The Dysfunctional Mob – Part 33


“Because that dot on his forehead, is proof that I can get to you, anywhere,” I answered, pointing to the guy with the machine gun and Apex’s scope trained on him.

“Want me to take him out?”  Apex asked in my ear.

“Not yet,” I answered.

“Not yet what?”  The man who had been speaking to me asked.

“My sniper asked if I wanted him to drop your gun toting goon.  I answered.”  I told him.

“I do not believe you.”  He said.

“Now,” I told Apex.  The shot was barely audible in the room.  I heard glass tinkle as it fell to the floor and almost immediately blood sprayed the walls and the people closet to machine gun guy. 

“Do I have your undivided attention, now?”  I asked.  Everyone nodded as Vasilli spoke, I was betting he was repeating what I had said, translating from English to Russian for those that didn’t speak English.

“We did not think you had such violence in you,” the man told me.  I nodded, knowing this already.  I hadn’t flinched at the blood and gore that spattered the place or the now dead man lying on the floor, his gun about a foot from my feet.  In a worst-case scenario, I now had a gun.

“My suggestion is that you all fall in line behind him,” I told them.  “I have given him the money to start consolidating his power because I believe once the serial killer problem is solved, he has the ability to keep you all reined in.  Furthermore, by helping to consolidate one person as head of all the faction, I expect that one person to be able to provide the security I ask for.”  I told them all.  Vasilli was speaking near me, in Russian, again translating for those that didn’t speak English, which seemed wasteful since almost everyone in the room seemed to speak English.  It was possible I was the only person who wasn’t bilingual.

“He should put the money where all of us can access it in case you fail to capture the serial killer.”  The man told me.

“I am not capturing your serial killer for you.”  I corrected him.  “I have already dealt with all the serial killers I’m going to deal with for the next five years or so.  I am going to give you the tools to find him yourself.”

“Tools?”  The man said, skeptical.

“You know the men under you better than I do and that is one of the keys to this, he is someone in the organizations already, someone who can move between factions without it being noticeable.”

“No one fits that description,” the man disagreed with me.

“Sure, they do,” I answered. 

“You all use the same contract killers and runners,” Zeke told him.

“Except this guy wants power, but can’t take it, because he isn’t Russian.  He resents that a woman can have more power than he can.  I have been told he is most likely a Chechen contract killer and he’s taking trophies.  This means if you can think of someone that fits the description, you can check his house for the proof you need.”

“Chechens do not become contract killers,” the man told me.

“Why?”  I asked.  There was some squabbling for a few moments between the higher ups in the room.  This was why a serial killer was picking them off, they couldn’t even agree to disagree long enough to find the serial killer.  “Stop.” I nearly shouted at them, annoyed by the excessive noise of them arguing. 

“This is why he is killing you all,” I told them.  “You are going to have to work together to get him.”

“Not really,” the man who had argued that Chechens couldn’t be contract killers said to me, he pointed his gun at one of the goons he had brought with him and pulled the trigger.  One moment the man was standing, the next he wasn’t, and blood was pooling on the floor around him.  I took a step towards Zeke, mostly to keep the pooling blood from getting on my boots.  There was another small sound, almost like a champagne cork popping out of a bottle and then more blood.  The man that had been arguing with me was dead. 

“Your sniper is very good, Dama Nadine,” one of the other men who wore a very expensive suit and too much jewelry said to me.

“You should leave before this gets more complicated,” Apex said in my ear.

I wanted to tell him it was too late for that and ask why he had just shot the man that had been arguing with me, but I resisted.  Instead, I looked at the mobster I had originally intended to meet.

“Good luck, I am leaving,” I told him.

“No, I’m sorry, I cannot allow that,” he told me.

“Are you insane?”  I asked before I could stop myself.  He nodded, and I suddenly realized I had backed the wrong mobster.

“I didn’t care if you caught the serial killer, I was going to consolidate my power regardless.”  He told me.

All rights reserved.  Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author.

This book is a work of fiction.  Any names, places, characters, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination and are purely fictitious.  Any resemblances to any persons, living or dead, are completely coincidental.

Copyright © Hadena James 2016

All Rights Reserved

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