holdall, bulletproof vests,
sawnoffs and numerous handguns, said,
“They’re expecting us at the club, reason I’ve been
casing it, let them think I’m going to go in there,
and McCarthy, they’re waiting too, but Fernandez,
he visits a little chickie on the West Side, gets
himself a bit of poontang before he goes clubbing,
that’s where we’re going, now, you still up for it?”
I began to put on the vest, asked, “Take a wild
guess?” We were good to go and Kebar said,
“Glad to have you on board, kid.”
The duality, hell of a word that, isn’t it, was in full
force, I liked Kebar but I had made my plans and
with regret, I sneaked a look at him, he really did
see me as his backup guy, I think this is where
other people feel that thing they call regret, I don’t
know about that but both sides of me were at war
about my intended action.
On the way to the West Side, we didn’t talk,
double-checked our firepower. The street was
deserted and Kebar pointed to a run-down
apartment, said, “He’s on the ground floor.”
Checked his watch, said, “He should be just about
getting his ashes hauled now.” I asked, “This is not
an arrest?” He said, “Not too late for you to bail.”
We jimmied the door with a small pick, went in
real quiet and a guy was dozing on a recliner,
Kebar shot him in the gut then kicked in the
bedroom door, Fernandez was indeed on the job
and Kebar opened up with the Magnum, a volley of
shots, not much chance the lady was going to
survive.
Kebar came back out, said,
“Scatter those packages of coke all over the place,
make it look like a dope deal gone to shit.”
Like that was going to fly.
Kebar was surveying the scene when I moved up to
him, whispered.
” ‘Twas me fucked your sister.”
His howl of anguish was cut short by the two
rounds I put in his skull.
I think you can figure which side of my duality won
out.
I had to move fast but didn’t really feel hurried, I
had it all mapped out in my head.
Left Kebar’s car at the scene, caught the train, then
grabbed a cab, had him go past Fernandez’s club,
saw Gino was in place. I had his apartment from
traffic citations.
I had the cab drop me about five blocks from there
and then strolled over. Easy to boost his door, the
dumb fuck, didn’t he ever hear of deadlocks?
Boy, did I get lucky, found the envelope with the
picture of me accepting the money from Morronni
under a pile of dirty socks.
I cleaned the Ruger, still smelled the cordite from
the recent firing, and I stashed it in a rag under his
mattress, and reluctantly, my last two remaining
sets of green
Hated like hell to let them go.
Walked another five blocks, then made a call to
911, reported shots from Fernandez’s address.
Then I caught the train to Brooklyn, had me a large
Jameson and chicken on rye, put lots of mayo on, I
love that stuff, I turned on the TV and caught an
episode of Veronica Mars, jeez, she is so hot.
I wondered how she’d look with the beads.
Turned in shortly after, man, I was beat. Next day,
all kinds of shitstorms had erupted.
I was summoned to O’Brien’s office, where
regretfully, he informed me that Kebar had been
killed after he attempted to arrest Fernandez. As a
matter of form, he asked where I was and I said I’d
been home watching the ball game, this was the
two hours before Veronica Mars.
I asked if I could see the head of the task force.
O’Brien was surprised but made the call.
Peters arrived, mumbled something about sorry for
the loss of my partner, he almost sounded sincere.
Almost.
I said,
“I’ve been following Gino for a while and I jotted
down some of the neighborhoods he was cruising
in.”
Peters said,
‘So?’
“I checked the papers, those are the places the girls
were strangled.”
He chewed my arse about going out on my own and
when he was done, I asked,
“You want to hear the rest or not?”
He did, begrudgingly. I
sawnoffs and numerous handguns, said,
“They’re expecting us at the club, reason I’ve been
casing it, let them think I’m going to go in there,
and McCarthy, they’re waiting too, but Fernandez,
he visits a little chickie on the West Side, gets
himself a bit of poontang before he goes clubbing,
that’s where we’re going, now, you still up for it?”
I began to put on the vest, asked, “Take a wild
guess?” We were good to go and Kebar said,
“Glad to have you on board, kid.”
The duality, hell of a word that, isn’t it, was in full
force, I liked Kebar but I had made my plans and
with regret, I sneaked a look at him, he really did
see me as his backup guy, I think this is where
other people feel that thing they call regret, I don’t
know about that but both sides of me were at war
about my intended action.
On the way to the West Side, we didn’t talk,
double-checked our firepower. The street was
deserted and Kebar pointed to a run-down
apartment, said, “He’s on the ground floor.”
Checked his watch, said, “He should be just about
getting his ashes hauled now.” I asked, “This is not
an arrest?” He said, “Not too late for you to bail.”
We jimmied the door with a small pick, went in
real quiet and a guy was dozing on a recliner,
Kebar shot him in the gut then kicked in the
bedroom door, Fernandez was indeed on the job
and Kebar opened up with the Magnum, a volley of
shots, not much chance the lady was going to
survive.
Kebar came back out, said,
“Scatter those packages of coke all over the place,
make it look like a dope deal gone to shit.”
Like that was going to fly.
Kebar was surveying the scene when I moved up to
him, whispered.
” ‘Twas me fucked your sister.”
His howl of anguish was cut short by the two
rounds I put in his skull.
I think you can figure which side of my duality won
out.
I had to move fast but didn’t really feel hurried, I
had it all mapped out in my head.
Left Kebar’s car at the scene, caught the train, then
grabbed a cab, had him go past Fernandez’s club,
saw Gino was in place. I had his apartment from
traffic citations.
I had the cab drop me about five blocks from there
and then strolled over. Easy to boost his door, the
dumb fuck, didn’t he ever hear of deadlocks?
Boy, did I get lucky, found the envelope with the
picture of me accepting the money from Morronni
under a pile of dirty socks.
I cleaned the Ruger, still smelled the cordite from
the recent firing, and I stashed it in a rag under his
mattress, and reluctantly, my last two remaining
sets of green
Hated like hell to let them go.
Walked another five blocks, then made a call to
911, reported shots from Fernandez’s address.
Then I caught the train to Brooklyn, had me a large
Jameson and chicken on rye, put lots of mayo on, I
love that stuff, I turned on the TV and caught an
episode of Veronica Mars, jeez, she is so hot.
I wondered how she’d look with the beads.
Turned in shortly after, man, I was beat. Next day,
all kinds of shitstorms had erupted.
I was summoned to O’Brien’s office, where
regretfully, he informed me that Kebar had been
killed after he attempted to arrest Fernandez. As a
matter of form, he asked where I was and I said I’d
been home watching the ball game, this was the
two hours before Veronica Mars.
I asked if I could see the head of the task force.
O’Brien was surprised but made the call.
Peters arrived, mumbled something about sorry for
the loss of my partner, he almost sounded sincere.
Almost.
I said,
“I’ve been following Gino for a while and I jotted
down some of the neighborhoods he was cruising
in.”
Peters said,
‘So?’
“I checked the papers, those are the places the girls
were strangled.”
He chewed my arse about going out on my own and
when he was done, I asked,
“You want to hear the rest or not?”
He did, begrudgingly. I
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