MOB RULES (James Harris Book 2) Page 17

  “Could you guys give me a minute alone with our guest?”

  “Of course,” one of the men replied with a smile. He and his partner stood and walked out of the room. The door closed.

  “Okay,” Vinny spoke up. “What are you gonna do now, tough guy?”

  “All right, scumbag, here it is. Get me a fucking name. Get me something to use or maybe I leak it to Tony myself that you’re the fucking rat.”

  “Hey, fuck you, cop!” Vinny stood up, pushing his chair back with such force that it fell onto its side. “You can’t do that shit!”

  “You’re right, as a police officer I can’t. But what I do as a private citizen is my own business.”

  “This is some bullshit. You want to get me whacked?”

  “Listen, Vinny. One thing you’ve got on your side is that you’re sneaky little fuck. Ask around. Bring it up casually like you’re just curious who took the contract. Figure it out.”

  “You’re bluffing. Without me you got no case. You wouldn’t tell Tony shit.”

  “Maybe,” Shannon said as he nodded his head. “But let me tell you something. Harris is a good friend of mine. So, knowing that, are you willing to bet your life?”

  Vinny studied the man with contempt. He weighed his options and then it dawned on him. If he took his time, they’d probably find Harris’ body before long and he’d be off the hook. Plus, he reasoned, he could always keep his mouth shut for a little while and then feed them some bullshit.

  “All right,” Vinny finally said. “I’ll poke around a bit. But I want that million up front.”

  Shannon burst out laughing.

  “You think that’s a joke?” Vinny asked as his mood soured again.

  “No Vinny,” Blake answered as he stopped laughing. He walked over and opened the door. “I think you’re a joke. Get me some intel and do it quick. Otherwise I’m punching your ticket.”

  Blake Shannon walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  Mob Rules

  48

  Harris’ face was contorted in agony. The veins in his neck pulsed and looked as if they’d burst out from under the skin. He clenched his teeth and stared straight up at the ceiling as his body convulsed in pain and shock. He refused to cry out, to let this savage get the best of him.

  Rabi sawed with quick back and forth motions and got through the bone in less than half a minute. The finger came off.

  With a proud smile, he held it up for Harris to see. Harris’ chest heaved and his breathing was labored as he tried to deal with the excruciating pain.

  “One down,” Rabi said calmly. He tossed the finger aside nonchalantly as if it were a chewing gum wrapper.

  Harris hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut. As shock was setting in, he tried to convince himself that this was just a nightmare, a horribly realistic and graphic nightmare.

  “Hey Harris,” Rabi whispered, snapping him back to reality. “You listening, puto?”

  Harris raised his head and locked eyes with the man. The fury in his face was beyond control. His eyes felt as if they’d pop out of their sockets and his cheeks shook with a rage he’d never experienced in his life. He was glad for it, as it actually lessened the pain. Harris knew he was going to die but his only thought was that he wished he could have just one shot at this man.

  “Fuck you and the whore who gave birth to you!” Harris sprayed saliva as he growled in anger.

  Rabi smiled broadly, his face feigned surprise.

  “Damn, man! How’d you know my mother was a ho?” He asked with a laugh.

  The men behind him all joined in the laughter.

  “Maybe that’s why I’m so fucked up, homes?” Rabi smirked at Harris. He pointed the tip of the blood soaked knife at him and made tiny dancing motions, jabbing towards him.

  “Get on with it you coward,” Harris hissed, not flinching a bit as the tip of the blade just missed his face with each thrust.

  “What’s the hurry, amigo? We got all day. Only nine more fingers and then we start on your toes.”

  Once again, fear crashed onto the beachhead of pain causing Harris to swallow hard against his will. It infuriated him and he shook his entire body, trying vainly to break loose from the chair.

  “And guess where we’re going after that, Harris?” Rabi laughed again. He was having a good time.

  Harris began to rock violently, hoping to tip himself over. Rabi simply grabbed the back of the chair and prevented it from happening. It was futile.

  “Come on now, pig,” Rabi taunted. “Scream for me and I promise I’ll go a little quicker.”

  Harris’ chest continued to heave as he hyperventilated, his body trying desperately to handle the stress. He hung his head low but looked up with his eyes and showed Rabi his teeth in a primal growl.

  “Fuck you,” he gasped.

  “Okay, man. Have it your way.”

  Rabi grabbed Harris’ ring finger. It was easy to get a hold of as the pinky was no longer there.

  There was nothing Harris could do and he set his jaw and slammed his eyes shut in anticipation of what was to come.

  “Nice ring, homes,” Rabi said with a laugh. He placed the knife blade at the base of the finger, directly behind the wedding ring.

  “Hey man,” he added with a chuckle. “I’m about to give you a divorce!”

  The rest of Rabi’s men laughed.

  “And I ain’t even gonna rape you like a lawyer would!”

  “Fuck you,” Harris whispered in a low hush. He gave up, resigned to his fate, and stared at the ground as Rabi began to cut.

  The pain slammed into his brain as the knife, once again, cut easily through the skin and hit bone. Harris squeezed his eyes shut again.

  He heard the first shot as a surreal explosion that occurred deep within the recesses of his brain. There was no time to decipher it. The second and third shots snapped him out of his fog. Harris looked up to see four men rush into the room, guns drawn and firing. Time slowed to a crawl and Rabi spun around in slow motion as the first man through the door rushed him and swung his pistol in an arcing blow that caught the gang leader on the side of his head. Julio’s camcorder flew out of his hand as a bullet slammed into his side. Harris saw the three other men fall as bullets cut short their attempts to draw their own weapons. In a matter of seconds, it was over. Each of the men who had burst in to the room must have fired at least six times. It sounded like popcorn popping. Rabi was laid out to the left of the chair.

  Time sped back up to normal.

  Harris, stunned, looked on in disbelief as the group gathered around him.

  “All clear,” one of the men spoke loudly. He then walked to the back of the room where one of the gang bangers lay groaning loudly, clutching his side.

  “Shut up,” the man growled. He kicked the man hard in the ribs.

  A large figure appeared in the doorway. He quickly surveyed the damage and then turned to smile at Harris.

  “Hey Jimmy,” Tony spoke with a warm smile as if he’d just bumped into an old friend on the street. “How ya doing?”

  “Holy shit,” Harris spoke in a hush.

  He closed his eyes and lowered his head as the enormity of what had just transpired slammed into him. He had given himself up for dead. What’s more, he had known that with his death, it was very likely that Bonnie and Danny would also fall under the knife of Rabi. Throughout the pain and shock of the entire ordeal, he had been unable to fully accept that fate, although in the back recesses of his mind, he knew it would happen. He knew that he had failed them. There was no hope. And yet, the impossible had happened. The man who had been in the process of butchering him lay at his feet. It was really over and he was going to live.

  Harris felt a tugging at his arms and his entire body flinched, his eyes flying open in panic. It was one of Tony’s men, cutting him loose.

  “Relax, Captain,” Tony spoke with surprising softness. “You’re safe.”

  The bonds that held his wrists and ank
les were quickly dealt with and Harris instinctively grabbed his mangled left hand with his right. He grimaced as he made contact with the fleshy stub where his pinky finger used to be.

  “Carmine,” Tony ordered. “Go wrap that.”

  A man walked over and knelt beside Harris. He produced a white handkerchief from his pocket and extended his hand, palm up, towards the injured officer.

  Harris hesitated and stared at the man, sizing him up.

  “Easy, Captain,” the man spoke. “This ain’t my first rodeo. It’s gonna hurt like hell but it’ll stop the bleeding.”

  Harris nodded slightly and as he grit his teeth, let go of his left hand and offered it to the man. Carmine expertly twisted the white linen and using the edge of the cloth, wrapped it tightly around the small stump of flesh and bone. Harris remained still, suffering through the pain as the man wrapped it tight and then tied it off. Most of the handkerchief hung limply, but the thin edge did the trick.

  “If you get to the hospital quickly, they can maybe reattach that thing.” Carmine took a few steps behind the chair and bent at the waist. He picked up the finger and offered it to Harris.

  Harris stared briefly at his severed appendage. He then held his damaged hand up and inspected it. His ring finger also had a nasty cut but Rabi hadn’t gotten deep into the bone yet.

  “There’s no time,” he finally spoke with a shake of his head. He looked up at Tony who had watched in silence as his man administered first aid.

  “How?” Harris asked, the shock still plastered on his face.

  “I thought you might need some help. So I had a couple guys watch the place.”

  “I-I don’t even have the words, Tony,” Harris spoke quietly.

  “Sure you do,” The underboss laughed. “But we’ll discuss that later.”

  He turned to address his men.

  “Any still breathing?”

  “Yeah, boss,” one of his men replied. He pointed to the man he had kicked just moments before. “This guy here. But it don’t look like he’ll be sticking around very long. Want me to finish him?”

  “No!” Harris said loudly. “You’ve done enough.”

  The man looked to Tony who simply shook his head.

  “What do you want us to do with this mook?” Tony pointed to Rabi.

  Harris stood on wobbly legs. Carmine offered an arm but he shook his head. As he glared down at the prone figure, he felt a tsunami of anger flood over him. It helped to give him strength.

  “Tony,” he said. “Can you do me one more favor and tie his legs and his arms behind his back?”

  “Sure thing, Jimmy. But you sure you don’t want us to just cap him? Nobody would ever question it.”

  “No. I need some answers.”

  “Maybe you want to get to the hospital so they can have a shot at reattaching that finger?” The underboss suggested, pointing down at Harris’ hand. “Time is of the essence in these matters.”

  “Fuck my finger,” Harris spat. “This is more important.”

  “Okay. Do it,” Tony ordered his men. Two of the mobsters quickly went over and, using the ropes that had bound Harris to the chair, tied Rabi up as Harris had asked.

  “And now?” Tony asked.

  “Now I need you to leave. Wait downstairs. Obviously I have to call this in and you’ll need to give your side of the story.”

  “And what is our story?” He asked with a grin.

  Harris hesitated, thinking of the best strategy.

  “Let’s just go with the truth. You gave me a tip and then, without my knowledge, followed to offer assistance. Tell them you were feeling civic minded,” he said, smiling weakly at Scalaro.

  “Sounds good to me. You think maybe the mayor will give us the key to the city?” The man laughed.

  “Tony,” Harris looked the man in the eye, emphasizing his words. “I cannot stress how important it is that you did this without my knowledge. Okay?”

  “Yeah, I understand how these things work.”

  “Good. Now I need to deal with this piece of shit and the clock is ticking here.”

  “You got it, Captain. Let’s go boys.”

  “Tony,” Harris said as the man turned to leave.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.” Harris gave him a tight lipped smile and a sincere nod of appreciation.

  “No problem, Jimmy. But you know what I need.”

  “I do. I will make it happen.”

  “Well there you go,” Tony replied with a smile. “A good days work all around.”

  He looked down at Rabi who was just beginning to stir.

  “Have fun with this animal,” he said as he turned and left the room.

  Harris stared down at Rabi and quickly considered his options. He then took three steps and bent to pick up the hunting knife.

  Mob Rules

  49

  Bonnie sat shivering on the top step of the decks staircase. The stairs led down to the back lawn and the forest beyond. The snow had been swept off the wooden surface but the temperature was still brutally cold.

  Not long ago she’d received a call from a familiar number. The area code was from Nassau County. Long Island.

  Bonnie had received a call from the same number some three months ago. Although it seemed like it had only been three weeks. She knew who it was before she answered.

  Now she sat on the top step of the wooden deck, twenty feet above the canopy of snow which covered the forest. She looked out into the trees as far as she could see. The ground was covered with a soft blanket of pristine ivory, marred only by a few random sets of footprints made by one of the many woodlands creatures that called this mountain home. It was so beautiful that it was almost hypnotic. So calm. So peaceful. A stark contrast to how she felt.

  Her phone lay beside her side on the clean wood and she sat with her knees drawn up tight against her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs. She didn’t even realize that she was rocking back and forth.

  She thought back to the last time she’d spoken with the mighty Sylvia Blumquist. It had taken place right after Jimmy had saved her daughter from the clutches of a drug kingpin bent on revenge against the woman’s husband. It was a sick and lurid affair. He’d kept her caged like an animal. He’d beaten and raped her and was in the process of killing her when Jimmy had swooped in to the rescue. It made national headlines and Jimmy had become a minor celebrity overnight.

  That was three months ago. But she remembered the number. Nobody else from that area code ever called her.

  The district attorney had called then to tell her what a great man her husband was, how he was the most courageous man she’d ever met. How if she ever needed anything all she had to do was call. Sylvia told her that she knew that the two had just separated and had tried to plug Jimmy by telling her what a great asset he was to New York City and the police department in general. She had told her that Jimmy was a rare man and that, of course, Bonnie must already know that seeing as how she’d married him. She told her how much Jimmy loved her.

  It was completely transparent but the D.A. had made no attempt to make it sound otherwise. Bonnie always wondered if, in some small way, Jimmy had put her up to it. But no, she decided, that wasn’t his style. It was a stupid thought.

  Now, for the second time, Bonnie had politely listened to the first female district attorney of New York, the fabulously wealthy Sylvia Blumquist, as she talked about her husband. Only this time she didn’t have anything good to say.

  It was all bad.

  Sylvia hadn’t tried to sugar coat it this time either, the woman was very direct as she laid out what she knew. Jimmy was a captive. The captors told her personally that they were going to kill him. The department had no idea who had him or where he was being held but it was almost certainly the same people who had been hired to kill them.

  Sylvia confirmed what Jimmy had told her last time they spoke. She told her about Christi’s kidnapping and how Jimmy had saved her. As twisted as it was, Bonnie felt r
evulsion hearing Christi’s name and even more anger hearing that her husband had saved her. She knew it was wrong, but the thought of that beautiful, younger woman being so close to her husband spiked her Irish blood and all she felt was cold fury.

  She managed to force those feelings to the back burner as she listened to what Sylvia was telling her. And why. As Bonnie was still Jimmy’s wife, she deserved to know what her husband was facing. The District Attorney thought telling her was the right thing to do, as painful as it was.

  Sylvia ended the call by saying that she hoped that she’d made the right decision in calling. Bonnie had assured her that she was grateful. She would have been even more upset if nobody had informed her.

  The called ended.

  Now Bonnie sat shivering as her mind ran through all of the different, terrible possibilities. All of her anger and all of her disappointment melted away as she thought that Jimmy might actually be murdered. That he might already be gone. That instead of being a divorcee, she would likely be a widow. She felt a horrible sense of dread. For herself. For Danny. The thought of him losing his father at such an important time in his young life was almost too much to bear. This was the nightmare she’d locked in her minds closet every time he hit the streets. Only now did she realize that it was this fear, as much as anything, that had eroded their marriage.

  The sun was setting.

  Bonnie sat outside for a very long time until the nights dropping temperature finally won the battle for her senses and drove her inside.

  Mob Rules

  50

  Rabi fixed Harris with an icy stare as the police officer paced the room from side to side. As the gang leader had regained full consciousness he’d panicked, struggling against the ropes that held his arms and legs fast. He quickly realized that it was futile. The tables had turned. Resigned to his fate, he’d relaxed and laid his head on the carpet. He looked past Harris to the bodies of his fallen comrades. If he felt one way or another about their deaths, he did not let on.

  Harris wore no expression, he simply looked down upon the man, with a blank stare. It had a chilling effect and Rabi was unsure how to respond. He watched Harris closely as the man paced back and forth, tapping the knife against his leg with his right hand. For the longest time the two simply stared at each other, each waiting on the other to make the first move, to say something. It was Rabi who cracked first.