Page 64 of His Virgin Vessel

"You want me to make the deal?" I wasn't one-hundred-percent sure what the end game was here.

"You think that'll help?" Dugas asked.

I shook my head. "Hell no. Rassi's got no reason to trust me. He'll want to keep his hold on me even after I leave town, just to make sure I don't come back. Maybe he'd let Corinne go, and maybe not. But, either way, she'd be living with a permanent death sentence, just waiting for it to be carried out."

Dugas inclined his head slowly. "That's pretty well what we thought too. As long as Rassi is out there, then Corinne’s not going to be safe. And there's a whole bunch of other people to be considered, as well."

You had to admire him for trying to be a good cop, even when he was a distraught father.

"So, I lead you to Rassi?"

"You wear a wire," Dugas went on. "When we've got what we need to put that scum away for the rest of his life, SWAT will go in, guns blazing."

"Sounds safe."

Dugas's eyes flicked up. "Is that a concern?"

"Not remotely."

"Because I don't want you doing this if you can't..."

"I'm doing it."

Dugas nodded. "I figured."

"What now?"

Dugas shrugged. "Wait. I don't think it'll take Rassi long to get in touch."

# # #

Although it wasn't part of Dugas's instructions, I told the rest of War Cry what was going down and my role in it. I could tell that not all of them were completely happy with helping the police, but the idea of taking out Rassi, once and for all, was clearly one that resonated with them. Since I had been out of the picture, the mafia's grip had been extending, more businesses had been hit, and friends had been targeted. If this was the best way to end that, then they were onboard.

As Dugas had thought, it didn't take Rassi long to get in touch. A message arrived that afternoon, with just a time and a place, and the words, 'Come alone,’ heavily underlined. I kept the rendezvous and, for the second time in as many days, had a bag placed over my head and was dumped into the back of a car.

"Frisk him," said a voice - the last sort of voice you want to hear saying things like that.

I was glad that the bag on my head hid my expression. Technology these days is something incredible. I remember when a wire was a bulky thing taped to a person's chest. You couldn't miss it. Now, the same job can be done by something that can be stitched into the lapel of your jacket, but is still powerful enough to pick up every word said. It even doubles as a tracker, as well. Still, when you're wearing a wire, and you hear the word 'frisk,' your heart still does a few calisthenics.

"He's clean."

God bless technology.

It was a long drive, but I daresay that they took me in a few circles to make sure I wasn't memorizing the route. Finally, we arrived at our destination, and I was marched inside, where they removed the bag from my head. We were inside what looked like an abandoned warehouse, but not one I recognized (you get to know abandoned warehouses pretty well in my line of work). There were ten mafia thugs standing around, all armed, and a further four flanking Frank Rassi, who was seated in a large chair in the center of the room. Rassi has always struck me as a guy who takes care of himself, but, I swear, I'd never seen him standing up. The chair seemed to go with him wherever he went, like it was glued to his lazy ass. Behind him was Corinne. I tried hard not to react to seeing her. I'm not sure I was entirely successful, but I at least managed to suppress the urge to run across the room and take her in my arms. That probably would have ended with me being shot. She was gagged, but I saw her eyes widen when she looked at me. I wish I knew what she was thinking. Was she pleased to see me? Was she trying to tell me something?

"Thanks for coming, Mr. Covert," Rassi said.

"Thanks for inviting me."

"I think this is the most civilized way in which to work out our differences."

"Do you?" The urge to tear his arm off and beat him over the head with it was a strong one in me, but I managed to suppress it.

"So much more gentlemanly than just fighting."

I managed to keep my voice relatively level, a trick I had learnt from Brian Dugas. "You think that kidnapping women is gentlemanly? Or civilized?"

Rassi spread his hands expansively. "It's so hard to get people to sit down and talk."

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