Chapter 4
Jason stepped outside the terminal, his bag slung over his shoulder. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone, and then he flipped it open and dialed a number. He waited for a few seconds, until a voice came from the other side,
"Jason, how's it going?"
"How did you know it was me?"
"A little thing called caller I.D., it comes with every cell you know."
"Oh, right."
"So, how's Liberty?"
"Not a clue,"
"Why?"
"It turns out; the plane had to stop five fricking times,"
"What!"
"Yeah, and a couple o' goons raided the plane and tried to waste someone."
"Shit,"
"I know. Anyway, now I'm in Vice, and I have not a fucking clue as to where to go."
"Vice, huh?" Jason heard Leroy set the phone down, and start shuffling some papers around,
"Lee! What's wrong?" then he heard him pick the phone back up,
"Hey, J, listen up. I have a correspondent in Vice, I'll call and tell him to wait for you."
"What about your man in Liberty?"
"Who? Toni? I'll tell him you got held up, he'll understand."
"Alright. So where's this other guy?"
"Meet him at the Ocean View Hotel in Ocean Beach."
"Alright, talk to you later."
"Yeah." And the phone clicked as Leroy hung up. Jason ran across the road, hoping to catch the 'Sunshine Autos' bus. From the auto retailer, he would take a taxi; it was better than paying a taxi to go all the way to the hotel.
The yellow VC Cab pulled up to the hotel, and Jason stepped out; he handed the driver his money, and walked up the front steps. Then, a man wearing a blue tropical shirt ran through the front door, wielding a chrome shotgun. The cabbie pushed on the gas and sped off,
"And don't you fucking come back here again!" said the man, swinging the gun in the air,
"Whoa! Careful old man!" said Jason, dodging the flailing barrel. The man then spun around and eyed Jason angrily,
"Who you callin' old man, you little son of a bitch!" Jason winced,
"Jeez, sorry old-… sorry."
"You must be Jason." He said, lowering the firearm "Come on, I have a room for you."
"Actually, it's Frank."
"Lee told me about your whole, 'Witness Protection' I.D."
"Oh,"
"Anyway, come on. I'll show you your room." So the man made his way up the short flight of stairs, and Jason followed behind. When they got to the second level, they turned, and walked down the hallway. "There," said the man "that's your room. By the way, the name's Tommy Vercetti."
"Thanks Tommy," said Jason, stepping inside. He lowered his bag onto the ground and took a look around, "This could be a good place to crash for a while." He set himself on the bed, and lay back, when he heard the screeching of car tires outside his room window; he looked out, to see men dressed in brown coats stepping out of two cars; they were Sindaccos, obviously coming for him. "Tommy!" he cried out,
"What's wrong, kid?" Tommy responded by rushing to the room, tightly clutching his shotgun.
"Sindaccos!" shouted Jason, "They're coming for me!"
"Sindaccos? I thought those chumps gave up years ago!"
"No time to talk about it! Hand me a gun!" and in response, Tommy rushed down the corridor, and returned, clutching a Mac-10,
"Here!" he said, as he tossed it to him. The two men made their way down the stairs and went through the front door, only to be greeted by eight Sindaccos, each carrying a 9mm handgun. Tommy pulled back on his gun, and he heard it click, and he confidently said, "Bring it on, shit-heads."
Before anything else could be said, bullets were madly flying, 9mm and 10mm mostly, as Tommy didn't want to fire too much. A 9mm shot, clipped Jason in the right arm, and he stepped back, he was glad to be left handed; he lifted his Mac, and squeezed the trigger without hesitation, the gun shook, as shots came spraying out, two or three men dropped, but four more stood tall. They aimed their guns carefully at Jason and were about to fire when Tommy pulled back the trigger on his gun, and several broken pellets flew out the barrel, each one hitting someone. All the men lay motionless on the ground, some groaning in agony, others totally silent; they were surely dead.
One of the men then sat up and held his gun up to Jason, his hand shaking, "I came to do a job, and I'm gonna do it," but before he could fire, Jason leapt towards him, and grabbed him by the collar
"Where's Paul!" he questioned, but the man didn't answer; his eyes rolled back into his head, and he stopped breathing. "Crap, lost 'im." He set him down, and threw the Mac onto the ground by Tommy's feet, which were in a small puddle of blood,
"Now do you mind explaining to me what's going on?"
Tommy and Jason sat at a table in the Burger Shot Restaurant; Jason was munching on a double meat stack, while Tommy was picking at his salad,
"So you're telling me, that your bro was the head of probably, the biggest crime league in San Andreas?" he said, sticking his fork, full of lettuce, into his mouth,
"Yeah,"
"And all it took to take him down was Paulie Junior?"
"Yeah," he said, his voice muffled as he had a piece of burger in his mouth
"I don't know," said Tommy, scratching his grey hair, "Somehow I'm not buying that the Sindaccos did this on their own,"
"I never said they did," said Jason, ready to take a sip of his Sprunk, Tommy let out a small chuckle,
"Well, that's true. But if they did get help… from whom did they get it?"
"Not too sure, answered Jason, as he pulled a fry from the bag, then a shrill ring could be heard, both he and Tommy reached into their pockets, "That's mine," he said, as he felt it vibrate in his hand, so he pulled it out and flipped it open. "Hello?"
"Jason?" asked the voice on the phone,
"Yes,"
"It's me, Sakura."
"Sakura? What's going on? Wait… how did you get my number?"
"That's not something you should worry about right now. Listen, I want to talk to you, but I need you to meet me as soon as possible, I'm leaving for Liberty City in a couple of hours."
"Okay, then where to find you?"
"Meet me at the Pole Position Club, in Ocean Beach." And the phone clicked, as she hung up,
"Who was that?" asked Tommy, cleaning up his tray
"It was someone I met on the plane," said Jason, as he slipped the phone back into his pocket, "Do you know how I can get to the Pole Position Club?"
"Get to it?" asked Tommy sarcastically, "I own it. Along with The Malibu; Sunshine Autos; The Boatyard and some other places. How do your think I got my car? And everything else I have?"
"Whatever," said Jason, rising from his seat, "How fast can you get me to the Club?"
"With a car like mine… faster than you can say 'oh shit'."
Tommy's gleaming white Infernus sped down Washington Beach, swerving left and right; it rushed past the Malibu Club, as it came up to a ramp; then Tommy pressed on the gas harder, and flew off the ramp, Jason cried out,
"OHH SHIIIIIT!" the car flew over two others, and hit the ground and continued to fly down the streets. When the two came up the Pole Position, Tommy slammed the brakes, and the car screeched as it slowed to a stop. As Jason stepped out, his foot rubbed against the tire, and it burned him, "Ow, crap! Could you've braked any harder!"
Tommy peered through the driver's seat window, "Don't hate it, appreciate it." And he sped off,
"You'd better be coming back for me!"