Bourbon & Blood: A Crime Fiction Novel (Bill Conlin Thriller) Read online

  A huge, intimidating man with a shaved head, bloody apron, and rolled-up sleeves stood over the bleeding man. Teeth and fingernails were scattered on the floor in front of the chair. Various tools, blades, and hypodermic syringes rested on a table to the right. I swallowed hard to keep the bile down. Squeezing my fists tight, pure rage welled up inside me. I couldn't form a single word or sentence.

  I flashed back to a mission in Afghanistan a couple of years ago. We were too late for one of our brothers, who had been strapped to a chair and slowly tortured for information. Pieces of him were scattered on the floor around his feet. We were trained not to give anything away about our base. Rank, serial number, and name was all they were going to get out of him and nothing else. The anger that I had buried from finding him like that was bubbling up. I felt that same rage from not being sent sooner to save him. It still sat somewhere deep inside my gut. I took a step forward wanting to kill this tormentor and end this horror show.

  Morgan put his hand on my shoulder to stop me and finally spoke. “This is Bran Whelan. He manages our information needs.” Morgan’s voice was thin with a nasally pitch. It wasn’t at all how I’d expected him to speak and I almost laughed.

  Then Whelan turned and pointed a bloodied glove at me. “So this is the new guy?”

  “Yeah, this is Bill Conlin.”

  An evil grin moved across Whelan’s face. “You'd better watch your ass or you’ll be next,” he said. He pointed a pair of pliers at me, dredged up some phlegm, and spat.

  “The show’s over, Morgan. Get the fuck outta here now. Giving away family secrets is unhealthy. Ain’t that right, Rudy?”

  Morgan looked at me. “Congratulations,” he said. “You’re Rudy's replacement.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jimmy was waiting for me outside. Kenny was gone.

  “Mr. Sullivan is great, right?” he said, all excited.

  “You're a fucking idiot, Jimmy. These guys are murderers.”

  “Come on Bill, its just business stuff. I do collections.”

  “Did you know?”

  “Know what?”

  “About that fucker Bran Whelan!” I screamed in his face and shoved him back against a parked car.

  “I've seen him around. What’s the big deal?”

  “I met Bran while he was dismantling my predecessor, Rudy." I said, aggravated.

  “Bill, I swear. How could I know?” he said, turning a shade of gray.

  “His fucking teeth and nails were all over the floor.”

  “Maybe they wanted to set things straight, you know, ’cause you’re Army tough.”

  “I wanted work not a death sentence. Now I’m dead.”

  “Just follow the rules like me. You can do this. It'll be great.”

  “You’re a fool, Jimmy, you know that? One wrong step and we're dead.”

  I was disgusted. I needed to get away from this place, from Jimmy, and from what I had just witnessed. Why would they show me that? It had to be a message of what would happen to me if I screwed up. I waved down a taxi and jumped in slamming the door. The driver took off.

  “Where to, mister?” he asked.

  “Just drive uptown.”

  I lit up a cig, and the taxi driver got upset. “You can’t smoke in this cab.”

  “Stop here!” I shouted. I handed him a five and got out.

  We went only a few blocks, but it was enough to get away from McKenzie’s. How could I be so dumb? I remembered the envelope and took it out of my pocket. It was filled with hundred dollar bills. I counted the money and my eyes almost popped out. Five thousand dollars. There was also a note in the envelope with an address scrawled on it: 747 Tenth Avenue, 18J.

  What the fuck was this, a setup? I hailed another taxi and headed to West 51st. It felt like I was dreaming. What was I getting myself into?

  The cab pulled up in front of an expensive high-rise apartment building. The doorman stood outside wearing an official red uniform jacket with shiny gold buttons and a hat with a nametag: “Tony.” He was smiling and staring at me while I stood there like an idiot. I didn’t know what to say.

  “Are you alright, sir?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, with a confused look on my face.

  He looked at me for a few seconds. “Can I be of service, sir?”

  I looked at the keys in my hand and then back to Tony.

  “I'm going in...” I began, but he cut me off.

  “Allow me get the door for you, sir. Welcome to Hudson View Terrace.”

  I stepped into the lobby and was blasted by the coldest air conditioning I've ever felt. The floors and walls were made of red marble with gold veins. I could see my reflection anywhere I looked.

  A guard sat at a cherry wood desk, a sign-in book open before him. He looked up as I approached. “Good afternoon, Mr. Conlin,” he said. “Go right up.”

  At the eighteenth floor I got out of the elevator and walked down the hallway to apartment 18J. Should I ring, knock, or use the key? My nerves were getting the best of me. I didn't want to walk into a murder or another torture scene.

  I took a deep breath, then took the keys out of my pocket and unlocked the door. When I pushed it open, a brunette with startling ice blue eyes, pale skin, and short black hair startled me. “I'm sorry, is this your place?” I asked.

  “Hi, I'm Jackie. You must be Bill,” she said, with a slight Irish accent. “Come in.”

  Jackie looked to be in her early thirties. She wore a white T-shirt and no bra--her nipples showed through the thin cotton of her shirt. She had on red shorts with no shoes, and toenails painted red. She was attractive, but not really my type. Scratching behind my ear, I squinted. I was feeling perplexed. I guessed this must be my first job, though she didn’t seem to have any problems with me being there.

  I followed her into a large living room with modern furniture, a large flat screen TV on the wall, and hard wood floors. There was a hallway to the left and a kitchen on the right. Tall windows spread across the front of the apartment and led to a balcony. I peered out at an incredible vista of the Hudson River and hills of New Jersey. It was a fantastic view; I could see for miles.

  “So Jackie, what business do you need help with?” I asked.

  She laughed. “No business. This is your apartment and I come with it.”

  “You live here?” I asked, somewhat shocked.

  “Aye, this is where I work and live,” she said, with a coy smile. “Come on. I’ll show you around?”

  We walked down the hallway. There were two other rooms on the right, a bathroom to the left. In the first room was a desk with a laptop, a chair, and a couch. The next room was a large master bedroom, with another bathroom, which had the same incredible view as the living room. There was a king-size bed, an armoire, and another giant flat screen TV. I headed to the closet and opened the door. I was surprised to find a giant walk-in, the size of the office. It was organized with racks and a shelving system. Men's clothes and accessories covered every inch of space; suits, shirts, ties and casual outfits. The back wall was shelved with shoes, boots, and sneakers.

  I sat on the bed. I rubbed my eyes and sighed. Jackie came over and sat next to me.

  “Rough day, huh?” Jackie asked.

  I started to say something, but stopped. She undid my belt and pulled down my pants. “You need to unwind,” she said.

  I couldn't hide my excitement. I hadn’t been this close to a woman in a long time. Her perfume smelled of vanilla and Jasmine. She laid me down then took off her clothes and straddled me, rubbing her soft, powdery skin and small perky breasts across my chest. Things progressed quickly. We soon finished together, panting, sweating, and giggling.

  I fired up a cig and we shared it. “Do you know Rudy?” I asked her.

  She gave it a thought, then replied with a sad expression, “He used to live here, but has been reassigned.”

  Seeing this upset her I changed the subject. “What do you know about Mr. Sullivan?” I asked her.<
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  “Stay on his good side, or you’ll get reassigned too.”

  About a half hour later, I headed over to my crappy building to get some of my things. The smell of garbage and cooking almost made me gag. Once inside, I decided to crash out for a while and reflect on the day's events. After a while the phone buzzed. Jimmy.

  “Hey,” I said casually.

  He was agitated. “Dude, you gotta tell me what's going on?” he said.

  Sleep in my voice, I said, “I'll meet you at the pub in an hour.”

  Three hours later I was still in bed. My buzzer startled me awake. Jumping up I pressed the intercom button.

  “Who is it?”

  “You’re gonna make me fucking come get you? You are such a fucking asshole. Buzz me in.” Jimmy said.

  I pressed the buzzer and unlocked the apartment door. He came rushing in and slammed the steel door shut. He took a deep drag of his cig, cheeks sucking in outlining his cheek bones, the cherry red tip glowing as it burned brightly in the dark room. Seconds later the room was filled with smoke and he came closer. A combination of whiskey and cigarette breath assaulted my sense of smell.

  “Gimme the fucking dirt. Where'd you go and what’s your deal?” he said.

  “You’re not gonna believe this,” I said, then I replayed the day’s events. He was riveted. His eyes, red and glassy, were glued to me; a cigarette hung from his bottom lip, defying gravity.

  “That’s fucking unbelievable!” he shouted. “Rudy must’ve pissed them off real bad!”

  “I gotta find out what happened.”

  “Money before you even started. An apartment and a horny tart.” He paused again, taking it all in, and then blurted, “You are the man!”

  I looked straight in his red eyes. “Yeah, I might just be a dead man,” I replied.

  He lit another cig. “How did Mr. Sullivan leave it?”

  I rubbed my face and sighed. “He wants to see me in the morning with my decision. So I guess I get Rudy’s job or something worse.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Rudy appeared and he was yelling, but I couldn't understand anything he said. It was all gibberish. He attacked me, his hands around my throat. As we struggled on the floor, I grabbed a knife and stabbed him half a dozen times. Blood spurted and gushed out of him. I looked down at my hands; they were soaked with blood. The knife dropped to the floor.

  Jackie let out a frightened scream, and then I shoved her into a green plastic bag. I wrapped it tightly with duct tape, but she was alive, kicking and wiggling. I could see the shape of her mouth opening and closing through the plastic like a fish out of water. She was trying to get air. She was suffocating. Filled with anger, I started kicking Jackie’s head as she struggled to breathe. “Stop moving!” I yelled. “Stop moving!”

  I continued kicking her head until she went still. Horror, fear, and guilt racked me as I realized what I’d done. I had to hide the bodies, but how was I going to get them out of Sullivan’s apartment?

  I suddenly became focused on my shoes. They weren't mine, but were new from that big walk-in closet. There was shit all over the bottoms. I took a few steps and turned to see that I had left a trail of shit behind me, all over the expensive floors. Wiping each shoe on the floor only left more stains. I became so frustrated that I took off the shoes to clean them. When I flipped the shoes over they were already clean.

  I woke up in darkness, sweating and gasping for air.

  My mind was stuck cycling like a broken record, repeating, “How can this be? They can’t be clean!”

  My heart was pounding so hard with fear I thought it would jump out of my mouth. I could still picture the shapes and images from the nightmare in my mind. The guilt and embarrassment of kicking Jackie to death clung to me. The green plastic bag and her mouth struggling for air burned in my mind, every time I closed my eyes I could still see her. Chills shook my body. Cold sweat soaked the sheets and the T-shirt I had been sleeping in.

  I got up, changed, and walked to the kitchen to get some water. Jimmy was out cold on the couch, snoring loudly. Cigarette ash was all over his chest, a black-tipped filter sticking out of his puckered lips like a baby’s pacifier.

  “You drunk fucking idiot, you could’ve burned us down,” I said under my breath.

  I went back to bed and stared at the ceiling until sleep took me again.

  When I woke the next time it was morning. I took a quick shower, made coffee, and changed into jeans, a white button-down shirt, and black boots.

  My nightmare was over, but the anxiety remained. Mr. Sullivan expected me to accept his generous offer. I had no doubt that any answer other than yes would lead to Bran Whelan’s chair.

  Now I was chain-smoking as I paced like a caged tiger. I went into the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. I brushed my teeth, gelled and combed my hair, and looked in the mirror. I looked like I was about to pass out.

  I squinted at my reflection. “You can do this,” I said to myself. “Just stay cool.”

  Jimmy was ecstatic, puffing away and drinking already from a flask that he kept in his jacket. He looked at his watch and offered me a swig. I shook my head and continued smoking and pacing. For Jimmy this was like a Hollywood movie premier on opening night. He felt like the producer or agent, discovering my raw talent. He expected to cash in on whatever Mr. Sullivan’s plans were. I was getting the feeling that he knew more than he was letting on, but he never clued me in.

  Jimmy put his cigarette out in one of my coffee mugs. Looking frantically at his watch again, he said, “Let’s go brother. Our ride should be outside.”

  Kenny was waiting at the curb for us, engine revving. I climbed into the backseat, and Jimmy jumped into the front, slamming the passenger door. Kenny gunned the engine and bolted out into traffic. A taxi screeched its brakes and swerved out of Kenny’s way. I was tossed from side to side, sliding around on the backseat. Jimmy hung out the window yelling at people at the curb. “Get out of the fucking way, you idiots!”

  This time both Kenny and Jimmy escorted me into McKenzie's. Morgan sat at the table where I had met Mr. Sullivan. As we approached, Morgan’s cologne greeted me first.

  “Mr. Sullivan will be here shortly. Please sit down.” I still couldn’t get over how nasal his voice was.

  Eventually Mr. Sullivan and Bran Whelan came out of the back room. Sullivan signaled the waiter and took a sip from an imaginary teacup. The waiter nodded, disappeared, and returned with tea and biscuits. Jimmy started to light up. Kenny intercepted the cigarette, leaned over, and whispered something into his ear.

  Mr. Sullivan addressed me directly. “William, it is time for your decision.”

  “I’ve decided to accept your generous offer,” I said.

  He began swirling a spoon around in his tea.

  “That is a wise decision, William. Sadly, our friend Rudy was unable to remain loyal while working with some of our contacts. I hope you won’t make the same mistake.” Looking at Jimmy for a few beats, he added, “Unfortunately, there are those who fall victim to temptations of our rivals. Jimmy has performed well with collections.”

  I glanced over at Jimmy, his eyes locked on the boss, nodding and smiling, proud of the pat on the back.

  Mr. Sullivan then caught my eye and placed his hand on my arm. “Listen to me, William,” he said. He paused for a few seconds, then began again. “We must maintain dominance over the West Side. We are constantly being tested. The Russians, Mexicans, and others probe us for weaknesses. These people have no honor, no respect, and no fear. For that reason, an example must be made. A show of strength.”

  Pausing again for a few beats, he smiled and added, “I’m a generous benefactor when my needs are met. I’ve demonstrated how good and bad behavior is rewarded. Our partners in Little Italy want this problem handled quickly. Things will settle down for a while after some trouble makers are dealt with.”

  He paused again and looked directly at me. “William, I expect absolutely no witnesses.”r />
  Then he finished his tea, stood, and patted my back.

  “Morgan is your contact,” he continued. “He will supply information and all the resources you need. Don’t come back here until this assignment is complete.”

  Sullivan left. Whelan gave me an evil grin, then followed Mr. Sullivan out, along with a couple of other men in suits. When my assignment is complete? What was my assignment? Morgan studied me, then looked from Kenny to Jimmy. “I hope you will excuse us gentleman. We have some things to discuss privately. Please follow me, Bill.”

  I followed Morgan upstairs and down a long hallway. He unlocked a door. Once we were inside, he closed and locked the door behind us.

  In the room, a large map of the tri-state area hung on one wall. Different color pins dotted the West Side of Manhattan. Morgan unlocked a filing cabinet and pulled out a manila folder.

  “There is a new leader of the Mexican gangs,” he said, looking at the contents of the folder. “In the past they mostly fought among themselves. Recently, an Armando Sanchez has been organizing other Mexican gangs.” Morgan then fanned out several black and white pictures of a man wearing a white sleeveless T-shirt with tattoos all over his neck and shoulders. He had a thick goatee and shiny black hair with bangs at an angle almost covering his eyes.

  “Sanchez has been harassing our prostitution customers, and killed some of our employees. He stormed into one of our locations and shot the bouncer and two of our girls. Sanchez operates out of a Mexican Bar near 116th and Broadway. He manages a brothel around the corner. It's always busy and they service all types of clients. Your job is to keep an eye on him, and not get noticed. Learn his patterns and find a weak spot in his routine.”

  I looked at the pictures carefully. This was going to be difficult but not impossible. I wondered to myself how a white guy wasn’t going to look out of place in Harlem, but I kept that to myself.