Revenant

Chapter 17

I was back at my apartment, contemplating my next course of action, an activity that apparently involved staring at little pieces of paper for hours on end.

Here's the thing - I was pissed off. Someone, Diavolo more than likely, was using me in some capacity. Keeping me in the dark.

And I don't like that sort of thing.

False or incomplete information was the sort of thing that got guys in my profession killed. I wanted Diavolo to understand how pissed off I was, perhaps help him arrive at the conclusion that doing this sort of thing wasn't a good idea.

I didn't exactly know how I was going to do that and continue living in Baltimore.

What I did know is that I wouldn't be completing the contract he'd offered me in its current form. Renegotiating a contract is a big no-no in this business, but if it turned out that the contract didn't accurately reflect the reality of the situation, all bets were off. If you're being paid fifteen grand to ice someone you're told is a small-time businessman, and it turns out that the guy you're hired to take out is actually a multi-billionaire with his own security detail and a mansion that was once featured in 'Impregnable Fortresses Weekly', well, it's obvious that you don't have to go through with it. You can terminate a completely inaccurate agreement with a clear conscience. Sometimes, if you're particularly angry, you can even terminate the guy who offered the contract to you in the first place.

However, if you're going to be doing something that commits you or that you can't take back, it's worth thinking the ramifications over a few dozen times. Angelo Diavolo wasn't someone you crossed casually if you wanted to continue living. He was an impressive figure in the underground community, with lots of resources, and could no doubt make my life uncomfortable if he had half a mind to. Sure I was pissed off, but was I that pissed off?

Staring at some of the new information I had before me, it was becoming clear that I was that pissed off. I picked up the sheet of paper containing the business license documentation I'd dug up.

Martin Willenskraft, owner of Willenskraft and Sons Pianos. That woman in the building had mentioned the name 'Martin', I was certain of it, which very likely meant that she was Ruth, or Mrs. Martin Willenskraft. Proud mother of two boys, one of whom was named Lucas.

The other was named Steven.

I mean, his mother . . . still living in town. And it wasn't in the file.

I'd found the information with barely any trouble at all, which managed to piss me off even more. I hadn't figured Diavolo as the sort who would screw me around on a job, and so I hadn't even bothered checking. The history of the whole family was right there, on the internet, out in the open, clear as day.

Martin had passed away from a heart attack nearly eight years ago, leaving most of his savings and property to his wife, and leaving the business to his two sons, Lucas and Steven. Lucas quickly bought out his brother's share and took over the family business. Judging from the dates of Stevie's arrest records, he'd blown most of his share on drugs. From there it was easy to piece together - Stevie gets mixed up in the wrong crowd, eventually hooks up with Diavolo's organization, develops some drug-related smarts, works his way up, and becomes an underboss. Or not. After all, there was a chance Diavolo had lied to me about Steven's underboss status as well.

As for the rest of the family, well, Ruth appeared to have fairly advanced coping issues when it came to her husband's death, if her medical records were any indication. I mean, she'd mistaken several gunshots for the sound of her long-dead husband knocking at the door . . . though, thank god she had. Lucas's story, however, was the one that attracted my attention.