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    The Contract Killer
    The Contract Killer
    The Contract Killer
    Ebook221 pages3 hours

    The Contract Killer

    By Mike Ramon

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    About this ebook

    John Condon has a contract to take out three targets, all members of a family. A seasoned killer, this job should be just like any other, but when he comes to the point of no return, he has doubts--who are these people? Who wants them dead? Meanwhile he meets and falls for a waitress with a troubled past, but he must hide who he really is from her.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMike Ramon
    Release dateOct 21, 2012
    ISBN9781301826056
    The Contract Killer
    Author

    Mike Ramon

    Born and bred in the Midwest.

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      Book preview

      The Contract Killer - Mike Ramon

      THE CONTRACT KILLER

      by Mike Ramon

      © 2012 M. Ramon

      (Revisions © 2022)

      Smashwords Edition

      This work is published under a Creative Commons license (Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0). To view this license:

      http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/

      If you wish to contact the author you can send e-mail to:

      storywryter@hotmail.com

      Web addresses where you can find my work:

      http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/mramon

      Table of Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-One

      Chapter Twenty-Two

      Chapter Twenty-Three

      Chapter Twenty-Four

      Chapter Twenty-Five

      Chapter Twenty-Six

      Chapter Twenty-Seven

      Chapter Twenty-Eight

      Chapter Twenty-Nine

      Chapter Thirty

      Chapter Thirty-One

      Chapter Thirty-Two

      Chapter Thirty-Three

      Chapter Thirty-Four

      Chapter Thirty-Five

      Chapter Thirty-Six

      Chapter One

      John Condon unconsciously rubbed the stone in his left front pocket. It was something he often did without even realizing it. He ran his fingers along its smooth blue and pink surface; the stone was about the size of a nickel. He watched as a pretty young woman at the other end of the café leaned in close to the man sitting opposite her and laughed at something he said. Condon scanned the place as he sipped his hot spiced tea; he thought it a sin to drink tea cold. An old couple was sitting at a table in the corner near the front window pushing food around on their plates, and a middle-aged man busily typing on his laptop, his coffee sitting untouched on his table. The rest of the tables were unoccupied.

      Condon checked his watch. It was 1:25. Caliendo was supposed to be there at one o'clock. He considered calling the man's cell but decided to give him ten more minutes before calling to see what the hold-up was. He took one last sip, draining the last of the tea from his cup. He set the empty cup down on the saucer with a quiet clink. Almost immediately the perky young waitress was at his side.

      Can I get you another cup, sir? she asked.

      She had a smile on her face, a smile that Condon knew was meaningless, just something she'd learned to do in her job to keep the customers happy.

      No, thanks, he said. I'm just waiting on an associate of mine. He should be here soon; maybe then.

      All right then. Just let me know if you need me.

      With that, she moved with a graceful quickness to the young couple's table to flash that same empty smile. Condon could see the quiet city street through the big window at the front of the café. A few cars went by. He realized he was playing with the stone in his pocket and made himself stop. He clasped both of his hands on the table, tilting his left wrist slightly so he could read the time again. It was 1:29.

      He reached into his jacket pocket and took out his cellphone, checking to make sure that it was on and not on silent mode. Satisfied that nothing was wrong with the phone he put it back in his pocket and looked back to the street. He saw Bob Caliendo approaching from the other side of the street. The squat little man looked at least 15 years older than his byline photo in the Herald. He was nearly bald on top and he wore thick, black-framed eyeglasses; he was carrying a small briefcase. As the reporter entered the café Condon motioned to him. Caliendo nodded, walked over to the table with a noticeable limp, and took a seat opposite him, setting the briefcase on the ground next to his chair.

      It's nice to finally meet you, Mister Vick, Caliendo said, stretching a hand out over the table.

      Same here, Condon responded.

      He took the other man's hand and gave it a brief, brisk shake. The waitress, seeing that his lunchmate had finally arrived, made a repeat appearance.

      Can I get you gentlemen anything?

      I'll just take a coffee, deary, Caliendo said. Lots of cream, but no sugar.

      The waitress nodded her head and looked at Condon.

      Another cup of tea, please, he said.

      All right, I'll be back in a jiffy, she said before darting away.

      Seems like a nice girl, Caliendo remarked.

      Condon reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and took out a small, black, rectangular device.

      Do you mind if I record this for later reference? he asked.

      Oh, go right ahead, Caliendo replied.

      Condon pressed a button on the side of the device and it whirred to life. He placed it on the table between them. Caliendo looked around the café, a slight look of disappointment on his face.

      This place is nearly dead, the reporter said. I would kill to live in Paris, or a little Italian village, hanging out all day in a café filled with strange and interesting people.

      Sounds like the life.

      Doesn't it, though? Caliendo said with a wistful sigh.

      Shall we start? Condon asked.

      Yes, yes. I'm sorry, but what was your first name again?

      Dan. Dan Vick.

      Go right ahead, Caliendo said as he shrugged off his coat and draped it over the back of his chair.

      "As I explained on the phone when we talked last week, I first became interested in this story when I read your piece in the Herald in March of last year. I believe the headline of that article was 'Alderman Burke, of the twenty-second ward, implicated in crooked dealings'."

      Yes, that was the first one.

      In that story and the ones that followed, you said that it was an anonymous source who leaked the documents to you showing ties between Alderman Burke and a construction company owned by reputed mobster Anthony Camigliano.

      Yes, this is all well known, the small man replied.

      The waitress appeared and set two cups on the table, coffee for Caliendo and tea for the man calling himself Dan Vick.

      Will that be all? she asked.

      Yes, Caliendo answered for both of them. Thank you, darling.

      All right, then, she said and was gone.

      Caliendo cradled his cup in his hands and blew gently on the creamy-brown coffee. Condon wasted no time in taking a sip of his tea; it was still too hot, and it burned his tongue a little.

      Go on, Caliendo urged.

      Condon cleared his throat.

      Logic tells me that this anonymous source must work for either Burke or Camigliano.

      He waited for some response from Caliendo, but the reporter just kept blowing gently on his coffee, not even bothering to look up.

      I would also hazard to put forward that it seems more likely that the leak came from Burke's camp. The informant had access to confidential documents linking the two men by way of an outfit called Scarlucci Brothers Construction. What kind of mobster keeps incriminating paperwork lying around? Sounds to me like the mistake a low rung politician, who is out of his depth, would make.

      Caliendo looked up then. A sly little smile spread across his lips.

      I like you, Dan. You've got a brain in that head of yours, and that's something I can say of few writers I have met.

      He paused, contemplating.

      I'll just say that the scenario that you laid out does make some sense, the man continued. You can take that to mean whatever you want it to mean.

      Condon darted his eyes to the recording device, and then back to Caliendo. With his coffee now cooled to his satisfaction, the reporter took his first sip, smacking his lips as he swallowed.

      Was that when they came to you with a payoff? Condon asked.

      No, that came after the second story I wrote, in the following week's paper. It was a mustachioed gentleman, a real shady-looking character. He was like something out of a cartoon, the kind of guy you expect to see leaned up against a wall, half in shadow, flipping a coin while chewing on a toothpick.

      Caliendo laughed at the image he had described.

      How much did he offer you?

      "Fifty grand...but that's been widely reported already. Are you sure you read all of my articles?

      Yes, I'm sure I have. It must've slipped my mind. So, this guy offered you fifty thousand dollars, and you turned it down?

      Of course I did. What else could I have done? I have a duty to my readers, Mister Vick. To my readers, and this city.

      What did he say when you shot down the bribe? Condon asked.

      What was it he said…ah, yes. He said, 'by the silver or by the copper, the choice is yours'. That's when I told him to get the hell out of my office. You should've seen the look on his face. He couldn't believe it.

      Condon took another sip of hot tea, using a napkin to dab the corners of his mouth.

      Then they tried to kill you, Condon said matter-of-factly.

      Yes. The would-be assassin confronted me as I walked out of my home one morning. Two shots hit me, one in the arm and one in the hip. For a while there I wasn't sure if I'd get full use of my right arm back, but I did. All I've got is the limp you might've noticed when I walked in here.

      Just a slight limp; barely noticeable, Condon assured him.

      Caliendo slurped up another sip of coffee.

      By then the investigations were just hitting their stride, both at the state and federal levels, Caliendo continued. From then on I had police protection wherever I went.

      Did the police try to find out who your source was?

      Yeah, and they leaned on me pretty hard. They tried threatening me with a charge of hindering prosecution, but I stood fast. We live in America, Mister Vick, not Red China. I refused to divulge my source. Eventually, they found enough evidence that they didn't need my source anymore, and they eased up on me.

      And Burke and Camigliano both got sent up.

      Correct. You know, I wrote a letter to Camigliano after he went away. It just read: 'I win.'

      Condon laughed.

      That must have made him mighty angry, he said.

      What the hell can that bastard do to me? He's in prison and I'm a free man. A respected man, Mister Vick.

      And I do respect you. Not many men would have taken the chances you took. They would have taken the silver.

      Ah, but everything turned out all right in the end. That's what's important, right?

      Right, Condon answered, finishing off his cup of tea.

      There's something I would like to ask, if you don't mind, Caliendo said.

      Shoot.

      Do you already have a publishing deal for this book that you're writing, or are you writing it on spec?

      I don't have a deal yet. Is that a problem?

      No, of course not. I was curious, that's all.

      Condon took a peek at his watch. It was now 1:54.

      You didn't happen to bring some of your notes along, did you? Condon asked.

      Right here, Caliendo responded, tapping the briefcase on the floor. As many as I felt comfortable handing over, anyway. I told you on the phone, Mister Vick: book or no book, I can't divulge my source to you.

      I understand.

      Caliendo slid the briefcase over to Condon, who lifted the small case onto his lap and opened it. Inside there was a jumble of papers; some of the notes were typed, and others handwritten. He closed the case and snapped the latches shut.

      When should I return them by? Condon asked.

      Those notes are copies; you can keep them. The briefcase, too. It's just an old thing I found in the back of my closet.

      Thanks, Condon said.

      Don't mention it.

      Caliendo finished his cup of coffee and wiped his lips with a paper napkin.

      Is there anything else? he asked Condon.

      No, you've been great. Really. Thanks for the notes.

      No problem at all. Just remember to thank me in your book

      I'll do just that. If there's anything else I'll get in touch. You already have my number.

      Condon picked up the recorder and hit the button to stop the tape, then slipped it back into his jacket pocket.

      I'll get the check, he said.

      I would like to argue with you, Caliendo said, but I won't.

      They both chuckled at that. After paying the check in cash Condon escorted Caliendo to his car. It wasn't until they were walking side by side that Condon realized just how short the other man was compared to his own six-foot frame. Bob Caliendo stood no more than five-foot-two. The reporter plunked down into the seat of his car with a painful wince.

      Are you okay? Condon asked.

      I'll be fine. Some days my hip just acts up. I'll see you again, my friend.

      After Caliendo had gotten both legs in Condon closed the door gently for him.

      Take care, Condon said, giving a wave.

      Condon started walking away from the small blue car; looking in all directions, he saw no one around. As the car's engine came to life Condon ran back to the driver's side window and knocked on it.

      One more thing, he said, raising his voice to be heard through the glass.

      The window rolled down with a soft, electric whine.

      What is it? Caliendo asked.

      Condon's left hand disappeared beneath his jacket.

      I just want you to know that I really do admire you, Mister Caliendo.

      Yes, I believe you said that already. Are we done here, son?

      Condon said nothing for a moment. Then:

      Yeah; we're done.

      In the blink of an eye, Condon's hand reappeared, holding in it a small pistol fitted with a silencer. The shot caught Bob Caliendo square in the forehead, and a ragged red hole blossomed there as he let out a last exhalation of breath. Condon held the barrel of the gun three inches from the side of the man's head and pulled the trigger again. The reporter slumped over to his right. Condon slipped his gun into its holster. He fished a handkerchief out of a jacket pocket and reached into the car, pushing Caliendo further over on his side so that he was less visible from the street and the sidewalk. He then reached over and turned off the ignition. John Condon slipped the handkerchief back into his pocket and took another look around. There was no one on the street. The job done, he walked away. He had a flight booked for four o'clock.

      Chapter Two

      John Condon could see the large Victorian-style house looming up out of the trees like something out of an old horror movie. As he took the last turn on the long private road that led to the house he saw only two cars parked in the large circular driveway, though he knew there would be more vehicles in the back. Nielsen was a cautious man, and he would never be comfortable with less than a dozen bodyguards on the premises at all times.

      As he parked his vehicle and cut the engine the front door opened, and the big man known only as Thud stood glaring at him from the doorway. Condon knew not to take it personally; Thud didn't like anybody, and he turned that menacing stare on anyone and everyone he came into contact with.

      Condon stepped out of his car and shut the door lightly, with the briefcase that Caliendo had given him the day before clutched in one hand. He made his way to the front door of the big house. To an observer, it might have looked like he was getting ready to slam face-first into the massive bulk of the bigger man, but Condon knew better. When Condon was just a step away from running into him Thud turned aside with a quickness surprising for his size and followed Condon with his cold eyes as he crossed the threshold. Thud closed the door then and led Condon down first one hall, and then

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