob scene. He wore a black suit and had a large burn scar on his right cheek. His face was always a scowl.
Oz bent over and reached inside Sen's coat, pulling out a Makarov. He ejected the clip and tossed the small handgun into the gutter. I heard sirens approaching.
" Shit, what do we do?" I asked Oz.
" We'll take him to the stack boxes." He replied.
============================================================================ ======
" You sure this is the place?" Gunner asked Wong.
" Yeah, this where I deliver all the time." He replied nervously wringing his hands. " They check everyone for weapons, with a 12 guage in your face."
" Interesting." Gunner said looking at the building. " So how come they never found your piece?"
" I just bought that gun today." Wong replied. " 250 dollars, you gonna give it back?"
" Nope, consider that I did you a favor and kept you from breaking your parole." Gunner said. " Now get out of here."
Wong grumbled and got out of the Karuma, slamming the door shut behind him. Wong walked furiously odwn the street, his hands shoved in his pockets. They were in the lower part of China town, a part littered with seedy joints. The place Wong had pointed out to The Detective was a two story building, a Chinese Butcher on the ground floor and a apartment on the top floor. In a trades alley behind the butcher's and a unmarked building(probably a crack house; Gunner thought to himself.) there was a set of metal stairs leadign up to a blue door marked trades.
Gunner got out of his vehicle and jogged across the street. He shuddered at the skinned ducks hanging in the window of the butcher's and pressed on. He walked halfway up the metal stair case but stopped half way, and un- holstered his glock; checking hte magazine. He re-holstered the gun and continued up to the trades door. He looked around cautiously and knocked on the door three times. A eyehole planted under the trades sign opened up and a blank eye stared back at him.
" River City Police Department." Gunner said plainly, holding his badge up. " I have osme questions about R.H. Grant?"
The eye disappeared and the hole closed. A buss rang out form inside the apartment and the heavy steel door creaked open slowly. Gunner walked in, the room was dark, but he could make out the outlines of a cheap dineatte set, a kitchen area but room beyond it was extremely dark. Gunner pulled a small maglight out of his pocket and switched it on. It flickered to life with protest, but hten went blank. Gunner sighed and smacked the side of it. It turned on again, he owuld have to get new batteries for it. He swept the weak beam around hte room, there was no one in sight...
BAM!
A shot whizzed by Gunner's head, someone pushed pass him and out the door he came in. Gunner un-holstered his wepaon and ran out the door. He got outside and saw his shooter hurrying down the steps, brandishing a Colt M1911. Gunner raised his weapon and shouted; " FREEZE!"
The shooter froze in his spot on cue. " Drop you weapon!" Gunner shouted, the shooter did so. " Now put your hands over your head and turn around very slowly." He commanded, the guy did so. It turned out to be Spencer Holden; one of Grant's bodyguard's. He wore a black trench coat(the H.R. Grant crew's signature) and his hair was buzz cut.
" Well, Well Well, Dect. Ryan Gunner." Spencer said, with a heavy cockney accent.
" Spencer Holden I see." Ryan said walking down the steps holstering his gun. " You do realise attempting to kill a cop is an offense in this country."
" Meh, same over in Great Britain." He said lowering his hands. " What do ya' wanna know a 'bout Grant?"
" What he's been up to." Gunner said patting Spencer down for anymore weapons, and finding none. " I ain't gonna book you, seeing as I'm in the middle of a triple homicide investigation. So spill it."
" So' right, here's the deal." Spence said. " All's I know's is that Grant hired this kid of from I think Florida? To do some dirty work for him. Word on the street is that The Oz man is involved somehow."
" The Oz man?" Gunner asked. " The illegal gun broker?"
" Yeah's, how many people in this town go by the name 'Oz' anyway?" Holden replied.
" Alright, so what do you know about this kid from down south?" Gunner asked.
" Ah ,I think the lboke is like hte nephew of this doper in Vice City. Tommy...uhm...Tommy somethin'"
" Vercetti?" Gunner asked trying to refresh his memory.
" Yeah, Tommy Vercetti." Spencer repleid snapping his fingers.
" Alright so where can I find these two?" Gunner asked.
" Ah, I don't know." Spencer said. " I guess this kid would be sqautting with Oz, but he's always on the run. Why don't you try asking around Oz's old haunt? You know the Ammu-nation downtown."
" Will do." Gunner said walking past him. " At the bottom of the steps he turned around and said: " But stay out of trouble."
" Right back at ya." Spencer said.
============================================================================ ======
" So what do you know about Grant's operation?" Oz asked Sven, his shotgun shoved into his neck.
We were at the stackboxes, you know down in the Blumeberg shipping district where they kept htose large steel shiiping continers. There was a whole yard of them, stacked up 3-4 high, in 5 triple rows of 4. We were on the edge of the yard, next ot the highway. I sat on the edge of the high waterfront, looking at the waves roll along, my Mp5K in my lap. Sven, our Russian captive was curled up into a ball in the trunk of Oz's sentinel. And as I said before, he had a shotgun shoved to the side of his neck.
" I tell you if I knew anything but I don't know jack your American pig!" Sven said, trembling in the cold wet weather.
WHAM!
Sven let otu a cry of pain and grasped at his shoulder. Oz had taken the butt of the shotgun's folding stock and rammed it bluntly into the Russian's side. I sighed and turned aroudn to face Oz.
" Why the hell are we doing this?" I asked him sharply. " All we were supposed to do was kill these Russian guys, not put them in a trunk and drive em out to the middle of nowhere to beat the hell out of them."
" Michael, remember the guy with the Nine in the Diner this morning?" He asked me.
" Yeah? So?" I shot back.
" Well he was part of the Russian mob, and he wanted the money." Oz explained. " Now since im funded by Grant's organization, and this stickman wanted the money. I naturally want to know what the Russians want with Grant's-"
" Wait." Sven spoke up wearily. " Michael...Michael Vehcetti?"
" Yeah." I responded. " Whats it to you?"
" My employer's are interested in taking over your Uncle's operation down south." Sven explained.
" WHAT?!?!" I screamed. I got up and walked over to him, grabbed him by his lapel and screamed in his face; " WHAT THE HELL DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THE VERCETTI'S?!?!"
" The Vercetti operation has Vice City on a leash." Sven explained. " You guys deal in dope, and have a hold on the police, the businesses and the highest courts."
BREEEEP BREEEEP
A dellphone went off in Sven's jacket, he struggled ot get it but was met with a another crack to the side with the shotgun stock. I searched his pockets and found a small sleek cellphone. I flipped it open and said nothing.
" Sven?" A russian voice rang in my ears. " Sven? Where are you? I heard the others were killed at the Cafe', are you ok?"
" Your buddy Sven is fine at the moment." I said gravely. " Who is this?"
" Who is this?" The voice shot back.
" I asked you first." I mocked in a little kid matter. " Listen, if you want your precious Sven back. Go to the docks in an hour, wait outside warehouse number 6."
With that I flipped the cellphone shut and pocketed it.
TO BE CONTINUED
Chapter 4
"You ready?" Oz asked me as he shifted the Sentinel into second. I nodded back. The car was gaining speed, the engine roaring. We swerved through traffic avoiding hitting passing cars. the people who walked by on the strip turned to colorful blurs. We were quickly approaching a corner Cafe' that sat on a sharp corner in the business district, our target(s) current position.
Wham!
We plowed into hte eating area of the Cafe', green folding chair flying in every which direction. The few people sitting outside on a day like today scattered like cochroaches when the lights go on. 4 men sat at a table next to the cafe's front door. Two wore suits while the other two wore long black trenchcoats. Oz stopped the car with a jolt and pulled himself out through his window, shotgun in hand. I leaned out the window with my MP5k. The men took one look at us and freaked out. Oz and I fired, both hitting one of hte men in the suits (whom was terribly balding) and his body gaurd who was pulling a H&K PDW out of his coat. The other man and his bodyguard took of into the Cafe'.
Oz jumped out of the stallion and strolled quickly over to the guys we had just shot up and checked for a pulse. They were dead. I pulled myself from the car and ran into the cafe' after them. I ran through the eating area and jumped over the counter into the kitchen. I found my way through the maze of cooking equipment and people shouting orders, and found the back door. As I turned the corner past a parition automatic fire rang out in the kitchen. I stumbled back, barely missed getting shot. I looekd over and saw the bodyguard storm out the back door. I got back on my feet and slammed through the door into the trades alley.
To my left was boarded up and littered by a dumpster full of trash. To my right down towards hte open end of the alley, was the other man in the suit and his hired hand not far behind making their grand escape. I ran after them, firing my subgun wildly. My shots connected with the body guard's back cutting him down. But I was going ot lose my target if I didn't keep up. I tossed away my weapon and drew my .45 to go faster. The man in the suit had gotten to the end of the alley and onto the street when-
WHUMP!
He collided with front side of Oz's sentinel. He landed on the hood skidding to the other side and landing out of side. Oz jumped out of his vehicle toting his 12 guage. I ran around to the other side and kept my glock trained on the target, whom was sitting up against the front left tire. His name was Sven Vlashnikov, a well respected figure in the Russian mob scene. He wore a black suit and had a large burn scar on his right cheek. His face was always a scowl.
Oz bent over and reached inside Sen's coat, pulling out a Makarov. He ejected the clip and tossed the small handgun into the gutter. I heard sirens approaching.
" Shit, what do we do?" I asked Oz.
" We'll take him to the stack boxes." He replied.
============================================================================ ======
" You sure this is the place?" Gunner asked Wong.
" Yeah, this where I deliver all the time." He replied nervously wringing his hands. " They check everyone for weapons, with a 12 guage in your face."
" Interesting." Gunner said looking at the building. " So how come they never found your piece?"
" I just bought that gun today." Wong replied. " 250 dollars, you gonna give it back?"
" Nope, consider that I did you a favor and kept you from breaking your parole." Gunner said. " Now get out of here."
Wong grumbled and got out of the Karuma, slamming the door shut behind him. Wong walked furiously odwn the street, his hands shoved in his pockets. They were in the lower part of China town, a part littered with seedy joints. The place Wong had pointed out to The Detective was a two story building, a Chinese Butcher on the ground floor and a apartment on the top floor. In a trades alley behind the butcher's and a unmarked building(probably a crack house; Gunner thought to himself.) there was a set of metal stairs leadign up to a blue door marked trades.
Gunner got out of his vehicle and jogged across the street. He shuddered at the skinned ducks hanging in the window of the butcher's and pressed on. He walked halfway up the metal stair case but stopped half way, and un- holstered his glock; checking hte magazine. He re-holstered the gun and continued up to the trades door. He looked around cautiously and knocked on the door three times. A eyehole planted under the trades sign opened up and a blank eye stared back at him.
" River City Police Department." Gunner said plainly, holding his badge up. " I have osme questions about R.H. Grant?"
The eye disappeared and the hole closed. A buss rang out form inside the apartment and the heavy steel door creaked open slowly. Gunner walked in, the room was dark, but he could make out the outlines of a cheap dineatte set, a kitchen area but room beyond it was extremely dark. Gunner pulled a small maglight out of his pocket and switched it on. It flickered to life with protest, but hten went blank. Gunner sighed and smacked the side of it. It turned on again, he owuld have to get new batteries for it. He swept the weak beam around hte room, there was no one in sight...
BAM!
A shot whizzed by Gunner's head, someone pushed pass him and out the door he came in. Gunner un-holstered his wepaon and ran out the door. He got outside and saw his shooter hurrying down the steps, brandishing a Colt M1911. Gunner raised his weapon and shouted; " FREEZE!"
The shooter froze in his spot on cue. " Drop you weapon!" Gunner shouted, the shooter did so. " Now put your hands over your head and turn around very slowly." He commanded, the guy did so. It turned out to be Spencer Holden; one of Grant's bodyguard's. He wore a black trench coat(the H.R. Grant crew's signature) and his hair was buzz cut.
" Well, Well Well, Dect. Ryan Gunner." Spencer said, with a heavy cockney accent.
" Spencer Holden I see." Ryan said walking down the steps holstering his gun. " You do realise attempting to kill a cop is an offense in this country."
" Meh, same over in Great Britain." He said lowering his hands. " What do ya' wanna know a 'bout Grant?"
" What he's been up to." Gunner said patting Spencer down for anymore weapons, and finding none. " I ain't gonna book you, seeing as I'm in the middle of a triple homicide investigation. So spill it."
" So' right, here's the deal." Spence said. " All's I know's is that Grant hired this kid of from I think Florida? To do some dirty work for him. Word on the street is that The Oz man is involved somehow."
" The Oz man?" Gunner asked. " The illegal gun broker?"
" Yeah's, how many people in this town go by the name 'Oz' anyway?" Holden replied.
" Alright, so what do you know about this kid from down south?" Gunner asked.
" Ah ,I think the lboke is like hte nephew of this doper in Vice City. Tommy...uhm...Tommy somethin'"
" Vercetti?" Gunner asked trying to refresh his memory.
" Yeah, Tommy Vercetti." Spencer repleid snapping his fingers.
" Alright so where can I find these two?" Gunner asked.
" Ah, I don't know." Spencer said. " I guess this kid would be sqautting with Oz, but he's always on the run. Why don't you try asking around Oz's old haunt? You know the Ammu-nation downtown."
" Will do." Gunner said walking past him. " At the bottom of the steps he turned around and said: " But stay out of trouble."
" Right back at ya." Spencer said.
============================================================================ ======
" So what do you know about Grant's operation?" Oz asked Sven, his shotgun shoved into his neck.
We were at the stackboxes, you know down in the Blumeberg shipping district where they kept htose large steel shiiping continers. There was a whole yard of them, stacked up 3-4 high, in 5 triple rows of 4. We were on the edge of the yard, next ot the highway. I sat on the edge of the high waterfront, looking at the waves roll along, my Mp5K in my lap. Sven, our Russian captive was curled up into a ball in the trunk of Oz's sentinel. And as I said before, he had a shotgun shoved to the side of his neck.
" I tell you if I knew anything but I don't know jack your American pig!" Sven said, trembling in the cold wet weather.
WHAM!
Sven let otu a cry of pain and grasped at his shoulder. Oz had taken the butt of the shotgun's folding stock and rammed it bluntly into the Russian's side. I sighed and turned aroudn to face Oz.
" Why the hell are we doing this?" I asked him sharply. " All we were supposed to do was kill these Russian guys, not put them in a trunk and drive em out to the middle of nowhere to beat the hell out of them."
" Michael, remember the guy with the Nine in the Diner this morning?" He asked me.
" Yeah? So?" I shot back.
" Well he was part of the Russian mob, and he wanted the money." Oz explained. " Now since im funded by Grant's organization, and this stickman wanted the money. I naturally want to know what the Russians want with Grant's-"
" Wait." Sven spoke up wearily. " Michael...Michael Vehcetti?"
" Yeah." I responded. " Whats it to you?"
" My employer's are interested in taking over your Uncle's operation down south." Sven explained.
" WHAT?!?!" I screamed. I got up and walked over to him, grabbed him by his lapel and screamed in his face; " WHAT THE HELL DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THE VERCETTI'S?!?!"
" The Vercetti operation has Vice City on a leash." Sven explained. " You guys deal in dope, and have a hold on the police, the businesses and the highest courts."
BREEEEP BREEEEP
A dellphone went off in Sven's jacket, he struggled ot get it but was met with a another crack to the side with the shotgun stock. I searched his pockets and found a small sleek cellphone. I flipped it open and said nothing.
" Sven?" A russian voice rang in my ears. " Sven? Where are you? I heard the others were killed at the Cafe', are you ok?"
" Your buddy Sven is fine at the moment." I said gravely. " Who is this?"
" Who is this?" The voice shot back.
" I asked you first." I mocked in a little kid matter. " Listen, if you want your precious Sven back. Go to the docks in an hour, wait outside warehouse number 6."
With that I flipped the cellphone shut and pocketed it.
TO BE CONTINUED