The World in Reverse (29 page)

“You’re asking me like I know,”
Nestor, the man in the passenger seat answered.  He also was Russian but had lived in the states for nearly a decade.  However, no one could tell with his broken English. Pulling out his binoculars, he got a better view of the men inside the van.  “Looks like fucking hitters to me.  The man in the passenger seat just cocked a big fucking shot gun.”  He put down his binoculars and looked over at his partner. 

“Shit, radio back to Boris, while I call back to the house and see what Boss wants us to do,” the driver said.  Getting on the phone, he dialed on his cell phone quickly, while the other man got on the radio to the third man in their party
, who was parked in a black BMW several houses away. 

***

The help was about to serve the second course of their five-course meal when Anatoly’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket.  In the middle of the elaborate, authentic Russian dinner in his father’s formal dining hall, he expressed his frustration for being interrupted.  “What?” he growled into the receiver. 

The other guests immediately stopped tal
king and looked over at him. 

Marat wasted no time. 
“Boss, there are hitters here.  It looks like they are about to pull down on Agosto. What do you want us to do?  Watch or counter attack?”

Clasping the phone between his ear and shoulder,
Anatoly pushed away from his dinner with his family and his soon-to-be family. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said to his fiancée, sitting beside him giving him an evil eye. “I have to take this.”  He gave a fake smile. 

In return, she gave him a sincere scowl that he ignored.  Kissing the head of his newborn baby girl, cradled in his fiancée’s arms, he disappeared through the tall double doors of the dining hall and went out into the dimly lit hallway. 

But Dmitry, who was sitting at the head of the table, continued his entertaining conversation as if nothing had happened. He genuinely smiled as he explained the difference between Beluga and lower-quality caviar to his guests, while he sent a flirting wink at his wife at the other end of the table.

As soon as Anatoly
exited, on cue, Gabriel stood up from across the table, excusing himself from his girlfriend and followed him. 

“Wh
at’s the matter?” Gabriel asked, checking his cell phone. He had an unrelated message from Miami, telling him that an expected shipment had arrived without problems.  He was glad to be able to report that back to Dmitry after dinner. 

Anatoly’s Russian accent was thick now as his frustration grew. 
“Someone is at the pig’s house to finish him off.  The men want to know what I want to do,” he said, as if the decision was too difficult for him to make alone.

Gabriel frowned and quickly responded. 
“Tell them to stop them.”  He didn’t see what there was to grapple with. 

“Do we really want to?” Anatoly asked. 
He propped his foot up on the back of the wall and wished for a Menthol cigarette.  He would much rather had been playing with his dogs out in the backyard or doing the hit himself instead of being bogged down with traditional wedding preparation.  It only added to his growing annoyance.   

“According to your father, we do,” Gabriel answered.  He hid his downright disdain for the attack on a policeman and his family for fear that it might just push Anatoly to do the wrong thing.  “No one knows your father’s mind like you do. He obviously has plans for the man.  Otherwise, he wouldn’t be helping him in the first place.”

Anatoly rolled his eyes.  As usual, Gabriel had a point.  Putting the phone back to his ear and pushing unmute, he gave his answer.  “Stop them,” he said, looking up into his cousin’s pensive stare.

“Then what, boss?  He doe
sn’t know that we’re even here,” Marat said, nodding at Nestor. 

“Well, I guess that he’ll know after, won’t he?” Anatoly
responded sarcastically.  With a huff, he turned from Gabriel who watched his every move and shook his head. “Fine, bring them here and put them in the guest wing.  We’ll figure out what to do with them once you arrive.  For now just fucking handle it,
da
.  You’re ruining my evening.”

“Yes, boss,”
Marat answered. 

“There, are you happy?”
Anatoly asked Gabriel as he hung up the phone.

“Very.
” Gabriel opened the door for his cousin to enter back into the dining hall.  “You should be happy.  It’s not often that you get to save lives with a phone call.  Most often you’re ending them.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Anatoly asked completely missing Gabriel’s point.  Agosto was a cop and not just any cop
- the biggest thorn in his side on the Memphis Police Department. 

“Nothing,” Gabriel chuckled.  “My point is that you’re doing the right thing for once.”
  He patted him on the back. 

“Glad to know that I have your approval,” Anatoly said, sucking his teeth.

***

The night’s air was still and silent on the quiet street of Peabody. Luxury homes were illuminated with landscape lighting, protected by complex security systems, high gates and fences and prowling, vicious dogs.  The ornate streetlights lit up the rows of foreign cars parked up and down the sidewalk behind the many rows of oak and magnolia trees.  In all, it was a picturesque view of a upper-middle income southern community ill prepared for what was about to happen. 

Sammy and his men were packed in their van like sardines, ready to unleash hell on the Agosto family right in the comfort of their plantation-style home. His orders while grotesquely savage were simple.  Kill the entire family.  Sammy found it even more disgusting that Cane knew that Ivy Agosto was pregnant and still chose to hit her.  They had all listened to the conversations between her and her husband, heard the audio of them making love and fighting, cringed at the wild children running about and playing, snickered at the remarks.  In essence, they had gotten to know this family, just to kill them better.

“Boss, I can kill the cop.  No problem, but I don’t know how I feel about popping four kids,” one of the men in the back said, cocking his gun.

“There are six of them.  There are six of us.  I don’t care how we do it.  Just do it,” Sammy ordered. “Or the next family to be killed could be your own.”

The men stiffened at the threat. 

“I’ll do it,” one of the other men in the back said, wiping his running nose.  “The way I see it, a kid is just an adult in training.”  His green eyes were ice cold. 

Sammy tried not to cut his eyes at the man.  After all, only a true sociopath should get into their line of work.  “Sounds like we have a fucking volunteer then.”  Looking at his watch, he swallowed down his disdain and thought of his own two children.  When it came down to it was either Agosto’s family or his own.  “Are we clear on what we’re doing?  I don’t want any fuck ups.  If this doesn’t go down, you might as well just put a bullet in your own head.”

The men answered in unison.

Still, Sammy went over the details again.  He’d rather be safe than sorry. “The back of the house is fortified by the fence, the lights and the damn dog.  So, we go through the front door.  It’s going to be risky, but even if he has a weapon, he won’t be able to get to us all.  Three go upstairs, three down.  Check every room, kill everyone on sight.  I don't care if it takes five bullets a piece to put these people down, Cane wants one bullet in the back of each head.  Once the job is done, drop the cocktails, burn the bitch down and get out.  We have exactly ten minutes to do it all.”  He turned and looked at the men.  “Are we clear?”

The men nodded again.

Turning back around, Sammy opened his passenger door.  The other men quickly fo
llowed.  With black ski masks on and guns pointed, they came up the drive quickly, moving across the lawn in a two-by-two flank formation.  As soon as they got to mid-point on the plush lawn, the security lights came on.  Without pause, they continued advancing towards the house, anticipating every possible move that Agosto could make. 

Marat got out of the Land Rover undetected by the crew right down the street and made his way to the back of the truck.  While Cane’s men were armed with sawed off shotguns, a new order of AA-12 fully automatic shot guns had just arrived and Dmitry had stocked each car with several for his “runs” around the region.  Spitting out 300 round per minute with a range of up to 575 feet, he was certain that when he did fire his stainless steel new-age tommy gun, everyone on the street would know it.  Grabbing one for himself with a full mag
azine and one for Nestor, he closed the trunk quietly. 

Nestor threw his cigarette out of the passe
nger window and scooted across to the driver’s seat.  Letting down the window, he pulled the large weapon inside from Marat and laid it across his lap. 

Quickly Marat, put his black boot on the foot rail of the truck, slung the strap of the gun over his wide shoulder and slipped his tattooed hand inside the handrail to ride the side of the truck up to the front of the house.   

***

Nicola had a bad feeling after the call from Moss.  It wouldn’t be likely that Johnson and Steele had found out anymore than he already knew in such a short time.  Whoever was cleaning house, wouldn’t just stop at them.  He gathered the most important things, social security cards, birth certificates, credit cards, identification, etc. and threw them in a bag. Slipping on his gym shoes, he screamed out of the bedroom door to Ivy.

“Baby, just get some clothes on them,” he said, hair suddenly standing on his arms.

“Don’t I need to get them some clothes and toothbrushes,” Ivy screamed back from the oldest twins’ room.”

“No,” Nicola said, looking at his watch. “We’re leaving this house in five minutes.  We can buy what we need.” 

Urgency boiled in his veins with each and every passing minute.

Hearing the strain in his voice, Ivy hurried.  Wiping the sweat from her brow, she pushed back tears and fear to focus.  Bending down to put on Adamo’s shoes, she realized that he didn’t have on socks. 

“Where are we going?” he asked, sensing her worry.

Running a hand through his curly hair, she tried to smile. “We’re going to see grandma and grandpa.  You love it there.  Don’t you?”

“But it’s late,” he said, wiping his tired eyes.  I want to go to sleep, mama.”  He looked up at her with a pouty mouth that made her feel guilty. 

Ivy finished tying his shoes and stood up.  Feeling dizzy, she braced herself on the nightstand.  “You can sleep in the car, baby.  I promise.”

Turning around, she saw Nicola at the door with the two smallest boys in his arms.  “Let’s go,” he said more of an urging than an order. 

With protest, she grabbed her boys by the hands and hurried out of the room.  They walked quickly down the long hall.  More silent than they’d ever been both she and Nicola contemplated what their next move would be. 

“I need my purse,” she said as they passed the master bedroom.  She looked into the invi
ting warmth of the tranquil room and suddenly felt like she’d never see it again. 

“I’ll grab it,” Nicola said, walking into the room with the kids. “Where is it?”  He looked around quickly. 

“On the doorknob of the bathroom.” 

Walking to the bathroom door, he grabbed the purse and headed back out.  “Got it.  Let’s go.”  This time his voice was more of an order. 

As soon as they headed down the long stairwell together with Ivy and the boys leading, a large boom came from downstairs startling everyone.  The wooden front door flew off the hinges and two men came quickly inside with shotguns.  Both sets of twins and Ivy screamed, falling back onto the stairs. 

Quickly Nicola snatched them up the stairs. Pulling behind them to shield them, he heard guns shots ring out right by their head.  Blo
wing a hole into the wall beside his head and knocking down a large painting, he threw everyone on the floor. 

Covering their heads, he pushed them back up into the hallway.  Grabbing Ivy’s face as she screamed frantically, he looked her in the eyes.  “Get them to the back bedroom!” Pulling a gun from the back of his jeans, he gave it to her.  “Get in the corner of the room and turn the lights off.  Shoot anyone who comes through the door.”

“Nicky!” she screamed.  Shaking, she took the gun.

“Go!” he said, pulling the other gun from under his arm.  “Go now!” he pushed her. 

As soon as he saw Ivy and the children crawling out of the path of the mad gunfire, he dove over into the doorway of the master bedroom where he could get a clear view of the stairwell.  He counted at least four. 

Returning fire with his large Desert Eagle, he pointed at the man coming up the stairs and pulled the trigger.  The bullet went straight through his head and exited out the back.  Blood splattered against the wall and stairs and the man fell backwards down the stairs.  But another was right behind him, shooting directly at Nicola.

Shards of wood and drywall exploded as the man unloaded towards Nicola, trying with all his might to kill him quickly.  Diving back behind the doorway out of the path of the bullets, Nicola looked down the hallway at Ivy and the kids as they went into the back bedroom and closed the door.