Future Days Anthology, page 19
part #1 of The Days Series
Tiffany winked and smiled as she gently touched Denton on the shoulder. “Hey, big boy,” she said coyly, “Do you want a dance? Or maybe you’d prefer to take me upstairs? We had fun last time…What do you say, baby?”
“Sorry, baby girl, not tonight.” He replied.
Tiffany shrugged her shoulders and moved on. Denton felt like shit. Truth be told, he could have done with the company tonight, but he was so broke right now he couldn’t afford Tiffany’s prices…desperate times indeed.
He thought back to a night a couple of months back when he’d been able to afford Tiffany’s services for an evening. After the wild sex, they’d sat up and talked well into the early hours. Denton had always been a cynic and so was surprised to learn that Tiffany had once been an idealist, dreaming of escape and a better life – but the Pit had crushed her spirit, forcing her into stripping and prostitution to make ends meet. She’d ended that night in tears while he held and comforted her in a rare show of tenderness. They’d never spoken of that night again.
Back in the present, his longing eyes continued to follow the young woman as she walked across the floor and sought out potential customers. Tiffany latched onto a group of four middle-aged men sitting at a table close to the bar’s exit. Denton had hardly noticed these men before as they were intentionally keeping a low profile, drinking from two pitchers of beer while playing poker with an old-fashioned pack of cards.
Denton could tell from the overalls they wore that these men were ‘blue collars’ – that is, low-level operatives working for the corporations. Such men and women held the few semi-skilled or unskilled jobs which couldn’t be fully automated. Generally, they were technicians who spent their days carrying out minor repairs or staring at security monitors. The blue collars were at the bottom of the corporate hierarchy, far below the engineers and computer programmers who kept the city’s automated systems running.
Nevertheless, down here in the Pit, such workers were wealthy compared to most and thus were frequently targeted for robbery by junkies and crooks. A smart criminal might attempt to kidnap a blue collar and force him at gunpoint to download his electronic credits into an untraceable account, but e-crimes such as this were far too sophisticated for most of the small time, dumb-as-shit crooks in the Pit. More likely, a drug-addicted mugger would try to steal whatever a blue collar had on his person, right down to the clothes on his back and the shoes on his feet.
No wonder these four wanted to keep a low profile. But this didn’t stop Tiffany touting for business. The girl shook her voluptuous body and flirted outrageously with the four men, trying hard to get a catch. Clearly, the workers weren’t interested, but Tiffany persevered until eventually one of the men gave the lap dancer a twenty-dollar bill to get rid of her.
Tiffany wandered off, but the four men remained cautious and soon noticed Denton watching them from the bar. Robbing working men wasn’t his thing, so Denton simply raised his glass in a friendly toast to the quartet and left them be.
Suddenly, there was some activity at the bar as the regulars began mumbling excitedly while staring up at the television. Butch used the remote to turn up the volume and soon the entire bar was transfixed, Denton included. A smartly dressed corporate newsreader sat in a studio, reading from a typecast in a monotone voice. A photograph of a grey-haired, overweight, yet, striking and charismatic man appeared on the screen – a man who every customer in the bar recognized at a glance.
“In news from the lower district, we have received confirmed reports that Angelo Lucchese, the self-proclaimed ‘Mayor of The Pit’ and reported leader of the Syndicate crime organization has died at the age of sixty-three. Mr. Lucchese was a notorious leader in the lowers, regarded by many as a generous and altruistic community leader, but accused by others of ordering hundreds of murders over a twenty-year period. Despite his violent reputation, Mr. Lucchese is reported to have died of natural causes at his family home. He is survived by his wife and three daughters…”
The news channel showed some stock footage of the Pit or the ‘Lower District’ as they insisted on calling it, before moving on to the next story. The shock in the bar room was palpable. Several of the regulars swore out loud while Butch stood behind the bar, shaking his head in disbelief. Tiffany walked up beside Denton’s bar stool, a tear in her eye as she exclaimed - “My God! I’ll never forget where I was when I heard the news!”
Denton couldn’t contain his own shock. Don Angelo – the last of the old school mob bosses - was dead! For as long as he could remember, the Don had ruled the Pit using an iron fist in a velvet glove, maintaining discipline amongst the thousands of Syndicate members and associates through brutal measures, but also retaining a ‘Robin Hood’ type image due to the substantial amounts of money he put back into the community. Don Angelo was therefore loved and feared in almost equal measure, but perhaps his greatest legacy, was the relative peace on the streets during his long reign as ‘King of the Pit’, but now the King was dead, and the whole district was in danger of falling into blood anarchy and open gang-warfare.
The Syndicate was a huge, multi-racial criminal organization which operated something like a feudal kingdom. The Boss and his inner circle were at the top of the pyramid, but underneath the Don were twelve largely autonomous families, all run by their own captain or ‘capo’. The trouble was that Don Angelo had died without an apparent heir or – as far as anyone knew – without naming a successor. In theory, any one of the dozen ‘Capos’ could make a play for the top job, in reality though, there were only two main contenders – Rodriguez from the East Side and Adebisi in the South Borough.
These men ran the two most powerful crime families in the Pit and it was well known that they hated each other’s guts. Only the iron rule of Don Angelo had prevented the two captains from going to war, but now the Boss was dead, and all bets were off.
“This shit is bad,” said Butch in a somber tone of voice, “It’s going to be hell out on the streets!”
“Maybe…” Denton replied thoughtfully, “Then again, there might be some opportunities coming out of this mess…”
Denton was already thinking in pragmatic terms. He recalled that he owed substantial amounts of money to both Rodriguez and Adebisi – gambling debts, another of his many vices. Therefore, if one or both men were killed in a gangland feud, Denton would be off the hook. It was a harsh way of looking at things, but it was every man for himself down here, in the Pit. Denton was still considering the possibilities as he finished his drink, wished Butch and Tiffany a good night, and made his way back out onto the streets.
Denton was hungry and, so, it was his intention to grab something to eat from the convenience store around the block - something processed, fried and unhealthy was on the menu. However, he never got the chance to get his meal, because a pair of goons accosted him as soon as he left the bar. The men were both well-built, bald-headed tough guys in ill-fitting designer suits. One was white and the other black. Denton instantly realised these men were with the Syndicate – most likely foot-soldiers serving one of the ‘capos’. But, what did they want with him?
“Are you Denton?” asked the white guy, his voice gruff and hostile.
“Who wants to know?” Denton replied coolly.
“The boss,” answered the second goon, “Don Rodriguez. He wants to talk to you, buddy.”
So, they worked for Rodriguez – that answered one question. “Your boss wants to see me, huh? And what makes you think I want to speak with him?”
“You need to show some respect, motherfucker!” shouted the white thug, his stance becoming increasingly hostile and threatening. “The Don wants to see you, and he ain’t asking!”
Denton instinctively responded to his adversary’s aggression, squaring up to the man and preparing to fight. It was the second of Rodriguez’s men – the black guy – who acted as peacemaker.
“Woah! Listen, buddy, there’s no need for violence. Our boss is around the corner, waiting in the car. All he wants is a friendly conversation. In fact, the Don has a proposition that could well be in your interests. You might as well hear him out…what do you say, my friend?”
Denton slowly backed down, unclenching his fists and following the pair to a parked, dark black limousine unsubtly parked on the street corner. He didn’t have any beef with Rodriguez, but did owe the Syndicate captain a sizeable amount of money. Also, he was intrigued to hear what the proposition may be, especially since Rodriguez was a top contender for the throne now Don Angelo was dead.
They opened the door of the vehicle and showed Denton inside. Rodriguez sat spread out on the back seat of the limo, smoking a large cigar and sipping from a glass of cognac. The mob captain was a large, middle-aged and mustached man of Hispanic descent, a veteran gangster with a reputation for violence, ruthless powerplays and a self-indulgent taste for the finer things in life; be it cars, women or booze. Denton had never liked Rodriguez, not caring for his unpredictable nature and back-stabbing ways. Nevertheless, he had worked for the man in the past…money was money, after all.
Rodriguez grinned amicably as he greeted Denton like an old friend, embracing him and offering a cigar which Denton politely refused.
“Well, buddy, you heard the news?” Rodriguez asked.
“Yeah.” Denton answered, while shaking his head solemnly, “Still can’t believe it. Sad day for the Pit.”
“No doubt, no doubt,” Rodriguez agreed, “you know, Don Angelo was like a father to me…taught me a lot…And the way he went out, did you hear? The mighty Don, the most powerful gangster in the city, and he died on the can taking a shit! Can you believe that?”
Rodriguez appeared positively giddy while telling the tale of Don Angelo’s undignified demise and Denton reckoned the man’s display of grief was simply for show.
“Anyway, we must go on…” the gangster continued, “Need to focus on the future. The Syndicate needs strong leadership right now, otherwise the whole Pit will fall into fucking anarchy….and that is something I won’t allow!” Rodriguez paused briefly, looking Denton square in the eye before asking him a straight question. “Tell me, Denton, of all the captains, who do you reckon is best placed to take over?”
Denton shrugged his shoulders and told the truth. “The way I see things, it’s between you and Adebisi. I guess it depends which one of you strikes first…”
Rodriguez laughed aloud and slapped him hard on the back. “That’s what I like about you, Denton, you’re smart and you tell it like it is. I’ve been waiting a long time for this opportunity, and there’s no way I’m letting that prick Adebisi take it from me! I know what needs to be done, but if I move against Adebisi now, it’ll be mayhem on the streets! I need deniability in this shit…The Pit can be a dangerous place after all…What I need is a man who’s reliable and discreet…A guy who can take out this son of a bitch but do the job right, so it can’t be traced back to me. That’s where you come in, Denton…”
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing…was Rodriguez for real?
“You want me to whack Adebisi!” he exclaimed.
“Sure, why not?” Rodriguez replied, “You did decent work with that hit on JJ last year…”
“JJ was a scumbag, women-beating pimp.” Denton replied, “Adebisi is one of the most powerful men in the Pit. I won’t do it!”
“Won’t!” Rodriguez exclaimed angrily, “You seem to be forgetting the money you owe me…Five Gs, and the interest building every week. I’ve been patient up to now, what with us being old friends and all. But, if you start fucking with me, I’ll have to call in the debt. On the other hand, I’ll cancel it and give you a clean slate, if you take this contract…”
Denton understood Rodriguez all too well. If he refused to take the contract, the gangster would demand money Denton didn’t have and would react with violence when he didn’t get paid. He was being blackmailed and, in the end, had no choice.
“Okay, I’ll do it.” he mumbled.
“Good boy,” Rodriguez exclaimed with a grin while slapping Denton on the back once more. “My people will give you the details.”
Denton suddenly felt quite ill as he wondered what kind of suicide mission he’d signed up too.
✽✽✽
Denton lurked in the shadows, his gun concealed underneath his jacket as he waited for his target to show. Rodriguez’s men had provided him with the intel, explaining that Adebisi met his mistress in a downtown hotel every Wednesday night. Apparently, the mob boss attended this illicit appointment alone and unprotected and, so, this was the ideal opportunity to take him out. Denton still felt uneasy about the whole operation. He would rather have stayed out of all this shit, but Rodriguez had forced his hand.
The assassination mission was high-risk. Denton would wear a mask during the hit to ensure he wasn’t identified. There may be no police in the Pit, but the Syndicate families had their own private investigators who would try to seek out the killer. This was potentially a lose-lose situation for Denton. If he failed to kill Adebisi, then the mobster would surely seek vengeance. However, if he did succeed, there was a chance that Rodriguez would take him out anyway to cover his tracks. God knew how he’d gotten embroiled in this bullshit, but he was committed now and had to see this through.
He watched the front door of the hotel from across the street, waiting for what seemed like an eternity on that cold and damp night. Finally, his target emerged, strolling out through the swing lobby door of the hotel. Adebisi was a tall and slim Nigerian with dark skin, a shaved head and a fiery intensity behind his eyes. Denton slowly moved forward, crossing the street while discreetly reaching into his jacket, feeling the handle of his gun – an ancient Magnum revolver with a six-round chamber - the best weapon he could find at such short notice.
He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the girl. She was tall and statuesque; white skinned, red haired and stunning, wearing a designer dress and high heels. Adebisi’s mistress. Denton assumed they would be leaving separately. This was an unwelcome development, as Denton didn’t wish to kill or maim an innocent. He stood-still in the middle of the road; watching, his mind racing as he considered his next move. A vehicle pulled up to the sidewalk, an electric driverless cab, identical to the hundreds of other automated taxis which operated in the Pit. Adebisi embraced and kissed his mistress, opening the door of the cab so she could climb inside.
Denton realised it was now or never. He withdrew his pistol, flicking off the safety catch as he aimed. Adebisi turned his head at the last possible second, seeing his masked and armed would-be killer advancing upon him. The mob boss cried out before he heroically pushed his girlfriend into the cab. Denton squeezed the trigger, feeling the kickback as his first bullet slammed into Adebisi’s right shoulder.
BANG! A second round shattered the rear window of the vehicle. The woman screamed as she was covered in shards of glass, and the driverless cab burst into action, the red warning lights flashing as its sensors recognized the threat and sped off down the road with the woman still inside.
He fired a third bullet at the fleeing vehicle but stopped shooting when he realised his target wasn’t inside the cab. Instead, Adebisi was left behind; wounded, abandoned and without cover. Denton moved in for the kill, covering the distance while preparing to finish his victim, but Adebisi wasn’t done yet.
To Denton’s immense surprise and horror, the wounded man withdrew a pistol with his left arm and opened fire.
“You, motherfucker!” he screamed.
Bullets whizzed mere inches over Denton’s head, forcing him to flee in a panic. He fired two shots to cover his retreat, both missing his target, before diving into cover and hiding behind a parked car on the opposite side of the street. He fired one more shot, narrowly missing Adebisi. When Denton pulled the trigger again, all he heard was an ominous click.
“Shit!” he swore in dismay.
The gun was empty, and he was surely fucked. Out of options, Denton fled in a blind panic, praying that he wasn’t struck in the back by one of Adebisi’s bullets.
“You better run, motherfucker!” Adebisi screamed after him, “You can run but you can’t hide!”
Denton was soon out of range, but he knew he was far from safe. His mission had been a complete failure, and now the entire world was going to fall on his head.
✽✽✽
Denton spent the next two days getting fucked up. He knew he was in mortal danger and didn’t dare return home or go near any of his regular haunts. Instead, the bumbling hitman hit the bars on the opposite side of the Pit, drowning his sorrows with a dangerous mix of hard liquor, pills and hookers. Denton had to borrow money to afford his bender, that’s how bad things had got. He was even further in debt now, but Denton didn’t think it would matter, since he didn’t expect to live past the end of the week. The Pit wasn’t that big a place, and the Syndicate families had spies everywhere. If Adebisi’s men didn’t get to him, then Rodriguez’s surely would…and so, what was there to do except get messed up?
When Denton came to the end of his two-day session, he woke in a filthy brothel, not bothering to look upon the sleeping girl lying beside him, as he quickly found his clothes, got dressed and quietly left the bedroom. His head was pounding and his throat dry. The man needed coffee and something to eat. He searched his pockets and found he was down to his last couple of dollars. He’d blown the rest. Shaking his head and adjusting his weary eyes to the morning sun, Denton set off down the street in search of a convenience store, but he didn’t get far.
The dark van sped down the empty street, pulling alongside him as the back doors flew open and three masked men jumped out, charging towards Denton with menacing intent. Denton was instantly alert despite his inebriated state. He’d tossed his revolver two days ago and had no other weapons, but was determined not to go down without a fight. He lashed out, striking his first attacker hard in the jaw. The second man grabbed Denton roughly, attempting to wrestle him to the ground, but Denton escaped his grasp, punching his assailant in the stomach. For a moment it appeared he may escape this trap, but then the third attacker quickly drew a weapon and pulled the trigger.
