Page 59 of Count Down

“Do you trust me?”

“Absolutely,” he answers without a hesitation.

“Don’t go to the deal tonight. You’re to lay low. Send someone else instead.”

I can hear him thinking. He’s considering how the Russians are going to react if he doesn’t show up.

“Alright,” he finally says. But he still sounds skeptical. “Luca, is anything wrong?”

I hang up the phone. I’ve said what I need to say to him. I just hope he listens to me. I’m screwing over my family and damaging everything we’ve spent our lives working on. They’ll probably kill me for it. But I don’t want Raf or Mateo going down in the process. I don’t give a shit about the money they’ll lose. I know they’ll make it back. One of Raf’s guys will probably get locked up. But it won’t be him. That’s the best I can do.

I need the Russians stopped and this will take a big enough bite out of them.

With that plan in motion, I move on to my next issue. The Irish mafia. If I don’t kill Gina’s father, I’m breaking the deal Mateo made with Cormac Dolan, Underboss of the Irish Mafia.

The Barones got into a conflict over territory in West Philadelphia. It got deadly. It attracted the DA’s attention. Raf negotiated a cease fire until the DA was removed. If I refuse to kill Gina’s father, Mateo will have to send someone else after him in order to hold up the deal with Dolan.

But if I kill Cormac Dolan, the Irish Mafia will be in pieces. He doesn’t have a successor ready to go. The Irish would be so weakened they couldn’t come after Mateo and the Barones, if they even knew who did it. It’ll at least clean upsomeof the mess I’m making by keeping Gina’s father alive.

I drive toward I-95 and head up the Delaware Expressway to the Badlands. Just northeast of downtown. The Irish have a long history in the Badlands. It’s been their mainstay territory for over a hundred years.

For all I care, the Irish can have it. There’s more opportunity in other areas. Fuck, there are so many motorcycle gangs running around there that it keeps the Irish busy and distracted most of the time. Badlands is probably best known for its open-air drug markets. Sure, they do a lot of business, but it comes with a lot of management headaches.

Knowing Cormac Dolan, he’s most likely to be somewhere around here. It’s just a question of whether I can find him before it’s too late. I drive around the neighborhoods looking for Dolan’s car. He drives a pearl white Maseratti Ghibli. It should be easy to pick out from the rest of the cars around here.

I drive through Fishtown, Kensington, Richmond. I drive past any of the places I think he could be. Pubs, restaurants, chop shops, even past some biker hangouts. Finally, on the border of Olde Richmond and Port Richmond, I see his car. It’s parked on the corner outside of Mary’s Tavern.

Mary’s Tavern is a notorious Irish only bar. If you’re not Irish or if they don’t know you, they’ll show you the door. For the people who unsuspectingly walk in and try and order a drink, they tell them it’s a coffee shop and they don’t serve beer. Then they give you one chance to take the hint. It kind of makes you wonder why the place even has its name on the window.

I slowly pull past Mary’s and then turn down a side street. I pull in behind a car with a tarp over its roof and a suitcase on top of the tarp. Someone’s either living in it or using it as their storage locker. I turn off the car and look around.

A group of three teenagers ride past me on dirt bikes. All three of them are riding wheelies. The one in the back holding on by one hand, almost dragging his other hand on the street.

This is tough. It’s still daylight. Mary’s Tavern is surrounded by row houses. All of them are going to have their windows open. And as the sun goes down and it starts to cool, more people are probably going to come outside and either sit on their porches or go for an evening walk. I don’t know how long Dolan’s going to be at Mary’s. It looks like I’ve got to play the ball where it lies.

I go to the trunk of my car and pull out my bag. I change out of my dress shoes and into my sneakers then take off my suit jacket and drape it over the back seat. Grabbing the duffel and locking my car, I look around at my exits from here. This street’s lined with row houses. Tight roads that could make for a tough getaway. I can see the train tracks just behind the houses across from me. That could be something if I need it.

I should be able to get close enough to Dolan to take a clean shot. But the closer I get, the harder my getaway will be.

I turn the corner and look toward Mary’s Tavern. It’s just over 150 yards away. Close enough to hit Dolan and make a quick exit, but it’s not a very clean shot between all the parked cars. Plus, I can’t just pull out my sniper rifle on the corner and wait around for who knows how long. I need a safe spot to wait from with the best viewpoint. That usually means a rooftop.

I look down the row houses on the side of the street opposite Mary’s. They’re all two story. Fairly flat rooftops. Easy to work from if you can get up there.

There’s a narrow alleyway between two of the buildings just a few houses down from me. I head toward it. When I get to the alley, it looks like it could be useful. It’s dark and narrow, just wide enough for the trash cans and recycling bins lined up behind the small chain-link fence covering the entrance.

I’d prefer a fire escape, but it looks like this will have to do. I sling my duffel over my shoulder and hop the fence, coming down next to the trashcans. This alley is almost claustrophobic. Two people could barely pass each other in here. But the closeness of the buildings is what gives me a chance to climb.

The walls of both buildings are brick, but it’s obvious each building must have a different owner. One looks cleaner and newer. Some of the brick on the other building is damaged and the grout partially eroded. I roll up my sleeves and secure my duffel.

I press one hand against each wall and then jump up, placing one foot on either wall. Wedging my legs and hands between the wall, I can move myself up, switching the climb between my feet and my hands.

As I get more than halfway up, I laugh to myself. My legs, arms, and core feel strong. I’m pretty sure this is a lot easier than it would have been before I started doing pilates with Gina. I’ll have to tell her about this when I get back to her.IfI get back to her.

The brick on the older building feels even rougher and more damaged as I get to the rooftop. Small bits of it crumble under my hands and feet as I shift myself up to the rooftop. I dust the dirt and brick off my hands and thighs.

The rooftops are slightly pitched, but still easy to cross. I step carefully, knowing these buildings are old. I’d rather not fall through into someone’s bedroom. I must have crossed about a dozen narrow homes before I’m directly across from Mary’s Tavern.

I drop my bag and duck down below the small wall at the edge of the rooftop. Dolan’s car is still parked outside. He hasn’t left yet. I take out my Vintorez sniper rifle. I attach the butt, the silencer, and the scope and dig out the cartridge of hollow points. I shouldn’t need the armor piercing bullets from here. Not unless he’s wearing a bullet proof vest or I wanted to try to shoot through his car.

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