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My gun is drawn. I’m ready to shoot. I just have to pick the target. This shouldn’t be a difficult choice. I have a duty to perform. But to whom?
Let me back up for you, and tell you the whole story.
It started about a year ago when I was sent undercover by the FBI. I was a good agent. Hell, I was a great agent. I even had a letter of commendation signed by J. Edgar Hoover herself. I was sent to join the Antionetti crime family and take them down. Simple enough. Now let me bring you to last month.
We were in a warehouse. It was me, Jerry Nichols, and the boss’ nephew, Carmine. And, let me tell you, Carmine was one of the most insufferable people I’d ever met. Anyway, we were buying several cases of bathtub gin from some Canadians, and they decided to change the price on us. Mr. Antionetti said they might do this, but the profit margin was still going to be good, and he sent us with extra money for this very situation. But, Carmine, in all his glorious stupidity decided to pull a gun on the head Canuck! Three other hockey playing, maple syrup chugging, lumberjacks snowmobile jockeys pull theirs. Of course, I had mine out too, and I fired at Carmine before he made the situation worse. This, of course, caused Carmine to squeeze off a bullet at me before hitting the ground, which hit me in the shoulder. Needless to say, the deal fell through. At least I got one less psychopathic idiot walking the streets.
But, back to my tale . . . Jerry took me to the hospital making up some story about accidentally shooting me while cleaning his gun. He even explained everything to Mr. Antionetti. Idiot or not, the “boss” loved his nephew. Jerry stayed with me every day at the hospital. The wound was worse than I thought, and I needed blood. He happened to be a match, and gave me a pint. I told him I owed him one or two pints for that. It turns out the Jerry was a pretty stand-up guy. He was a good family man, loved his wife and kids. It was a shame he was probably going to end up spending the rest of his life in Alcatraz for that little job he pulled taking Stefano Peroni and three of his bodyguards out of the way. A real shame. He even made me godfather to his daughter!
The word came down that a major deal was going to go through. Mr. Antionetti still needed his product and rumor was that some of Capone’s boys were going to be making a shipment to him. Antionetti was even going to be there in person, and so was Jerry. This was going to be it! The FBI would be able to take down Antionetti, and possibly help the boys in Chicago take down Capone. I gave all the details to Special Agent Thompson, and we planned the bust.
Mr. Antionetti said I could stay at home at let my shoulder heal. He said he didn’t need any extra help. So, they headed off to the meeting place without me. Of course, I had to make sure everything went right for my superiors at the FBI, so I followed behind without them knowing. I finally got to the abandoned house they were meeting at and I could hear the gunshots from outside. I ran in, gun drawn. To get inside, I had to step over three dead agents, and two dead gunmen of Antionetti’s. Mr. Antionetti was sitting on the floor holding his belly, blood seeping over his hands. Every other agent and gunman was lying on the ground. This went worse than anything anyone could have feared. Standing in the middle of the room were Jerry and Agent Thompson in a Mexican standoff; my boss, country, and oath, and my new best friend, staring down gun barrels.
My gun is drawn. I’m ready to shoot. I just have to pick the target. This shouldn’t be a difficult choice. I have a duty to perform. But to whom?
!!BANG!! |
