Wow. The last few days have been a whirlwind on the world stage. Speaking of messages, President Zelensky is an inspiration and he’s managing to get his message out. Too bad the psychotic marcissist in the Kremlin isn’t getting the message. Anyway, the rest of the world may be watching closely but life does go on and maybe the best messabe we can deliver is that life does indeed go on. Today is Wednesday. So…words! Today’s prompt is “The Message.” In today’s new snippet, some of the bad guys have gathered. The rest is mostly self-explanatory. I think.
JD “Danny Boy” Moore was not a patient man nor was he a man who believed in wasting time.. He glared at the two cops now standing before his desk after being ushered into his office by George Garland. George offered his boss a short nod as he backed out. The plainclothes detective looked rumpled and grumpy. The second stood straight, so spit-and-polished Danny Boy considered tossing his coffee cup at the man. He refrained.
“Why are we here?” The detective’s lip curled into a snarl as he asked the question.
Danny Boy eyed the uniform who, according to the brass and braid on his uniform was the superior officer. “You didn’t tell ’im?”
“I thought you might want to see the video first.” He slipped a CD disk out of his pocket. With a flick of his wrist, the CD in his hand sailed like a miniature Frisbee to land directly in front of the man whose personality dominated the room.
Picking it up with fat, awkward fingers, Danny Boy shoved the disk into his computer. When nothing happened, the police captain slid around behind the desk, appropriated the keyboard and tapped some keys. The screen background blurred as the video—obviously recorded from a security camera—began to play. Danny Boy watched the sleek BMW pull up to and then inside one of his warehouses down on the Boston docks. The cop hit another key and the video fast-forwarded until the same car departed.
Danny Boy glanced up. “So?”
“That’s Tommy Gallagher’s car. The night he was murdered.”
The detective jerked and stepped toward the desk. “What the fuck?”
“Where did you fucking get this?” The accusation in Danny Boy’s voice was apparent as he jabbed a stubby finger against the computer monitor.
The cop didn’t flinch. “Theodore Vasile.” He retreated to the opposite side of the desk. “Well, technically, one of his stooges.”
“Cesar?” Danny Boy glowered at the cop, who shrugged.
“Probably not. I was in line at a coffee shop. I felt something in my hip pocket. Turned around and some guy was walking away. I reached around and found the disk slipped into my pocket.”
“You get a look at him?”
“No. And the fucker is a hellava pickpocket. S’far as I know, that’s not one of Cesar’s talents but who knows?”
Bragg slapped his fists on the desk and bent forward trying to get a look at the monitor. “You got evidence of Tommy’s car somewhere the night he got whacked?”
Danny Boy pointed at the detective. “This video doesn’t mean a thing, Bragg. Your job is to get me an O’Connor charged with Gallagher’s murder.” His smile didn’t reach his piggy eyes. “Vasile is not your concern.” He glanced at the captain. “We’re done.”
The two officers exited, the captain holding the detective’s arm and jerking him along while ordering him to “Shut the fuck up, Bragg.”
George stepped back inside as soon as the two men cleared the door. He didn’t speak, waiting for Danny Boy to give his orders. The voices of the cops echoed for a few more moments and then disappeared as they left the executive suite of Moore Enterprises.
“Did you know?”
George shook his head. “It’s our system. We think he hacked in a patch so he could watch and record.”
“So he could have all sorts of shit on us.”
As much as he wanted to study the high-shine on the toes of his shoes, George didn’t look away.
“Maybe. I have some geeks working on building firewalls and finding out when the breach occurred.”
The desk chair creaked ominously as Danny Boy leaned back. He grabbed the cigar that squatted on the edge of a heavy glass ashtray and puffed on it. Taking it from his mouth, he glared at the gray ashed on the tip. George appeared beside him, lighter in hand. Once Danny Boy had the cigar smoking nicely, he waved it around sending trails of smoke into the air.
“Vasile didn’t get the message last time.”
George nodded. “Evidently not.” He kept his real thoughts to himself. The Ukrainian thug had bailed on his country at the first sign of trouble and remained on the Ukraine Most Wanted List for a variety of crimes. The tool nibbled around the edges of Danny Boy’s empire but knew the line that, if crosed, meant he’d pull back a bloody stump. This didn’t feel like Vasily but there wasn’t another player in town with the balls.
Danny Boy puffed on his cigar, head back, eyes closed as he contemplated the state of his world. He was tired of the little fish trying to take over the pond. Taking out one of the O’Connors would put Brian O’Hara in his place. He’d already taken steps to weed out some of the other weak links. He opened his eyes, took a deep pull on the cigar and puffed out a series of perfectly formed smoke rings. Then, he sat up and stared at his second in command. “Time to send a stronger message.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
I can gaurantee that Vasile will, indeed, get the message.* I just wish the egomaniac puss would come to the same end. On a more hopeful note, writers, what message are you sending in your WIP? And readers, what message would you send to the world?