Deadly Shamrocks: An Irish Tale of Love, Murder and Revenge (9 page)

BOOK: Deadly Shamrocks: An Irish Tale of Love, Murder and Revenge
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Mary clutched Vivian’s hand tightly.  Looking into her daughter’s face, she only hoped that Vivie would take her advice and rethink her relationship with Michael. 

As Vivie lay in bed, her only thoughts were of Michael.
  She was heart broken.  Not necessarily because Michael withheld the truth from her, but because of the thought of living her life without him  in it.  As exhausted as she was from the bus trip, sleep evaded Vivie.  She could not shut out her thoughts.  If it were not for Joseph, things may be different.  She knew that she dared not even call Michael, at least not right now.  Joseph would be watching his every move.  Would Michael lie to Joseph and tell him that his orders were carried out, that he had killed her?  He would have to, for his own safety.  No, contacting Michael would put him in danger.  Even though Vivie was still trying to work out the issues of Michael’s actions in her own mind, the last thing she would ever do is put him in danger.  Perhaps, in a few weeks or months, things may be different.  If only Joseph were removed from the picture.  How she wished that she had learned more about becoming a cleaner. If Michael had only agreed to train her, if she only had the skills she needed, Joseph would no longer be a problem; Vivie would make sure of it.  Mary stirred on the other side of the bed, breaking Vivie’s train of thought.  “Dear God in heaven” Vivie thought to herself, “What am I doing?  Am I seriously laying here thinking of taking Joseph’s life?  “God have mercy on my soul, but I would, I would take his life, if it were within my power to do so.”

 
Vivie spent the rest of the night, fantasizing about the many ways she would kill Joseph.  Sleep finally came to Vivie, just before dawn. 

9.

MICHAEL AND TOMMY MEET AGAIN

Weeks pass, but a single day does not go by without Vivie entering Michael’s thoughts.
  He hoped she had made it to West Virginia safely.  He also hoped that Joseph had not had  any thoughts of checking on Vivie’s family….just to see how they were doing.  Things seemed to be back to normal with Joseph, as far as Michael was concerned.  Joseph continued to send Michael out on assignments.  Nothing was ever mentioned about Vivie or Joseph’s order to kill her.  After she had time to arrive in West Virginia, Michael called Joseph and told him the job was done.  He told Joseph he had taken her over to Jersey to whack her.  It was easy to get rid of her body there too.  Michael was counting on Joseph knowing this and knew he would not question it.   There was a deep rooted resentment for Joseph that Michael could not help but feel.  Had it not been for Joseph, he and Vivie would be together.  When thinking rationally, he knew that it was better that things were the way they were.  Joseph was right about one thing, Michael was a killer, and nothing would change that.  A wife and child had no place in Michael’s life. Still, he often thought of how it could have been. 

 
9:00 p.m., Michael’s phone rang, it was Joseph.

 
“Lucky, we need to talk.  I need you to come to my office as soon as possible.”

 
“I’ll  be there in ten minutes, Joseph.”

 
Michael hung up the phone, wondering why Joseph did not want to tell him anymore on the phone.  Must be something important or it would have waited until tomorrow.  Michael left his apartment and headed for Joseph’s office. 

 
“Joseph, what’s up?  You didn’t say much on the phone.”

 
“This is something I needed to talk to you about in person, Lucky.  We‘ve got big problems with the Westies.  One of our guys was supposed to meet an associate to pick up a load of furs shipped over from Russia.  When he got there he found it to be an ambush.  Three guys from the Westies had already killed our associate and were waiting on our guy.  It could have been a blood bath, but something didn’t set right with our guy.   He parked his truck a few blocks away from where he was supposed to meet our associate, and walked the rest of the way.  When he got to the warehouse, he saw one of the Westies standing out front.  Our guy went around to the back and climbed up to the second floor window where he could see inside the warehouse.   Our associate was, lying on the ground, his throat slit.  The other two Westies were waiting for our guy to show.  He got out of there and called me to let me know what was going on.  Lucky, not only did they rip us off for the furs, but they killed one our best associates.  We can’t let this slide.”

 
“Did our guy get a good I.D. of the Westies?”

 
“Yeah, he got the license number on the vehicle parked beside the warehouse.  I had our friend down at the police station run the number.  We have the I.D of at least one of them, and his address.  It would be a good bet they are all there.”

 
Joseph handed Michael a piece of paper with the address and a police mug shot of the owner of the vehicle. 

 
“You want me to handle this right away?”

 
“I want those stinking cum wads taken care of tonight.”

 
Michael got up to leave Joseph’s office, but stopped at the door when Joseph added one more thing.

 
“Lucky, one of the guys….we believe it was your old pal, Flannery.”

 
Michael felt his body become rigid.

 
“Don’t take any chances.  You know this guy is still looking for you, right?”

 
“Yeah, I know.  Don’t worry.  Have I ever let you down, Joseph?”

 
“Never.”

 
Michael left Joseph’s office and headed for his car.  Tommy’s face appeared in Michael’s mind.  He now had the opportunity he had wanted since Vivie’s attack, and, with Joseph’s blessing.   Stopping at his apartment to get the tools he would need for this job.  Not knowing how many people he would actually need to take out, he prepared for the worst case scenario.  Michael had learned, when it doubt, it’s better to be overly equipped than under equipped.   Michael knew he would not be able to drive his T- Bird to the Kitchen.  That car would definitely attract attention, and that’s the last thing he wanted tonight.  He looked around the parking garage for a vehicle he could
borrow
for a few hours.  Michael had
borrowed
his neighbors’ vehicles on more than one occasion.  He had never had a problem with someone thinking their car had been stolen.  Most of Michael’s neighbors were in for the night at this hour anyway.  He decided that he would borrow Mr. Truman’s Oldsmobile once again. Michael had used it twice before.  It was an unassuming vehicle, but had plenty of horsepower if there was a need for it.  Hotwiring vehicles, was a skill Michael had learned at an early age.  Firing the Oldsmobile up, he exited the garage and headed for Hell’s Kitchen.

 
At 2:00 a.m. the streets of the Kitchen were pretty well vacant, expect for a few bums and an occasional working girl. Michael found the address listed on the piece of paper Joseph had given him.  It was an old mechanics garage at the edge of town.  A couple of cars were parked out front, and a beat up old truck parked along the side of the garage.  He could see lights on inside, from the windows near the top of the building.  Michael parked the Oldsmobile two blocks away.  He didn’t notice anyone standing outside so he crept up to the garage bay doors, where he listened to see if he could hear anyone inside.  There was music playing and he could hear the sounds of at least two men talking.  Michael could not make out what they were saying, but it sounded like a party was going on inside.  He walked around to the side of the garage.  Carefully, he edged his way to a window and peaked inside.  Three men were inside, two were setting on a dirty brown sofa and one was seated at a table. Michel recognized one of the men from the mug shot Joseph had given him.  One of the men on the sofa was Flannery.  Michael saw a door on the other side of the window. 

 
“This is it.  Time to pay your debt,  boys.”  Michael made his way to the door.  Armed with a Glock 17 in one hand and an uzi in the other, Michael kicked open the door, guns blazing.  The men inside scattered, rolling on the floor, trying to find something to hide behind while pulling their guns to return fire on Michael.  Michael was able to take out the guy in the mug shot with the first round, leaving him lying on the floor, blood oozing from his bullet ridden body.  Michael spotted a second man, hiding behind the sofa.  Standing behind an old refrigerator, waiting to see what the man behind the sofa was going to do, Michael looked around but   didn’t see Flannery anywhere. 

 
“It’s two against one.”  The man behind the sofa yelled out.  “You may get one of us but not both.”

 
“I’ll take my chances.”  Michael replied.

 
When Tommy heard Michael’s voice, he knew exactly who he was dealing with.  Tommy immediately broke out in a cold sweat.  He knew if he didn’t get Michael, Michael would get him. 

 
“Well, well, if it’s not my old friend Mikey.”  Tommy called out from behind an old wooden desk he was crouching behind.  “How’s our little friend, Vivie?  Does she still dream about me?”

 
Tommy hoped his comments would prompt Michael into stepping out into view.  Michael didn’t make a sound.  Inside, all Michael could think about is seeing the life drain from Tommy’s body.

 
“Tommy, you know this guy?” The other man yelled across the room.

 
“Sure do.  We’re old friends.  We were fucking the same whore for a while, till he stole her from me.  Guess he wanted her all to himself.  Didn’t like it because he knew she liked my big cock more than his.”

Tommy continued his attempt to provoke Michael into stepping out where he could get a good shot at him.
 

“I don’t have time to waste here boys.
  When you hijacked that shipment of furs and killed that guy, you fucked up.  You pissed off the wrong people.  Now it’s time to face the consequences.”

Michael stepped around to the side of the refrigerator.
  When he did, the man behind the sofa attempted to run across the room, firing his gun in Michael’s direction.  Using the uzi, Michael nearly cut the man’s body in half with a hail of bullets.   He dropped to the floor, close to where the first man was laying.  When Tommy  heard the uzi going off, he made a dash for the door that Michael came in.  Michael shot at Tommy with his Glock, hitting him in the shoulder.  He ran out after him, thinking he would see Tommy on the ground, bleeding, but instead, he saw Tommy tearing out of the parking lot in his car. 

“He can’t get too far, he’s bleeding to bad.”
  Michael thought to himself as he ran down the street to the Oldsmobile.  Michael started the car and headed back into the neighborhood.  He didn’t see Tommy’s car anywhere.  He drove by Molly O’Hanlon’s but could see no trace of Tommy. 

“Cocksucker.
  Where are you?”  Michael said aloud to himself.  He knew he couldn’t leave the job half done.  He had to find Tommy and end this, once and for all.  Michael spent the rest of the night searching for Tommy.  By dawn, with still no sight of him, Michael had to accept the fact that Tommy had gotten away…..for now.   Michael drove home and parked the Oldsmobile in its spot.  As the door to the elevator opened, Michael was standing face to face with Mr. Truman.

“Good morning, Mr. O’Bannon.”
 

“Good morning, Mr. Truman.
  You have a good day now.”

“Made it back just in time.”
  Michael said to himself as the door to the elevator closed.  Michael changed clothes, put his guns away and then left again, to go meet Joseph.  He now had to tell Joseph that, not only did he not finish the job, but Flannery, of all fucks, knew he was working for Joseph. 

Tommy had gone to Ryan’s apartment.
  Bleeding badly, he knew he would have to get the bullet out in order for the bleeding to stop.  He couldn’t very well go to the hospital, so he had to depend on Ryan to help him.  When Ryan opened the door, Tommy could see that Ryan was high. 

“Fuck, Tommy…..what the hell happened to ya?”
  Ryan held the door open for Tommy to come inside.

“Never mind what happened, get me a towel and a shot of whisky.”

Ryan grabbed a towel and handed it to Tommy, then placed a glass and a bottle whisky on the table in front of him.

“I’ve got a bullet in my shoulder and you’re gonna take it out.”

“I can’t do that Tommy, I’m high, I can’t handle no knife right now.”

“When are you
not
high, you stupid fuck?  Looks like I have no choice but sit here bleeding until you come down.  Give me a couple more towels.  You better hope to Christ I don’t bleed to death here in your kitchen.”

Tommy relayed the story of the night’s events to Ryan. A few hours passed and Ryan finally came down from his high.
  Tommy handed Ryan his knife and told him to heat the blade over the fire on the stove top. 

“You have to cut in there and get the bullet, Ryan.
  Do you think you can do that, without killing me?”

“Sure, Tommy, I can get the bullet out.
  Do you want a hit of smack before we do this?”

 
Yeah, might not be a bad idea.”

Ryan walked over to the cupboard and removed a bag heroine.
  He quickly prepared a syringe and handed it to Tommy.

“What the fuck, Ryan?
  Do you really think I can shoot myself up with my shoulder like this?  I only have one hand for God’s sake.”

“Sorry, Tommy,
  I’ll do it.”

Ryan tied a rubber hose around Tommy’s arm and looked for a vein to insert the syringe.
  Soon Tommy was feeling no pain.

“Okay, get the fucking bullet out of me.”

 Ryan held the blade of the knife over the fire until it was glowing.  His hand shaking, he walked over and stood beside Tommy. He knew if he didn’t do this right, Tommy could end up bleeding to death.  He had never tried to remove a bullet from anyone.  As the blade entered his shoulder, Tommy screamed out in agony.  Even with the heroine in his system, the pain was almost more than he could bear. 

 
“I’ve got it Tommy, its out.”  Ryan held the bullet up for Tommy to see it.

 
“Hurry up and wrap it.  Now get some thread and sew me up.

“All I have is sewing thread, Tommy.
  You want me to sew you up with sewing thread?”

 
“If that’s all you have,  then yes, you stupid retard.  It has to be sewn up or I’ll keep bleeding.  “And make sure you serialize that needle.”

Ryan stitched the wound and then wrapped it in gauze.
  He was so shaken by the whole experience; the only thing he wanted to do now was get high again.

 
“Call Shane and tell him to roll his crippled ass over here.  We have business to talk about.”

BOOK: Deadly Shamrocks: An Irish Tale of Love, Murder and Revenge
7.31Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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