Chapter 5

God ... Damn ... It! ... I'm not as sadistic as I thought I was. I hate what I did to Jake Carnoli. I don't hate what happened to him. I just hate that I was the one who did it. I still think that he deserved even more than what I did, but I don't feel the same about it as I did before it happened. It appears that I am just not cut out to be a torturer. I hope I get over this feeling, but whether I do or not, I'm not going to stop fighting the Carnoli family!

Well, if nothing else, the Carnoli family's operating expenses have gone through the roof! They are now laying on a lot of extra guards in an effort to keep me out of their way. I'm debating on how to handle this change in the situation. It's obvious that I have them worried, and that was one of my goals. But, I don't want to worry them—I want to put them out of business!

Dan has given me another lead on the protection racket, this time against a local soft drink bottler. Lucky Cola is being hit for $2,500 per week, and that has to hurt in a business that operates on such a relatively low profit margin. Well, I'll start this one out the same as the time I worked on the Argent Department Stores caper. The pickup is scheduled for Friday afternoon at 3:30. I'll just have to tell Bill that I can't make it then to my self defense class, but it is a case of first things first.

I was waiting in my parked car in front of the Lucky Cola main office at 3:00. A courier working for a different company showed up this time at 3:27 and entered the building. Five minutes later, he came out carrying a package and drove off. I followed, and I must say that my technique has improved, probably from all of the practice I have been getting lately. This time, he stopped at an office building in the city center and I had to scramble for a parking place. I slipped my old mask over my head and followed him up to the seventh floor. I took a different elevator, so I missed seeing which office he went into, but I waited around until he came out of office #711. There was no name on the door, and the only lettering said "PRIVATE." The window glass in the door was frosted, so I could not see what was going on inside. Well, this called for guile instead of brute force.

I had several disguises stored in the trunk of my car, so I had no trouble finding what I needed. I headed back up to the seventh floor and ducked into the public rest room. When I came out, I was wearing my fake-face mask with mirrored sun glasses hiding my eyes. In my hand, I had a white cane with a red tip, the standard cane used by a blind person. I walked up to #711 and walked in. I tapped my cane around like I was trying to find my way. I saw two men standing at opposite walls and keeping a close eye on me. A receptionist was sitting at a desk filing her nails.

She said to me, rather brusquely, "What do you want? Didn't you see the PRIVATE sign on the door?"

"Excuse me, Ma'am. I can't see anything. Isn't this office #611?"

"No, it is #711. Now, will you please leave?" That latter comment was more of an order than a question.

"Certainly, Ma'am. I be gone as soon as I find the door." I tapped the cane around as if I was trying to establish exactly where I was in relation to the door.

"Oh, My God! Joe, please show this boob to the door."

"Yeah, Shirley, I'll be happy to have something to do." Joe came up to me and reached for my arm. As soon as he was close enough, I pressed the release which collapsed my cane into a fighting stick, and I jammed it into his solar plexus. He had no choice but to lean over at the waist, and I rabbit punched him into unconsciousness.

The other man reached inside his coat, presumably for a gun, but I gave him no time to complete the act. He received the same treatment as Joe, and was lying on the floor before he knew what hit him.

Shirley reacted by opening her middle desk drawer and trying to pull out a small automatic, something on the order of a .32 caliber PPK. She was so awkward with it that I knew that she had not practiced with it nearly enough, so I had plenty of time to swat her arm and make her drop the pistol. I had deliberately held back and not hit her hard enough to break her arm. I had other plans for Shirley.

It was right on 5:00 o'clock, so I figured that she had already received the last package of the day and normally would be preparing to go home. Therefore, I had no qualms about locking the door. By now, Shirley was covered by my Glock 21, and she looked like she would do anything to keep me from pulling the trigger. "OK, Shirley, it's time to get serious. You sit very still while I put some ties on our two friends. I would hate for them to wake up an make me shoot you."

Shirley cringed at that statement and gave me no trouble as I immobilized the two unconscious men. "What's your normal procedure when you receive a package? I already have a pretty good idea, so don't try to lie to me."

"I ... uh ... I ring for them to unlock the door, and I take the package through that door."

"OK, that sounds right. Now, what do you do when quitting time comes around?"

"I ring for somebody to unlock the door from the inside, and I tell them that I am ready to leave. They say 'OK, ' and I go home or do some last minute shopping. I lock the door on my way out. Al and Joe go into the back room after I leave, at least, that's what I have been told."

"Fine, you go through the going home routine. I'll be right behind you, so don't try anything cute, or you might catch a bullet." Now, she really looked frightened, but nodded her head in acquiescence.

Shirley rang her bell and got up. She went to the door and got there just as it opened a short distance. She said, "Sir, it's 5:00 o'clock, so I am going home."

Just as she said "home," I pushed hard on her back and she went flying into the room, right over a man who was lying on the floor. I followed right behind Shirley, landing prone on her and rolling to my left as quickly as I could move. This time there were two guards with Uzis, and I shot the first one in the chest before he could fire, but the second one got off a burst of eight shots before my second bullet hit him in the chest. They may have been wearing body armor, but the .45 cut through well enough to kill them both.

As usual, there were three men sitting at a table with piles of money lying about, but there was nothing careless about it. I also could see the expected ledger and an open safe against one wall. All three men jumped up and reached for guns. They, too, were not experienced with the technique, so I had plenty of time to shoot them.

Now I had a room full of dead people. The shots from the Uzi had managed to hit both Shirley and the third guard, the man on the floor, in the head and kill them as he was shooting at me. What was I going to do? There was close to $75,000 on the table and in the safe, and I sure as hell was not going to let the Carnolis have that! This time, I found two large briefcases. They were both empty, so I put the money and ledgers in one and the ammunition drums from the Uzis in the other. That was getting to be a pretty damned heavy load, but I did stuff one of the Uzis, itself, into the briefcase with the ammo drums. This was going to be such a heavy load that I didn't worry about picking up the rest of the pistols, though I did keep Shirley's cute little .32 caliber PPK. I also hid my disguise in the briefcase with the money.

The two guards in the outer office weren't going anywhere, so I stopped long enough to break their knees and scatter a few Paladin cards before I went out the door. I locked it behind me and headed to my car.

Back home, I straightened things up and called Dan Alsop. "Dan, I figured that I should tell you that I paid a visit to the Cs branch office today. They have another problem of a funds shortage, about 75 grand, but I don't know what else to do about it. I'll let you know if anything more turns up."