I Kill Monsters: Fury (Book 1) (37 page)

Dickie sat there looking at the big, muscular
guy in the bed. He considered what he was going to say next before
he said it. “We are, you and I, fortunately, in a position to help
one another.”

Boone looked at him.

“I’m not here because I particularly like
you,” admitted the crime boss. “I’m here out of respect for the man
you knew as Gossitch. Personally, I never understood what he saw in
you. But it’s enough that he did, I suppose. I respect that.
Frank…
Gossitch
was a good judge of character and potential.
But I digress.”

“What happened to Gossitch?” Boone rasped.
“He wasn’t there…”

“The women who found you also found this at
the warehouse.” Dickie held the wooden box in his lap up for Boone
to see. “There was nothing else. A lot of blood, bullet holes in
the walls. Three empty coffins, but that was it.”

“What’s in the…?” Boone nodded to the
box.

Dickie leaned forward again and unclasped the
hinges that held the lid of the wooden box in place. He lifted the
lid and Boone closed his eyes. When he opened them again they were
still there, two human hands, cut off above the wrists, resting on
red velvet. A white gold wedding band adorned the ring finger of
the left hand. Boone knew whose hands they were without asking.

“This is all they found.” Dickie closed the
lid and placed the box under the folding chair he sat on. He sat
back and considered Boone again. “You look super pissed. And that’s
good. See, I have some information you might find enlightening.

“But first this. Your friend, Jay?” Images of
feathers and Moore cigarettes flashed in Boone’s head. “That
woman
he’s been…
with
? She’s a fury, a monster. Your
friend, Jay, has been dating her and fucking her and she’s been
killing my associates. And—your friend, Jay? He’s been helping
her.”

“How…” Boone’s question trailed off.

“You’re surprised, maybe, that I know and
accept her ‘otherworldly’ nature. Kid, this thing I’m a part of, we
survive by keeping a low profile. How many times do people say,
‘There is no Mafia.’ How many times have we ourselves said, ‘There
is no Mafia?’ So, it’s really not difficult for me to believe there
are other things out there, things long denied. Things most people
don’t understand, things they’ve shuttered their intellects against
the very possibility of.”

Dickie folded his hands in his lap and tapped
the index finger of one hand against the knuckles of another.

“Woman or monster, her ultimate nature is no
concern of mine. What does concern me is the fact that, in the last
few weeks, she’s killed a couple dozen people and cost my family
millions of dollars. And killed isn’t strong enough a word for what
she did.”

Boone figured there must have been more
murders while he was recovering. He wanted to know how long he’d
++been out of it but instead asked, “You’re gonna kill her,
then?”

“Well, actually,” Dickie stopped tapping his
index finger, “that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What about Jay?”

“What do you think?” Dickie held up a pager
he took from his red track pants. “Your friend, and his paramour,
fled the country last week. They’re in Europe. We don’t know where,
yet. But when we do, we’ll call you. On this.”

The mobster lay the pager on the bed.

“Now, in return for the favor you will do us,
we’re gonna do one for you.”

“A favor for me, huh?”

“The man you knew as Santa Anna? He set you
up. He set your friends up. It’s because of him that Frank is dead.
He was turned in prison. He’s…” Dickie looked like he was either
going to spit or choke on the words he was trying to say. “His
blood feeds those fucks that killed your friend.”

“He’s a slave?”

“Like all others, by his own choice. When
they flipped him in prison, he could have defied them. He could
have chosen death. Instead, he chose life. But that life he chose
was compromised. And the consequences of his decision had
ramifications for you and your friends.”

“Motherfucker. I’ll kill him.”

“No.” Dickie waved his finger in the air
between them. “You won’t.”

“Fuckin’ why not?”

“What’d I tell you? You been listenin’ to
me?” Dickie looked angry. “Frank was my friend too. Remember that.”
He stretched out his arm and squinted at the Movado on his wrist.
“I gotta get going.”

Dickie stood, leaving the box with Gossitch’s
hands under the chair.

“I’m going away for awhile.” Dickie sounded
resigned. “In the future, you need to contact me? You won’t, but if
you do, it’ll be through one of my associates, yeah?”

Boone could think of no reason he might ever
have for needing to contact the wise guy.

“Yeah, sure.”

“One of my associates will call you when we
have a location on your friend and that
thing
.”

“Hey. Wait… you said Jay left the states last
week? I seen Jay Wednesday night. What time is it?”

“It’s a quarter past four in the afternoon
.”

“What day is it?”

“Sunday.”

“I’ve been out for two days. Shit.”

“No.”

“What do you mean?”

“They tell me you’ve been out for a week.
It’s Sunday September 6th.”

“Fuck.”

Boone was going to ask who had found him, but
when Dickie opened the door to leave the room, Isabella looked into
the room on him. A cat rubbed itself on the doorframe.

“Rest now.” She closed the door, leaving
Boone alone.

He didn’t feel well, but he felt like he was
getting better. He thought of Jay and his girlfriend and thought
that was some bullshit and he couldn’t care less about a bunch of
guineas or their friends getting killed. When he thought about
Santa Anna and Kreshnik and the old vampire fuck, he felt his blood
pressure rise. He was going to get them, every last one of
them.

He had to take his mind off it. For the time
being he was in no condition. Boone looked over at the box on the
floor, the box with Gossitch’s hands. It didn’t help.

When Boone entered the Oasis Smoke Café,
Fakhri and two attendants immediately met him at the door.

“What do you want?” demanded Fakhri.

A cacophony of men and some women smoking and
drinking filled the air around them. The attendants wore Oasis
Smoke Café t-shirts and scimitars on their sides. Boone knew the
curved blades were real but didn’t give a shit.

“Where’s your boss?”

“Leave this place,” ordered Fakhri.
“Now.”

Boone pulled his flannel shirt back to reveal
the butt of the .357 in his waistband.

“You heard what they did to Frank, right?” he
asked the shorter, rotund man. “I want to talk to your boss.”

Fakhri shook his head, a look of disdain on
his face. “Go ahead. He’s in the back.”

Boone let his shirt close over the butt of
the revolver and followed one of the attendants. “Nice hat,” he
growled as he passed Fakhri, causing the man to reach up and touch
his fez.

“This Frank Booth,” Raheem said as Boone was
ushered into a carpeted room. “He is a bad man I think.”

The genie lounged among a pile of pillows in
front of a wide screen television screen that took up much of one
wall. Raheem was dressed in a three piece suit and his hair was
gelled.

“I have seen this film several times…” he
admitted as Boone stepped around the cushions and stood looking
down at him, his back to the screen. “…and I have some questions
about it. For instance, Frank’s personas of daddy and baby, or the
huffing gas? ‘mommy, mommy, baby wants to fuck.’
Why
is this
funny?
Is
this funny? Please explain.”

“You know what they did to Frank, right?”
Boone asked as evenly as he could. “
Our
Frank?”

“I have heard it said,” the genie’s attention
was still on the screen, “that
Blue
Velvet
is a
surreal film, but how do you explain surrealism to a djinn? Like
Dali, I would suppose. I always admired his mustaches. And this
Isabella Rosellini? Beautiful yes, but no Googoosh! Have you, by
any chance, seen
Bita
? A wonderful film—”

“They killed Frank and they cut off his
hands. I saw his hands.”

“This is lamentable.” Raheem, sounded
suitably serious.

“Lamentable?” scoffed Boone. “He was your
friend.”

“I have had many friends,” Raheem had turned
his attention from the television. “And yes, your Gossitch was one
of them. A man must be careful of his friends. What have you come
here for?”

“I want to know where I can find them. The
fucking blood suckers. That old fuck, Rainford.”

“And when you find them?”

“I’m going to kill them,” he promised. “All
of them.”

The genie sighed. “You come into my
establishment and you interrupt my entertainment—”

“
Fuck
your entertainment, camel
jockey.”

“And you insult me and offer no apology for
past transgressions—”

“I should have broke your fuckin’ bottle a
long time ago.”

“—but choose to heap fresh insults upon the
old.” Raheem shook his head as if he were dealing with a difficult
child. “Why is it that you came to me?”

“Because you can get shit done. You can find
people. Things.”

“Yes, and I will help you find those you
seek.” Raheem rubbed his chin between his index finger and thumb
and considered the man standing before him. “But before you thank
me, know that in doing so, I will be sending you to your death. For
there is no way you can survive a confrontation with creatures such
as these. But so be it.”

“Maybe I’m not as easy to kill as you
think.”

“For your sake I hope not. However, I
sincerely doubt it.”

“Just tell me what I need to know.”

Raheem told him the address of a park in
Queens. “Be there tomorrow when the sun goes down. You will come
alone?”

“I might bring a date.”

“I will get a message to the other side, have
them meet you there. I will tell Rainford to come alone.”

“No. Tell him to bring the tall fuck.”

“I assume he will know whom you speak of. I
will get word to his kind, and they will be there.”

“If they’re not,” threatened Boone, “you can
bet your wispy ass I’ll be back here for you.”

The genie’s tone was one of admonishment.
“You come into my place of business and have the temerity to
threaten me?
This
is why Frank would leave you outside all
those times.”

Boone made to leave.

“Let me ask you this Boone.”

He turned to Raheem.

“Have you played
Magic
:
The
Gathering
? It is delightful! Planeswalkers, powerful
magicians, these are who you are when you play. Fakhri, bring me my
cards!”

Boone was already gone.

“So,” Emmanuela asked Boone as she steered
the Lincoln Town Car. “You really don’t know how to drive,
huh?”

“Maybe that’s something you can teach me.
After tonight.”

“I have to be honest with you, Boone. There’s
a very good chance you won’t be alive after tonight.”

“You’re the one wearing the suicide
vest.”

Boone had been there when Emmanuela had
shrugged a vest laden with plastic explosives on over her black
latex cat suit. The vest was filled with silver ball shot and
carpenter’s nails. A rain coat hid the vest now.

“No, Boone, you don’t understand.”

“What are you saying to me?” Boone popped the
cylinder on his Ruger .357 and inspected the shells.

“Listen, it’s just that, I think you should
know. You probably won’t survive this.”

“What? That Albanian fuck?” With a flick of
his wrist he snapped the revolver’s cylinder shut.

“Kreshnik’s not the only one you have
to—”

“Who? The other twelve hundred year old
fuck?”

“Rainford is not twelve hundred years
old.”

“Look, I see where this is going. Just pull
the car over.”

“Why?”

“You want to fuck and just get it out of the
way? I mean, let’s say—on the off chance—that you’re right, and I
don’t
walk away from this—
not
going to happen, but
okay—let’s just pull over and bang so we can say we did it.”

Emmanuela shook her head.

“You know you want to.”

“There’s something about you…I can’t put my
finger on it.”

“There’s something about you,” replied Boone,
“I’d like to put my finger on.”

“You really are a disgusting human being
sometimes, aren’t you?”

“I’m glad somebody noticed.”

The sun was sinking into the night when
Emmanuela popped the trunk of the Town Car.

Boone looked down into the trunk.

“What are we expecting tonight?” he asked
her.

“The unexpected. That’s all you can ever
count on.”

“Right.” He reached into the trunk and
retrieved the machine gun. It was an M-249 light machine gun, its
bipod folded up against the barrel. A hard plastic box magazine was
already in place.

“Two hundred round belt,” explained
Emmanuela. “One tracer round followed by four ball cartridges. Each
round silver tipped.”

Boone whistled. “That must cost a pretty
penny. What you packin’?”

“Just my H&K, and this.” She tapped the
vest under her jacket.

“You figure on settin’ that thing off, give
me a heads up so I can get the fuck out of dodge.”

“If I have to set this off, then things will
be pretty bad.”

Emmanuela buttoned her coat and closed the
trunk. She and Boone crossed the street and started walking to the
entrance of the park.