Bound

42. A Match Lit, A House Burnt!

His lips twisted in distaste.

“Could you please help me, sir?”,the poor man asked him in a gruff voice.

“If you can afford me”,the man muttered under his breath, his eyes sweeping across the empty streets as he checked his watch once again.

His time for waiting was up.

His boss had specifically instructed him to not linger around the streets for more time than necessary.

‘Dangerous times’, he’d called it.

“Jim would be so disappointed”, he thought internally as he straightened and began walking back towards where he knew his boss was waiting to receive the special client.

The light thumps of another pair of footsteps sounded in his ear and he turned around, his eyes turning dark when he saw the poor looking man following him.

Without any qualms, he removed a small pistol from his jacket, aiming it at the man.

“Listen here yeh punk, I'm not in a mood to be very forgiving right now. Run back to the shit hole yeh crawled out from, yeh hear me?”, he spat at the man.

He hoped that the other man heeded his warning. He had killed people for lesser offenses.

But the poor man did not move even an inch. Instead he pulled something out of a side pocket of his worn out coat and the man's eyes widened when he opened his palms, spreading out an exquisite necklace to catch the light, a chain of glinting diamonds with a big blue sapphire in the middle.

He leaned in closely, lowering his gun, eyes gleaming with delight.

“Precious”, he murmured under his breath before he straightened up. "The job?",he questioned stoically.

"Is infinitely beyond your area of expertise", the poor man replied calmly, pocketing the necklace again."Now be a faithful dog and lead me to your master"

“Who are you?”, the broker questioned suspiciously, shocked by the sudden one eighty degree change in the attitude of the man before him.

And for the first time since their meeting, the shabbily dressed man raised his head and looked him in the eye, surprising the broker with the coldness and authority shining in them.

He watched carefully as the man removed his left hand glove, flashing his palm, a tattoo visible on the underside of his wrist.

The broker's eyes widened minutely. This was the sign he'd been ordered to watch out for.

“Of course”, he replied, regaining his professional air. “Follow me”

_______
“You took your time coming here”, a cold voice rang out condescendingly. “I thought that you were caught Matteo. Did I say it right? Or do you prefer to be called by your Irish name, now that your true loyalty is out in the open?”

Matteo's jaw clenched as he levelled the old man walking towards him with a dark look.

“I took a great risk, Jimmy. Do not patronize me”, he warned lowly, wanting nothing more than to wipe the scorn off the old man's face.

“With how calm you seem to be I believe you haven't received the news yet”, Jimmy spoke in a flat, impassive voice.

“What news?”

“Oklahoma, Philadelphia, Detroit, New York and all its surrounding cities are undergoing a complete lockdown as we speak. Phone lines are being jammed, all transport routes are steadily being stopped”, he informed robotically. “Chicago is already on high alert. New York will soon be teeming with not only the Sullivan forces but the Romero and the Valentini soldiers as well”