Wait For Me

Chapter 5 - A Proper Introduction

Anthony waited until he was sure Henroin was asleep, which meant he didn't leave until eleven. Before he left, he slipped into his father's office and rummaged through the drawers, looking for the information he needed. A map of all the gin joints in the city that his father owned and ran. Finally, tucked away in a filing cabinet, was a map of the area, with the joints marked with little X's. Anthony did his best to commit it to memory. It helped that he had done multiple runs to his father's clubs, but he didn't know all of them. However, he didn't dare take the map with him for fear of his father finding out, or of the probability that he couldn't return it in time. He carefully but quickly returned the map how he found it, being extra cautious to make sure nothing got ripped, or crinkled, and then he booked it out of the office before he could get caught.

It was a bitterly cold night out, not that Anthony was surprised, but he did wish he had thought to bring his gloves. He could barely feel his fingers as he meandered down the sidewalk. He didn't have much of a game plan, other than doing his best to avoid the speakeasies his father owned. He didn't want to risk one of the managers seeing him and telling his father. He definitely didn't need that. That left about ten in the city that he could potentially check out.

****

Two and a half hours later and Anthony was no closer to finding the mystery man, and he was dejectedly beginning to think the saxophonist was indeed in one of his father's clubs. For a moment he was tempted to search in those places, but then he came to his senses. He just couldn't risk it. He got about halfway done with the joints, which left five to go, but he would have to check those out some other time. He was frozen to the bone, and he couldn't feel his fingers. It was time to go home.

In the meantime, though, maybe he could ask around on one of his runs, see if anyone saw or heard anything about where the man frequents. He would have to be careful of course, but it seemed like it might be a better way to go about doing this. After all, he didn't deliver to just his father's clubs.

Anthony was so lost in thought that he didn't see the mugger until he was roughly shoved up against the wall.

"What the f-"

A grubby hand clapped over his mouth, momentarily silencing him. "Gimme yer money," a stale, acrid breath hissed in his ear.

Anthony rolled his eyes and feigned being weak just for a second. Then, he reached his dominant hand to the inside of the mugger's arm and shoved against it as hard as he could, before bringing a knee up to the man's groin.

When the man doubled over with a groan, Anthony swept his foot around the back of the man's leg and knocked him off balance to the dirty street below. Anthony rubbed a hand down his face. He couldn't believe he hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings. Dammit, this mystery man really got under his skin in one half hour conversation and Anthony didn't like it. Not if it made his head this clouded. And he couldn't even find the damn guy again. He kicked the mugger in his frustration, and for good measure, before drawing his gun.

The mugger's eyes widened, and he held up two shaky hands. "W-Wait," he begged.

"Ya don't mess with the Mafia," Anthony spat. All in a matter of seconds he had the gun raised, aimed and took the shot. The bullet went clean into his skull and the mugger slumped to the ground. Anthony took quick inventory of his surroundings and then slowly put the gun back into his coat.

****

Alastor wouldn't lie. As he sunk the sharp end of his blade into the woman's neck, he admitted to himself that this was boring. He longed for the excitement of chasing down Mafia members again, and not only killing them, but also their intended targets. He missed the thrill and the challenge of hunting both down, and the shocked look on their faces as he thoroughly murdered them.