For Nothing (34 page)

One of the mobsters walked over Falzone who lay on his back next to Aldo’s stil lit cigarette, smoke drifting upward from the floor. He spit on the man where he lay.

“You traitor fuck.”

He pul ed out a long curved knife and knelt next to Falzone. He lifted the blade and slid it into next to Falzone. He lifted the blade and slid it into Joey Falzone’s chest, sending a spray of blood across his knuckles. A dozen times he sent the thirsty blade forth and plunged it into the thousand dol ar suit. A dozen times he cursed Falzone as a traitor. When Falzone’s feet stopped their twitching, the mobster stood up.

“Come on Jimmy; let’s get the fuck out of here.” Coughlin spit again on the broken body.

“Sure thing, Tom. Sure thing.”

The Pope watched as several pops sounded in the vacant home a little more than a hundred feet away. They were muffled and Nuncio rol ed the ignition on the car several times causing it to screech in protest. They waited in silence, as time seemed to stand stil and drag on indefinite.

After a few heartbeats Don Ciancetta, who was stil rubbing his hands together, asked, “You think we should jet?”

“In a minute. We gotta make sure of who leaves that building. You ready just in case, Nuncio?” Nuncio flashed his black steel revolver with a wooden handle in reply.

“Good.”

A few moments later, and two silhouettes eased the door open and shuffled their way towards the empty car waiting outside the foreclosed lot. As they made their way along the frozen path and back to the vehicle, Nuncio inched the sedan forward, one hand on the wheel, the other pointing his revolver at the door facing the silhouettes. They closed the gap in a hurry and as they approached the two mobsters, The Pope rol ed down his window and looked at the men to discern their identities. A smile crept across his face as the car drifted by Tommy Coughlin and Jimmy Jacks.

“Alright, let’s go.” He rol ed up the window and looked over at Don Ciancetta. “War’s over.” The Don let out a relieved laugh that seemed to drop a dozen years off of his frame. He leaned over and put a hand on his consigliore’s face and pul ed him in for a hug.

“I can’t thank you enough.” He pul ed his face back and looked at his friend eye to eye. “What you do for me, every day, I can’t thank you enough.” The Pope smiled back. “What are friends for?”

Don Ciancetta flashed another smile. Then his eyebrows crinkled up as a thought struck him.

“What about the guns, the car, the evidence?”

“In thirty minutes al of that wil be compacted down at the yard. Jimmy and Tommy are pros, don’t worry about it. Al that the cops wil have are the bodies of a few gangsters, and no one to point the finger at.” The Pope held his hands apart, making himself look clueless.

“Something tel s me they’l stil point the finger.”

“Welcome to America. God bless the judicial system that requires a little thing cal ed evidence, my friend.”

The Don leaned back in the leather seat and pul ed out a cigar, slicing off the tip. He crunched the tobacco leaves between his teeth. The consigliore pul ed out a Zippo and lit it for the Don as he pul ed the smoke through the packed tobacco and puffed it out in a perfect circle. “Welcome to America.” The Pope smel ed the sweetness of the cigar wafting through the sedan. It smel ed delicious. It smel ed of victory. Then, unannounced and unasked for, a coughing fit took him. The burn in his chest ate away his smile and drove the tears back into his eyes, with a cheese grater.

The Don studied him for a second and then waved his cigar at his friend. “You ought to get that checked out.”

*

The windshield wipers crashed left and right, throwing smal mountains of snow from the front of the police cruiser. The sound they made as they snapped one way and then the other was the only sound other than the slight crunch as the tires moved through the snow and the hum of the engine as it propel ed the cruiser behind the armored ETF

vehicle. The sirens turned off, along with the emergency lights. The spiraling snow fel down as if shoveled from the tops of the clouds by strong armed angels. They were forced to keep the headlights on as they made their way through a smal dirt road that lead to the address listed on the piece of paper Alex carried from The Pope. They reflected now, off of the plummeting heaps of frozen precipitation.

To Vaughn, the reflections looked like a myriad of twirling eyes gazing back at him and judging his very existence. He wanted to put a bul et into Rafael’s face for what he did. It would be justice after al , wouldn’t it? He knew that the man who kil ed Jack was this monster, this assassin. The oldest laws on record al owed—no demanded—an eye for an eye.

an eye.

He could do it, too. He knew he could, and he wouldn’t even feel bad about it. He could watch the life drain from this son of a bitch and it wouldn’t even give him so much as a bad dream. No sleep would be lost.

Alex looked over at Marshal Johnson. The young man was tapping his finger on the ledge of the window and his knee shook as the adrenaline struggled to manifest in a body constrained to sitting.

Vaughn pushed his hair behind his ear and glanced down at the badge hanging from the Marshal’s hip.

His badge seemed brighter than the one that Vaughn placed on his Chief’s desk just a few hours earlier.

He remembered how eager he’d been when he first joined the force. He believed so much in the ideal back then. Other cops, they had something to prove, or had nothing better to do. Vaughn, though, believed in the concept behind the badge. To him,

“To Protect and Serve” wasn’t a motto. It was a way of life. The Marshal glanced over and caught Alex’s stare on the badge.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking, yours looks a little shinier than mine.”

The Marshal looked down at the star and smiled.

“The thing about a badge is it’s only shiny so long you keep it polished.” He raised his eyebrows as if it proved his point and then looked back out the window.

Alex took the cue, and looked out his own window as the car bounced along the uneven road and threatened to throw their foreheads into the roof.

He watched the woods as they grew thicker around the dirt road and seemed to close in on the smal caravan from al sides.

Branches were scraping at the windows like hands reaching out to them, wanting to pul them into the forest forever. The night sky blocked out al but the nearest trees and Vaughn could see his ghostly reflection in the glass. He looked like shit. His eye was swol en and the various bruises on his face shone with a yel owish tint. The cut along his forehead and under his eyes looked like they scabbed over something infected and were white along the edges. His eyes looked vacant and hol ow.

Alex barely recognized them.

It was as if someone who looked like him was staring back, only Alex could tel he was an imposter.

The detective let his eyes trail out into the forest.

Alex tried to look past this other view of himself.

They found a clearing about a hundred yards from the house, Alex was told, though they couldn’t see it through the dark and the cloistered evergreens. The moment they exited the cruiser, the wind seemed to pick up a bit and Vaughn could feel the cold whip in through the top of his jacket and work its way down along his back. The men in the armored ETF vehicle jumped out and one group of two took off towards the left and another duo of men ran right, their destinations known before they arrived.

They had flashlights affixed to their semi-automatic weapons. The beams of light cut several feet into the night before the snow extinguished it. A fifth officer carrying a large rifle, with a scope on it about the size of a soda can, took off down the center. He had some sort of contraption on his face that looked like binoculars, and Vaughn realized they must be night vision goggles. He carried some sort of sharp metal objects in his hands and Alex watched him as he disappeared into the darkness.

Corporal Renaud hopped out of the ETF

wagon and took long strides over to Alex. “He is going to climb higher for a better view.” Vaughn nodded. “So how are we going to proceed?”

Renaud waved a hand to the left. “I have four men taking up positions, one on each corner of the house. Constable Demarais is going to be up above watching us like an eagle.” The Corporal pointed upwards and in the direction of the man with the night vision. “As for you and me, we wil go together, through the front door. There, you wil make the identification.”

The Marshal gave a little cough and set his feet. “What about me Corporal, what would you like me to do?”

Renaud gave the Marshal a toothy grin and patted the air with his hands.

“You stay here and watch the vehicles, Marshal, along with the Constable. This is a Canadian issue until we get the suspect in custody.” Marshal Johnson stood stil for a second casting a stare at the Corporal, then shuffled his feet and took a step back, “Of course, Corporal.”

“Very good then.” He handed Vaughn a smal ear piece and said, “Put this in, it is linked to our man with a visual of the interior. Detective, would you like to take a moment, and then join me. We wil draw this to a satisfactory conclusion.” Captain Renaud turned around and unclipped the safety on his side arm and again began to talk in hushed tones on his shoulder mounted radio.

Alex Vaughn inserted the ear piece and stole a glance at the crestfal en Marshal and clasped his shoulder as if to say, “I’m sorry.”

The Marshal just mumbled, “Damned Canadian sovereignty.”

Alex Vaughn walked off past the Marshal and towards Corporal Renaud. He too, decided it would be best if he were to approach the situation with the safety off of his gun. He felt it click with a push of his thumb. He felt the click reverberate through his body.

Game on
.

Corporal Renaud and Alex Vaughn walked side by side through the snow in the direction of the cabin. The evergreens continued to grope towards Alex with their wooden fingers and the sound of their boots packing the snow beneath their feet greeted his ears each step of the way. Vaughn felt like they would be uncovered at any moment. To Alex’s surprise, Corporal Renaud began speaking to him, though Vaughn thought it best that they remain as stealthy as possible.

“This man, Detective, he is very dangerous, no?”

“Yes.”

“What makes a man more dangerous than others?”

Alex looked over at the Corporal, who was staring into the gloom. “Excuse me?”

“Take us for instance. Are we not dangerous, too?” He patted his sidearm as if to emphasis the point.

“I suppose we are.”
What the fuck is his
point?

“Ah, but we have rules, you and me. Do you think that makes us more dangerous or less so?” Vaughn thought about the question for a moment as the crunching of their feet ate into the silence. “Maybe less dangerous tonight, but more dangerous tomorrow.”

dangerous tomorrow.”

Renaud stopped walking, prompting Alex to stop too. Vaughn looked into the darkness and saw the shadowy shape of the cabin less than thirty yards away, nestled between two large masses of trees.

Light poured forth from the windows and faded back into darkness, less than fifteen yards from where the two of them stood. But Renaud wasn’t looking at the cabin. Alex felt him watching him and turned to regard the Corporal.

Renaud nodded his head. “There you have it then.”

“There you have it.”

The two of them continued walking towards the cabin. A single flash of light came from their left and then another from their right.

“They are in position,” Renaud said as they continued their march.

It didn’t take them long until they were just a few strides from the wooden structure, the trees opening up around it in a ring. It looked as if it were made of log, with rounded beams stacked up until it reached a metal ic roof, made possibly of tin. It wasn’t large and boasted a single chimney that released thin grey smoke into the black sky. At least a foot of snow settled on the roof, and didn’t seem to have a mind to move at al . Two steps led up to the door and that was where Renaud and Alex paused.

Renaud placed his hand on the door, and he tried the handle. It rol ed over, and Vaughn could tel it was not locked.

The ear piece came alive with a voice that informed them, “There is one suspect inside. His back is to the main doorway, he is about ten paces from the door.”

Renaud held up his other hand, his gun now resting in his grip and mouthed, “On three.” Alex nodded.

“One…”

He felt his adrenaline spring through his heart and into his throat.

“Two…”

Alex Vaughn pul ed out his Beretta.

Snowflakes nestled on his shoulder.

“Three.”

Corporal Renaud flung the door open and entered the cabin, his gun raised in front of him and cupped in one hand as he moved in and to the left of the frame. Alex Vaughn fol owed, his gun cradled in both hands and hanging at the side of his hip.

The first thing he saw was a man with his back to him. He hadn’t the time to remove his jacket, and wore one in black leather. He wasn’t very large and he had dark hair with a bit of grey coming around the base of his crown. He was standing at a counter and looking out of a window that peered into the woods behind the cabin.