Page 22 of Sinister Savior

“Good.” I gave him my access codes and account numbers. It’s money I haven’t touched in a decade, all dirty, all able to be traced to various crimes. I can think of no better way to use it than to employ it in this mission to take my brother out. Sort of a poetic gesture, if you ask me.

“And our men are on standby. The ammunition shipment will be in tomorrow, and after that we’ll have no problem moving whenever you’re ready.” Ervine turns into the parking lot of the old fishery. It’s the last of its kind on the docks that only went out of business a few months ago following the pandemic. They couldn’t keep workers in the place. I suspect the building will sit empty for some time, giving us a convenient place to do business.

I scowl at my own crass thoughts, that I’ll be doing this for some time to come. I don’t want to be doing this for a time to come. I want to fix this issue for Alice and get her to safety once and for all, not fall back into my old ways and become my brother or my father.

“How many do we have now?” This web of darkness is sucking me in, pulling me deep into the rapids and breakers I used to walk on. It’s funny how all it takes is one waif needing to be rescued to make me forget how I used to loathe my former self.

But the Mario who played priest for years isn’t the one who can rescue her. The beast is, the man inside me whose soul is blacker than night, more pungent than the rot of decay around him.

“Fifty-seven and counting, but you can probably bet on a dozen more switching sides mid-fight when they realize what’s happening. They aren’t stupid, Mario. They know you’re the winner in this thing.” Ervine stops and puts the van in park, shutting the lights and engine off.

It’s silent for the moment as we observe the lights flickering off the water in front of us. How many times have I done something so similar to this? I don’t think I can even count. I got out of this game for a reason, but now I’m wrestling with it, with the adrenaline that courses through my veins at the very thought of going to battle again. It’s like a drug I’ve long been addicted to, which I got freedom from and now have relapsed back into. My fingers itch to hold the cold steel, feel the weight of the gun and bullet. I’m on edge just thinking of the loudpop,pop,popof a weapon discharging.

“We’re going to do this, Mario? Really? You want to take your brother out?” Ervine sounds skeptical, as if he thinks I could ever join ranks with him. “Isn’t that why you left the Family to begin with? Because he turned on his own blood, your father?”

He makes a good point, but my father wasn’t a monster. He killed men, but never without good reason. He stole, but only as a means to keep his business alive. Paolo has no regard for human life. His men who are most loyal are most often the ones betrayed for a buck, and the fact that we’ve been able to pull fifty-seven of them away from him is proof to that fact.

“I’m righting a wrong that was put into motion by my brother. Whatever happens after that fact is left to be determined.” As I finish my sentence, headlights appear near the gated entrance to the lot. Another van approaches slowly, and when it stops, the lights shut off then flash twice.

Ervine flashes our lights three times, and nods at me. “That’s him. You’ll like him. Clean-cut guy, never did business with Paolo. You’ll be able to trust him and his product.”

“Let’s go see what he has.” I slide out of the van first, and when my feet hit the blacktop, the other van’s doors open. Two men climb out and meet me and Ervine as we round the front of the van.

“Chip, this is Mario.” Ervine jerks his head in my direction, and the shadowy man, whose face is shrouded by a large-brimmed hat, nods at me.

“I’ve heard so many things about you—and your brother.” The man, Chip, extends his hand to me, and I shake it.

“I’m nothing like my brother,” I tell him, but I feel a twinge of guilt pinch my gut. I’m exactly like my brother. I just do things for the right reasons. Still, someone must believe in me or I wouldn’t have the need for this man’s services.

“Good, well I can’t stand your brother, so when Ervine told me you needed help taking him down, I obliged. Gave you my best deal, too.” He nods at the man standing next to him, and the guy rushes over to their van and opens the sliding door. The light inside comes on, revealing two large crates. He pries one open and takes one of the guns from it and rushes back, handing it to me for inspection.

It's a Glock 18, only issued to police. The cold steel cures the itch I have and soothes the monster inside me craving revenge. This weapon is not only highly illegal, but it’s also impossible to source, and this man has fifty of them in his van waiting to be put to action.

“Bonded, jacketed ammo coming too. Only the best.” The man crosses his hands at his waist and watches as I inspect the weapon, disassembling it in a matter of seconds then putting it back together just as quickly.

“Decent quality.” I want to ask where he got them, but I don’t dare. No one in this trade shares their tricks. “When will the rounds be here?”

“Two nights,” Ervine says, interrupting, and the man nods at me. His partner is strangely silent, but oftentimes, they are.

“Excellent. And Ervine has handled the payoff for these?” Of course, he’s already confirmed with me that he has, but I’m putting my seller at ease.

He shifts from one foot to the other and grunts. “He has, and as I’ve said, I gave you the best deal I could. I want to see that bastard taken out for his crimes.” Something tells me many of Paolo’s former associates or those in the business who know his work all feel the same way. He’s only made enemies on this journey, and that’s not a good place to be.

“Let’s get it put in our van, then.”

We waste no time hoisting the crates from one van to the other. Ervine moves the vehicle around so we have less space to carry things, and the four of us together hoist the crates across. With a handshake and an agreement to meet forty-eight hours from now for the ammunition, Ervine and I wrap up our business. It’s earlier than I expected it to be, which means more sleep for me tonight than I thought. That’s good, because the next few days are going to be tense with final plans. And with the stash of C4 tucked into the second crate, my plan has expanded to include something Paolo will never see coming.

Ervine brings me back to the subway station where I catch a train back to the priest’s car. I’m already anticipating the feeling of having Alice in my arms as I lie down to sleep. I don’t like the way she was acting when I was leaving, and I want to bring it up if she’s still awake. If not, I’ll surprise her by waking up with her, and we can chat before breakfast.

Back at the rectory, I park the car out front and let myself in. Everything is as I left it, lights off, doors locked. I leave the keys to the car on the hook by the door for Father Thomas to do his morning errands and kick off my shoes. I don’t hear Alice’s snoring, which means it’s likely she’s not sleeping yet. That puts a little oomph in my step as I peel off my jacket and toss it over the back of the couch on my way past.

But when I enter the bedroom, the lights are off and I don’t hear anything. I tiptoe to the bed, thinking it just happens to be the one night she is sleeping restfully without fits of nightmares or snoring, but her side of the bed is empty and cold. I tense and reach for the lamp, and turning it on reveals she’s not in bed at all.

I rush to the bathroom, but she isn’t there, so my next stop is the closet. Her bag is gone, and so is her sweater. The dresser is empty, her shoes are missing, and the last place I look—my underwear drawer—reveals something I feared all evening. My gun is gone, and so is Alice.

I knew she had something up her sleeve, some little antic she’s cooked up to try to get away from here to where she thinks she’s safe. She probably thinks she’s protecting me from myself or my brother, or both. Damn woman! How am I supposed to keep her safe if she runs off alone?

Now fuming, I return to the living room, shove my arms into my jacket sleeves as I stomp my shoes on, then snatch the keys and dart into the night. She can’t have gotten too far, and I can still catch up with her. I just need some help. I’ll have to reach out to my team, and potentially, a few men on the force who owe me favors.

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