Cut&Deal [02]

“Cut&Deal” [02]

Claire sighed as she dropped her gun on the floor next to the couch she plopped herself down on.

“Two down, three more to go..” she mumbled as she cracked her neck twice and leaned back against the stained and frayed sofa and closed her eyes.

Claire’s father, Charlie Cash Catalano, collected many estates and factories throughout Gotham and the surrounding cities as the head of the Great Catalano crime family, but this hideout was his one secret he intended to take to his grave. The fact that he shared this secret with Claire alone should have been a clear enough sign that even he knew his time was coming.

A knock interrupted her rest and she groaned.

“Yeah?”

It was Tommy, one of her men. She rarely let anyone in on her plans until it was time to execute them, or even come in this room, but Tommy was smart. He was tough, streetwise and didn’t take crap from anyone; he only respected Claire, and was the only one truly loyal to her. He also did all her recruiting. She had no idea where or how he collected them, but he was never short of connections. But neither was Claire. So she shared all her plans and ideas with him and even gave him special jobs here and there.

Plus, she liked having someone to talk to, other than herself.

“Can we chat?” he asked, his voice sounding much younger than he was.

She sighed again and reluctantly pulled herself up off the couch and opened the door, locking it behind him. Then she turned to face him. Tommy was shorter than the average male, but he was built. His long brown hair looked a bit greasier than normal and his dirty face looked especially worn.
“What are you afraid of?” Claire asked him, eyeing the couch. She wanted to crash desperately but knew better.
“Nothin” he grunted, “I’ve just been thinkin’” he replied.
“Don’t. I’ll take care of that, remember?” she yawned.
He looked at her, irritated, “We can’t work another insider again. It’s too risky.” He got straight to the point.
Another quality Claire appreciated about him.
She snorted, “You know, maybe you should run this show. You seem to know it all anyway.” She responded, surrendering to her desire to nap; plopped back down on the sofa.
Tommy began pacing. She hated when people paced.
“Maybe I should. You think you got another plan?” he glared, “A new approach?”
She tensed, “I’d watch yourself if I were you.” Her face like stone.
His eyes flashed with fear, but only for a moment. He paused; continued pacing.
“Do you?” he recovered, pacing.
She just glared at him silently.
“You gonna let me in or what?” he persisted, still pacing.
That was the last nerve for Claire. She leaped up, pulled her glock out and pinned him against the wall before he could even blink.
“Why should I?” she whispered darkly, “I could pull the trigger and send you to hell without losing a bit of sleep.”
“But you won’t.” Tommy choked, clearly angry at himself, but more angry at her.
“And why is that?” she chuckled, “because I need you? Because you bring in the volunteers? Because you know people?” she pushed her arm harder into his throat, “hmm?”
He coughed and gagged. He pulled at her arm and she relaxed just a bit, only to hear what he had for an answer.

“Exactly.” Was all he said. Not one hint of fear in his eyes.
She stared at him for a moment longer, then released him and replaced her glock back in its holster. She sat back down on the couch and laughed.
Tommy rubbed his throat and neck.
“Not everyone goes down the same way. And I’ve never been one to limit myself to plans, especially repetitive ones. I pride myself in offering a bit of variety.” She began, crossing her legs, “I’ve got loads of ideas and nearly infinite resources.” She nodded.
He crossed his arms and stood in front of her.

At least he stopped pacing.

“And thanks to my family’s special ‘recipes’, I can make sure things go as smoothly as possible” she grinned, pulling back her tattered lips to reveal her perfect teeth.
Tommy smirked, “That’s what I needed to hear.”
Claire closed her lips and returned to a firm expression. She reached for her shotgun and nodded toward Tommy. He pulled a small pouch from a duffel bag on the table across from her and handed it to her. She opened the pouch and pulled out two shining bullets.
“Unfortunately for me this operation requires a few more hands.” She loaded the gun with a click, “and unfortunately for you, I came across some information about you and your..past.” she looked up at him.

His grin slowly faded into a frown.
“What kind of information?” he asked, barely audible.
She rose from the couch, casually holding the gun at her side, “I think you know exactly what information I’m referring to.” She answered grimly.
He backed away until his back, once again, met the wall.

“That was years ago.” He defended himself, his voice shaking.
“SHUTUP!” she roared and pulled the gun up and pointed at his head.
Tommy winced, his face distorted, sweat droplets forming on his forehead, “Please don’t.” he begged.
She slowly moved forward.
“Fortunately for me, I’ve already secured your replacements” she said.
She bore into his eyes with hers, rage building inside her,
“Do me one last favor and give this message to your father”

Tommy’s eyes widened.

“Long Live the Catalanos.”

A pull of the trigger sent Tommy’s head bouncing off the wall and his body falling forward onto the floor, a pool of blood forming around him.
Oddly enough, Claire ‘Massacre’ Catalano didn’t find anything humorous about it. She just stared for a moment, put the gun on the table and plopped back down onto the couch.

Finally..

It was a quiet night. A dark, eerie night. In the parking garage two large black SUVs pulled in and parked at the far end of the nearly empty parking area, save for a dark purple conversion van parked across from them. After a few minutes the side doors to the van open and a tall brawny man steps out, steps to the side and crosses his arms as an older man with a black ponytail emerges holding a cane.

“That’s the guy.” Professional thug Barry Vorce says.
At the signal, the four men exit the SUV and fix their suits.
“Evening, Gents” greets the older man.
The men meet in the middle, spread out.
Just then the other SUV’s doors open and two more men appear. One is Angry Nelson, the son of Drake LeFay, the head of the LeFay crime family. The other is his bodyguard. A short mean looking man with a bulldog face.
“This stuff better be worth it” Angry Nelson growled, “I don’t normally participate in the transactions. But I wanted to make sure everything went smoothly.”
The older man with the cane smiled,
“Of course, there will be no trouble here.” He waved to the man with him, who opened the back doors to the van, “I offer only the best.”
Angry Nelson smirked when he saw the man disappear into the back of the van and return with a large plastic bag full of white powder. The large man handed it to the older man, who smiled again.
“Fresh from Pennsylvania.”
Angry Nelson’s bodyguard reached for the bag, but the man pulled away.
“Ah-ah-ah!” he teased, then looked at Angry Nelson, “The money first.”
One of the men behind Angry Nelson stifled a giggle.

“Make it quick, Lou.” Claire whispered harshly into her walkie-talkie. She lowered her binoculars and checked her watch. Watching from across the street, Claire and her new man, Everette, sat patiently in a small old car, overseeing the ‘business meeting’.
“What’s up? He bein’ a knucklehead again?” Everette chuckled.
Claire turned and glared at him, “They got a new recruit. I’ve seen him before.”
He stared back at her blankly.
“Get us out of here,” she ordered through clenched teeth. Everette swallowed and started the car.
Claire raised her walkie-talkie again, “Give them the crap and get out of there, Lou. We’ve got a problem.” She threw the walkie-talkie behind her and loaded her hand guns.
“What’s got you spooked?” Everette asked, “so what the guy’s from another gang, theys all gonna get blown away anyways.”

She clicked her guns into place and made eye contact with Everette.

“He’s back.”