by Captain Sammitch and TheTimeTrust
New Orleans, Louisiana:
"Where's the chopper?" Nick DiVecchio shouted.
"He's gone," Phil Smith replied as he set down between two apartment buildings. "But I've got no idea when he's coming back. We gotta get to my car, now."
"Wait!" the would-be mobster called as Phil started to run off, still carrying Latisha Piper.
"What is it?" Phil asked, turning.
"I gotta know!" Nick called. "Who are you?"
"Why do you care?" Phil asked.
"You just slipped past about fifty cops and wasted four of my guys!" DiVecchio snapped. "I gotta know who the hell you are!"
Phil scowled at him. "Watch your mouth," he said coldly, indicating the child in his arms.
DiVecchio jogged up to him. "Look," he began, "I think you owe it to me to--"
Still holding Latisha with one arm, Phil whirled around faster than DiVecchio could blink and slammed the kid against the brick wall of one of the buildings. "Look," he growled, "I just got done saving your sorry butt from your guys and those fifty cops. I'm doing my job here. My girlfriend's dead, the FBI and at least two police departments are after me, I was just forced to kill people for the first time in almost three months, and I think I dropped my car keys back there. Don't piss me off!" His face reddened. "Sorry," he apologized to Latisha, who by this time was nearly catatonic and well past caring.
"Sandcrawler here."
Phil had completely forgotten about his secure line to Grissom Montag. "What's the situation?" he asked.
"Job's done," the merc replied, "but I've run into a... complication. Or two."
Phil's eyes widened. "Where are you?"
"Coming by your 10-20 in about five minutes."
"Wait!" Phil warned. "There's cops all over the place. Are you going to the exit point?"
"That's a negative, mate. Denyce 'ere's not looking too good. I'm heading off to get 'er some medical attention."
"Hospitals ask questions!" Phil argued.
"You have a better idea?" Grissom replied impatiently. "I'm not telling you how to run your operations, am I?"
Phil sighed. "All right. Chances are you won't have an APB on your head within the next few minutes, at least."
"What's that, mate?"
Phil rolled his eyes. "I'll tell you in a moment. Look, I'm gonna head for the hospital and look after Denyce. You'll probably want to get back to the island; I got a call that the team just returned. I'll take the girls to the exit point once Denyce gets out of the ER."
"You sure you got it handled, mate?" Grissom asked uneasily.
"You forget with whom you're dealing," Phil said with a smile. "Get to the hospital. I'll be joining you shortly."
The hospital:
"'Bout time you got here," Grissom said as Phil strolled through the door with Latisha Piper in tow.
"Sorry I'm late," Phil said. "Got tied up downtown." He let Latisha wander around the waiting area but kept an eye on her.
The mercenary shrugged. "What can you do?" He checked his watch. "I'm heading back. Denyce should be released within the hour."
"So it wasn't as bad as you initially thought?"
"A good deal of emotional trauma," Grissom explained, "but only slight physical trauma to match." He noticed that Diana Piper was missing and raised an eyebrow. "Tied up downtown?"
Phil gestured to Latisha, who was sitting alone by a window. "Shoot-out. Couldn't save her mother. The little girl saw it. Better not bring it up without a good shrink available."
Grissom looked down. "Damn."
Phil nodded. "Yeah." He looked outside to where Nick DiVecchio was keeping a lookout for the police.
"You okay?" the merc asked.
Phil chuckled. "In a manner of speaking. The last few days haven't quite caught up with me yet. I've been ignoring everything except this mission, and I'm sure that once it's over, everything will catch up to me." He frowned. "Not sure how I'm gonna break this to Kit."
Grissom put a hand on Phil's shoulder. "You did what you could, mate. No sense floggin' yourself over what you couldn't 'ave done." He looked around. "I'm heading for my jet. Get the girls to the charter plane at the airport, and we can all go home."
"Sounds like a plan," Phil replied. He saw a doctor emerge from the ER with a stack of charts. "Looks like Denyce might be ready to go."
"Take care of yourself," Grissom advised him. "And keep your 'ead up. There's bound to be more of Gambini's stooges running around out there."
Phil nodded. "I'll keep my eyes peeled."
Grissom walked off as Phil turned to meet the doctor. "Are those charts for Denyce Piper?"
"That's correct," the doctor replied. "She's doing much better. Mild hypothermia from being immersed in cold water for an extended period of time, but we managed to stabilize her blood temps. Some bruising and swelling where she was bound with duct tape and electrical cables, but that should go away in a few days."
"Is she cleared to leave, then?" Phil asked.
"She can be released, yes, but not to you, unless you're her legal guardian or an appointed representative."
"Actually," Phil replied, "I'm with the State Department."
The doctor raised an eyebrow. "Really? Then what brings you here?"
"The girl's father lives in La Perdita," Phil explained, "and there was an international criminal organization involved in the girl's kidnapping. I've been appointed to return both girls to their father." He looked around. "This area isn't secure, by the way, so if you'll permit me, I can have both girls out of here and under the protection of a police escort very shortly."
The doctor shrugged and pointed to a receptionist's desk. "All right. Paperwork's over there."
Phil nodded. "Thank you, sir." He walked over and began filling out forms.
"I'm sure you're anxious to be on your way," the receptionist commented with a smile.
Phil smiled back. "You have no idea."
New Orleans Municipal Airport:
"I don't like this," Nick complained as Phil walked through the gate and onto the tarmac.
"Why not?" Phil asked. "Much less hassle than an international airport."
"Much less security, too," Nick replied.
"Do you know something I don't know?" Phil asked as he walked toward Hangar 11, leading the Piper girls by the hands.
Nick shook his head. "They didn't tell me much. But I dunno if they've got more guys running around here or not."
"It'd be really nice to know," Phil said sarcastically.
"I know," Nick said. "I just don't know if--"
"What?" Phil noticed DiVecchio's face drain of color and turned around.
A black Cadillac was speeding toward them on the tarmac. Phil looked and saw that the hangar was only about fifty yards away. He turned to Nick. "Run," he said quietly.
DiVecchio scooped up the Piper girls. "But what about you?" he asked.
"Go!" Phil ordered.
Nick obeyed and took off running for the hangar. The Cadillac turned to follow him, but Phil drew his .44 and shot out both tires on the right-hand side. The Cadillac skidded to a stop a few yards away, and four men with guns climbed out. They didn't look too happy.
"Evening, gentlemen," Phil said with a smile. "Care for a little fun?"
Nick DiVecchio had seen Phil Smith pull off some amazing feats in the past half-hour, but he knew there was no way he'd get past a carload of Gambini's best gunslingers. He tried to grab Latisha's hand, but the girl dodged him. "You hurt me," she whimpered.
"Look, kid," Nick said impatiently, "I'm real sorry, okay? But Mr. Smith said to get you to the plane, and that's what I'm gonna do. There are very bad men with guns coming, and they won't hesitate to hurt you way worse than anyone back at the apartment. Now, you can grab my hand and come along on your own, or I can pick you up and carry you. Either way, we're going."
Latisha grabbed his hand as Denyce grabbed his other hand, and they sprinted toward the hangar as the Cadillac disgorged its load of five very angry and armed to the teeth Mafiosi.
"You better figure out some way to pay for those tires, Mr. Smith," one of them said slyly.
Phil just looked at him and smiled. "I've slipped away from an NYPD dragnet. I've busted up a Colombian drug ring. I just took out five of your buddies less than an hour ago. If you little-leaguers think you've got something for me, I would usually be more than happy to accommodate your pathetic attempts at retribution. But since I'm on a schedule, I'm afraid I can't help you there."
"Too bad," another one said as he raised his gun. "It's much more fun when they put up a fight."
Phil looked over his shoulder and saw the private jet taxiing out of the hangar and come to a stop. Nick DiVecchio leaned out of the door and motioned to him.
"I bet I could hit it from here," a third gunman said with a smile as he aimed a high-caliber automatic in that direction. "Take 'em all out while you watch, and then figure out some way to stop you."
Phil smiled. "I bet you could."
The Cadillac's gas tank spontaneously ignited, setting off ammunition and explosives hidden in the car. The resulting explosion launched the car twenty feet in the air and incinerated everything within a fifty-foot radius.
Except for Phil Smith. He simply took in the scene with grim satisfaction, then turned and walked toward the plane.
It was time to go home.
Downtown New Orleans:
Vincenzo Gambini sat nervously in the fancy business office he kept downtown. The fact that he had fifteen armed guards surrounding the office on all sides, as well as two in his office itself, did little to comfort him.
Someone was gunning for him. Or at least that's how it seemed.
His nephew Carlo, who had been on the job only a couple of weeks now, had just been found dead in his garage, a package containing his... ah... man-thing... mailed to his wife.
Across town, three of his best guys had lost their heads -- quite literally -- while attempting to hit a local judge who had been giving his family a hard time. The judge escaped and somehow gained ahold of some damning evidence that had the potential to bring him down.
And, to top it off, a total of seven of his guys were killed at random all over town, each of whom were with friends who saw nothing, and each of whom had pieces of paper stuffed down their throat, each of which said:
GAMBINI IS DEAD
GAMBINI IS DEAD
GAMBINI IS DEAD
Ever since then, understandably enough, Gambini had been keeping himself out of the public eye.
His nightclubs and gambling joints could handle themselves, he supposed, though attendance had dropped suddenly for some inexplicable reason. His dealers kept on disappearing, a few of them explaining they were, "Moving away... far, far away." And the heads of the other families wouldn't return any of his calls. It was strange. Business wasn't doing so good these days.
And then there was this business with that deadbeat Piper. Seems his kids had been rescued right out from under his guys' noses -- at great loss of life, it must be noted -- although the mother seemed to have been killed. Who was this mofo Kit Piper, anyway? He seemed to be better connected than Gambini ever suspected. He knew something about the MBL Consulting gig Piper was involved with, but it seemed to be a real small-time operation. Strictly amateur. So who was knocking off all of his guys?
"Hello, Mr. Gambini."
Vincenzo Gambini jerked as he heard the voice in the room, and he jumped up and looked around. There was no one to be seen, and there didn't seem to be any place to hide. No closets to hide in or couches to hide behind at all.
"Wh-who's there?"
"I think you know, Gambini..."
All of the hairs on the back of Gambini's neck seemed to stick straight up just then. "Y-you're the one who's been whacking all my guys, aren't ya?" he said nervously, at the same time reaching into his coat pocket and producing two guns. "Well, wherever you are, you're gonna DIE, YOU SONUVA--"
BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM
Gambini shot his guns in virtually every direction of the room, but as the echoes of the gunshots began to dim down -- and why hadn't any of his bodyguards come rushing in then? -- the only sound in the room that could be heard was laughter:
"HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA"
"Who the fuck ARE you?" he screeched.
"I am your worst nightmare. A-heh. No, no... scratch that. It doesn't quite sound like me. It suffices to say that I was hired by a Mr. Kit Piper of Puerta Mibela, La Perdita, in the Lesser Antilles chain in the Caribbean islands. You've been a very naughty boy, haven't you, Gambini?"
Sweat began to pour off the mob boss' face. It seemed to be getting hotter in here. "Whatever the guy paid you, I'll double it -- no, TRIPLE it! Whatever you want, man, I can give you!"
A pause.
"Hmm... No. No, Mr. Gambini, I'm afraid I can't accept your offer. I have a reputation to uphold, after all. Who would trust to hire old Griffin again once word got out that he had failed to complete an operation merely because his victim was willing to pay a better price? I do have principles, sir."
Gambini sunk to his knees as he heard the name Griffin -- was there anyone in the Underworld who hadn't heard that name and trembled? Legend was he was unstoppable. Legend was that no one had ever seen his face, but that he had always left his calling card. "Please don't kill me... I'll stay away from Piper from now on. I'll consider the guy untouchable from here on out. An'... an' I'll spread the word to all the other families. Nobody touches Kit Piper or his family. Just don't kill me. Don't kill me." His words trailed off and turned into loud sobbing.
"Pathetic."
The crime boss didn't respond, but continued to shake in fear and terror. Here was a man he couldn't bribe or control, who held Gambini's life in his hands. Griffin sighed loudly.
"Very well."
Gambini perked up.
"I am not without sympathy. I was so looking forward to killing you, but I there is little honor in putting to death a quivering worm like yourself. Luckily for you, my contract allows me to negotiate the terms and conditions, which, of course, for you are non-negotiable. I will, of course, require the entire sum of money you extorted from Mr. Piper..."
"Yes, of course! Anything! I'll double that amount just to get him off my back!"
"...as well as a further sum for the loss of Diana Piper and for the trauma that the children have been put through. On top of that, there is my own fee, which need not come directly out of Mr. Piper's pocketbook. The condition for all this would be your oath never to put in harm's way Piper or any of his family or friends. Consider them all untouchable."
"Done..." Gambini said. "I'll have the money brought in right away, wherever you want it."
"Right. Right. Well, then. It's been a pleasure. I trust you won't give us any further problems, then? After all, I happen to know that you have three sons currently studying in a boarding school in Switzerland. It would be regrettable if something should happen to them."
"No..." Gambini croaked weakly. "No, don't harm them."
"What do you take me for, Mr. Gambini? I am hardly a child-killer. Unless, of course, circumstances require me to do so. The final stipulation of my contract with Mr. Piper is that, should he or his children be harmed by anyone in your organization in any way, your family will be the first to feel my wrath. Have I made myself clear?"
"Yes... yes, you have."
"Very well, then. Now that we've gotten the 'messy' parts over with, let's complete our transaction..."