I take a couple more pictures on my phone and send them to Josh, then hang back as Jackson and his leather-clad protector get in the car. I lean against one of the small trees that line the street on both sides, pretending to talk on the phone as I casually glance over at them.
The woman holds the door open, but holds up a hand to stop Jackson from getting in. She then looks all around the street in every direction — including up, which I find interesting… She glances in my direction. With her glasses on, I can’t see her eyes, but I know she won’t spot me. I’m practically invisible when I want to be, so there’s no way she’ll pick me out of the crowd on a standard surveillance run like this.
She finally allows Jackson to duck inside and she quickly climbs in after him, slamming the door shut behind her. The limo speeds off, turning left and out of sight at the first set of lights they reach.
Her thoroughness is going to be an issue… She has a level of professionalism you don’t normally find in your typical bodyguards. Not many people would think to look up and check for snipers. I’m certain she’s highly trained. She might even be in my line of work, I’m not sure yet. But I’m very concerned with her presence in the equation.
I walk back the way I came, heading for my motel. My recon trip hasn’t quite gone how I expected it to and it’s left me with more questions than answers. This supposedly straightforward job is suddenly a lot more complicated, and I’ve got a nagging feeling it’s not going to get any easier.
My recon trip set my spider sense tingling, so I headed back to my motel room to clear my head and plan my next move. It’s a standard-sized room, filled with standard stuff. The window overlooks the parking lot, which is empty save for one silver, four-door sedan. There’s a flat-screen TV mounted on one wall, above a table that has a lamp on it. It’s facing the double bed, which is unusually comfortable, given the price of the room. The bathroom has a shower stall, a toilet and a sink. It’s nothing fancy, but it certainly does the job for a couple of days while I conduct my business. I’m not cheap or anything. If I’m honest, I have more money than I know what to do with — I’m just not one for all that luxurious, five-star, A-list crap. I’m more than happy in a generic, anonymous, no-frills motel, away from everyone else.
I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, enjoying the air conditioning and running everything through my head. Josh insists I keep a laptop with me when I’m traveling, even though I’m far from competent using one. It’s next to me, booting up. He texted me earlier to say he’s sending me all the information he’s found out so far, so I’ll look through it all now and see if I can start piecing things together.
Josh Winters is a genius. Sure, we insult each other non-stop when we talk, but that’s just to get us both through the day. When it all comes down to it, the guy is a legend in so many ways, I’ve lost count. The things he can do with a computer are mind-blowing. I don’t pretend to understand half of what he says or does. But he gets results, every time. I need information — Josh gets it. I need a car, a plane or a gun — Josh arranges it. I need fake documents — Josh makes them for me.
I open up my e-mails and find three, each with multiple attachments. I open up the first one, titled Ted Jackson. He’s apparently a high-ranking employee of a large, multi-national private military corporation called GlobaTech Industries. In addition to having their own army-for-hire, they have numerous subsidiary divisions for weapons development, technological research… even health care. They own the land that Jackson’s meant to be selling to Pellaggio.
In his line of work, I can understand him being cautious. Military contracts are big business — like, billions of dollars big. Competition for them is fierce to say the least. But handcuffing his briefcase to his wrist for a regular meeting, riding around in a limousine that would make the President jealous and hiring a very hot and probably lethal bodyguard still seems like overkill to me.
Although, having said that, he’s just screwed over the biggest mob boss in the state… Maybe it’s not so surprising that he’s upped his personal security.
I turn my attention to the second e-mail about my employer. Maybe there’s something in here that might offer an explanation.
Roberto Pellaggio is a big time mafia Don who owns half of Heaven’s Valley. On the surface, he’s opened legitimate businesses all across the city, creating many jobs and generating lots of revenue that he’s re-invested into local areas. He owns car dealerships, barbershops, nightclubs, and casinos. All big business. All above board.
But underneath all that respectable businessman crap, however, is where he earns his real money. Drugs, prostitution, extortion… you name it. You go down the list of crimes the mob can commit, and he ticks every box. The money they earn gets laundered through their legitimate businesses and it disappears back into the city. With the help of some clever accounting, Pellaggio is running a massive, highly profitable empire, and given how much money he's invested in the city, he’s very popular with local government officials and law enforcement. So basically, the guy’s a pretty big deal and definitely not someone you want as an enemy.
I look through the details on the e-mail and find a news report from a couple of weeks ago that details how Pellaggio has been trying to buy a plot of land near the outskirts of Heaven’s Valley. It goes on to explain how he’s looking to expand his empire by building another casino, like Manhattan had said to me earlier. The land is ideally situated near the city limits, so it holds appeal to people from neighboring towns and cities. In theory, a casino there would service all of the state’s gambling needs north of Vegas.
Then, a few days later, another report surfaced in the business section of one of the local papers explaining how the deal has apparently fallen through. There’s a picture of our good friend and future corpse, Ted Jackson. The article goes on to say how Jackson pulled out of the deal for undisclosed reasons, allegedly costing Pellaggio hundreds of millions of dollars in potential earnings.
I guess that’s why they called me in… No wonder Pellaggio’s pissed.
Okay, so on the surface it still seems fairly cut and dry: Pellaggio wants to continue his monopoly of Heaven’s Valley, but Jackson unscrupulously got in the way of that by cancelling the deal. Pellaggio wants to send a clear message and get his business venture back on track, so he hired me to take out Jackson.
But something still doesn't feel right about it all. Jackson would’ve benefitted from the deal as well, making a significant amount of money from selling the land. Plus, while I’m sure there are lots of valid reasons why he would want to pull out of the deal, he’s smart enough to know that not explaining himself to the likes of Roberto Pellaggio would end badly for him…
Whenever there is doubt, there is no doubt — that’s one of the first things they taught me, back in the day. Trust your gut and never pull the trigger until you’re satisfied. Some people in my line of work prefer not to know anything — they just turn up, shoot, and disappear with their money. Me? I have to know everything about everything. If you ask a shrink, they’ll probably say I have control issues that need addressing or something. But personally, when it comes to this job, I simply want to be the smartest guy playing the game. As much as I like getting paid for shooting people, sometimes ignorance isn’t bliss. Especially when dealing with the mob, because for all I know they’re setting me up in some way by hiring me to kill Jackson.