Pinky Finger
1460 Words
Aldric's men move through the building. Twelve of them.They spread out through the hallways, guns raised.
Their target is on the last floor. Joe, Lady Benita's son. Aldric tracked him here, to this forgotten part of the city. Now they are close.
Aldric leads the way. His black eyes scan every corner. He signals with his hand. Two fingers forward. Then a closed fist. Stop.
His men freeze. They hold their breath.
Aldric reaches the top of the stairs. He peers around the corner. The last floor is wide open. Old machines sit everywhere. Broken pallets are stacked against the walls. In the center, tied to a steel pillar, sits Joe.
His head hangs down. His dark hair covers his face. His wrists are bound behind his back with thick rope. He looks tired. Beaten. But he is alive.
Around him, ten men stand guard.
Aldric's jaw tightens. Ten. He thought there would be fewer. But it does not matter. They have surprise and they have skill. They have the will to win.
He raises his hand to give the signal.
Then the door on the other side of the warehouse crashes open.
---
Leo's men pour inside. There are twelve of them. They move like shadows.Their guns are already raised. They wear no uniforms. No markings. But the way they move gives them away. They are killers. Professionals.
Aldric's men turn. Their weapons swing toward the new threat. For one long second, both sides face each other. Fifty feet of concrete and dust between them. Everyone waits for someone else to move.
Then someone fires.
The shot booms through the warehouse. It echoes off the metal walls. No one knows who fired first. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe it was on purpose. It does not matter now.
The warehouse explodes into noise and fire.
Guns rip through the air. Bullets tear into the machines. Sparks fly into the shadows. Men shout. Someone screams. Then the scream stops.
Aldric dives behind a stack of pallets. His heart pounds. His gun is up. He fires twice. One of Leo's men drops. But another takes his place. They keep coming.
The fight is brutal. Both sides have twelve men. Both sides are good. The air fills with smoke and the sharp smell of gunpowder. Blood pools on the concrete floor.
Aldric's men fight hard. They are disciplined. But Leo's men are different. They do not shout and panic. They just move forward. Firing. Reloading. Firing again.
One of Aldric's men falls with a bullet in his chest. Another drops, clutching his throat. A third goes down with a wound in his leg.
Aldric fires again. Another of Leo's men falls. He is buying time. He is fighting to survive. But even as he reloads, he knows the truth. They are losing.
---
Then the main door swings open.
Leo steps through. His hair is swept back. His face shows no feeling. In his hand, he holds a gun
He does not rush. He does not yell. He walks into the warehouse. His footsteps echo on the floor. He raises his gun.
He fires once. A man falls.
He fires again. Another drops.
He keeps walking. His arm stays steady. His aim is perfect. He fires again and again. Each shot finds its mark. Aldric's men fall around him. Their bodies hit the floor with heavy thuds.
It takes less than a minute.
When the shooting stops, the warehouse is quiet. The only sounds are the groans of the wounded. Twelve men lie dead. All of them Aldric's. Leo's men stand among the bodies. Their guns are still raised. Their faces show nothing.
Leo lowers his pistol. He looks around the room. His eyes are cold. He points to two of his men.
"Break them," he says. "The five still alive. Break their arms. Break their legs. Leave them breathing but useless."
His men move and Aldric men scream. The sound is awful.
Leo ignores it. He walks through the mess. His shoes crunch on broken glass and shell casings. He reaches the center of the room.
Joe is still tied to the pillar. His head is up now. His eyes are wide with fear. He watched everything. The fight. The killing. The breaking of the others. He is shaking. His breath comes in short gasps.
Leo stops in front of him. He looks down at the young man.
"Joe," he says. "You look like your mother."
Joe tries to speak but comes out. His throat is dry, guslips are cracked. He has been here for hours. No food. No water.
Leo reaches up and unties the ropes. Joe's arms fall to his sides. He slumps forward. He is too weak to hold himself up. Leo lets him drop.
Joe hits the concrete floor with a dull sound. He tries to push himself up. His arms will not obey. He lies there, shaking.
Leo kneels beside him.
"Your mother had something for me," Leo says. His voice is soft. Friendly, almost. "Evidence. She knows what I mean. You were supposed to bring it. But you were late. And now she is late too."
Joe shakes his head. He tries to deny it. T
"I don't know what you're talking about," he chokes out. "I don't know anything."
Leo smirk Every plea for mercy.
"Of course you don't," he says. "That makes this even more disappointing."
He pulls a roll of duct tape from his pocket. He wraps it around Joe's head. Over his mouth. Over his eyes. Over his ears. Then he wraps his arms. His legs. His whole body. Layer after layer. Joe cannot move. Cannot see. Cannot speak.
Then Leo pulls out a knife.
The blade catches the dim light. Leo holds it up. He studies it for a moment.
"Your mother was supposed to bring me something today," he says. "Something I need. Something she has kept hidden for six years. In return, she would get you back. Safe. Unharmed."
He pauses.
"But she is late. I do not like waiting, Joe. I do not like broken promises. And I do not like games."
He takes Joe's left hand. The young man tries to pull away. Leo holds him tight. He spreads Joe's fingers. One by one. Until the pinky is exposed.
"You will tell your mother," Leo says, "that this is for being late. You will tell her that next time, I will take more."
He presses the blade down and cuts.
Joe screams behind the tape. His body twists. His hand jerks. Blood flows freely. Leo holds up the severed finger. He looks at it for a second. Then he drops it into a small glass jar.
He seals the jar. He places it next to Joe's bound body.
"Now," Leo says, standing up. "You will tell your mother that the clock is ticking, if she wants to see you again, she will bring me what I asked for."
He turns to the five injured men. They are still on the floor. Broken. Bleeding. Useless.
"Pick him up," he orders. "Take him to your leader. Tell him Black Boss sends a message, next time, I will not leave anyone alive."
The five men struggle to their feet. Their limbs scream with pain. They limp toward Joe. They lift him as gently as they can.
They carry him out through the loading bay. They leave a trail of blood behind.
---
Leo watches them go. He stands in the middle of the warehouse. Dead men surround him. Blood stains the floor. He watches until they are gone.
Then he turns to his men.
"Clean this up," he says. "Leave nothing behind."
His men nod. They start to work. Dragging bodies. Collecting shells. Wiping down every surface.
Leo walks to a metal chair near the far wall. He sits down. He crosses one leg over the other. He gestures to one of his men.
"Ten,Bring me my laptop."
The man disappears and returns with a black laptop. He puts it on a crate in front of Leo. Then he steps back.
Leo opens the laptop. The screen glows blue. He types something and photos appear. He scrolls through them. Pictures of buildings. Papers. Men he has dealt with. Men he will deal with soon.
Then he stops.
A photo fills the screen. A woman. She stands in a garden.
Diava.
Leo's face changes. The cold mask slips. His lips turn up. Just a little. His eyes soften.
He reaches out and touches the screen. His fingers trace the outline of her face.
"Almost there," he whispers. "Just a little longer."
He leans back in his chair. He keeps staring at the photo. The small smile stays on his face.
- Writer
