Chapter I - The Whisper

Money had to be made one way or another, the life of a mafioso wasn’t cheap afterall. Hugh had a ton of expenses, all non tax-deductible. From bribing the local judges and police captains to making campaign ‘donations’ to prominent politicians, you had to have people in your pocket. After all, a misstep without those cards in your sleeve, and you could be in the State Penitentiary for a very long sentence, or worse yet, sleeping six feet under in your local cemetery.

He was a New Yorker, born and raised, through and through. Yet he didn’t want to ruffle too many feathers in his home town when it came to bigger jobs. It made sense. People who were more powerful than him had their fingers everywhere. And a misstep there, too, could also result in him sleeping the eternal slumber, this time though, not in his local cemetery, but with the fishes. 

He still had connections with his old Army buddies. Some lived peaceful lives now, as most dreamed. Others struggled often. And few, like Hugh, decided that a life of crime was the ticket out to a better life for them and their families. 

Micky was one of them, few. The Sniper's Dream, he was called affectionately by Hugh, lived through the worst of D-Day, Operation Market Garden, and the Battle of Bulge, along with Hugh. And they survived. They were brothers. And while Hugh decided to return back to New York, back to his family, the Sniper’s Dream decided to venture off west. He hoped to build his riches in post-war America, and he thought Los Angeles would have been the place to go. He wasn’t wrong.

They mailed each other every so often, but Micky knew about the Laundromat Hugh built for his Ma, and it was a way to contact Hugh if Micky ever needed it. And Micky now needed it. He had a potential score, but he needed people. People that weren’t from Los Angeles. So he flew to New York, dropped by Margaret's Laundromat, and had a chat with him.

Chapter II - The Plan

The sun was long set when Hugh met up with Cuboyd in Bricktown Boogey Nightclub. He met with him a couple times on different jobs as both were up and coming men in their respective cities. Friends may have been a bit of an exaggeration for if it came to it, as if the order was given by those who usually give those orders, one would find the other on the wrong end of a barrel, unknown to both who would be in the wrong end of that barrel though. But they were acquaintances, and that was good enough for the world they chose to live in. 

Hugh was sipping his glass of Bourbon as his eyes caught him, he offered an upward nod. Cuboyd knew Hugh was coming, and he had a job that Cuboyd may have been interested in. He approached Hugh, returning the nod. Hugh said loudly, unafraid of anyone near, for the sound of the music made it impossible for anyone else to listen in to the conversation. 

“I got a tip –” Hugh started. “–a stash house in Downtown Los Angeles. Word is that it is loaded with Coke and Cash. Enough to set us up for a while if we play our cards right. Interested?”

Cuboyd raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his drink; “Who's running it?”

“Some no-name outfit that is part of some no-name mid-level syndicate. Eh – not directly, but yeah. They use the place as a hub. Cut it down, distribute it to the low level dealers. Security is tad tight, but not impenetrable. Interested in hearing more?” Hugh asked, watching Cuboyd. 

Cuboyd nodded once more, adding; “Let's go up to the Office so you can tell me more.”

So the duo went up. The music was still loud, but not unbearable as it was on the dance floor. And it was private. A decent place to have a chat. 

Hugh unfolded the piece of paper that he carried in the inside of his jacket pocket, revealing the rough sketch drawn by Micky. It showed the neighborhood, the mark, and the houses and shops around the neighborhood. 

“The Stash House looks like any two-story building around the block. Though it has reinforced door and frame, barred windows. At least five guys inside. At all times. And sometimes a lot more. All armed.” Hugh spoke after a brief pause; “Foot traffic is heavy during the day –” Hugh continued, pointing around some of the streets in the sketched up map. “– but starts quieting down towards the night. And the guards change happens around 2AM. That is the window we can strike.”

Cuboyd listened intently, examining the sketch, noting the escape routes and potential blind spots. It would be an interesting score for him too, so they agreed to fly to Los Angeles the next day to have on the ground reconnaissance before they decided on anything else.

For the next few days the trio did what they came for. Hugh, Cuboyd, and Micky, conducted the recon. They observed their mark from a number of vantage points. They noted the comings and goings of the guards, the low-level dealers, and the locals. The potential escape routes. Where they could be ambushed. If shit hit the fan, where they could fight and where they could retreat to fight a bit more. And where they could lay low for a bit before flying out.

The trio devised a plan.

There were going to be three sets up cars, all clean with no wants or warrants, stationed at three different escape routes. A fourth car would be parked somewhere near, weapons in its trunk if shit hit the fan, and they needed some heavy weaponry.

Goal, however, was to be as quiet as possible. In and out, no shooting, no police. Phone lines had to be cut to make sure reinforcements couldn’t be called. Pick the lock of the reinforced door around 1AM, when the guards inside are tired, ready to be relieved by the next shift. Take down those who are inside, without gunfire. Cuboyd then would take the safe as Hugh collected the Coke. Micky outside, making sure the coast is clear, and ready to rush in if the need arose. 

They were ready for tomorrow.

And tomorrow came. The clock struck 01:00.

Chapter III - Game Time

The clock struck 01:00 on the button, it was met with the phone lines being cut to kill any form of communication while the trio were inside the building. This along with the muffled sound of the lock on the reinforced door hitting the ground ensured there was no turning back now. Mickey kept watch outside while Hugh and Cuboyd proceeded to the outside of the first room where there were two guards perched on wooden seats next to each other but facing opposite sides of the room. Cuboyd peeked into the room and noticed one of the guards looked like he was drifting off, unfortunately he was the one facing the wall. The more lively, yet clearly exhausted, of the two guards was reading a newspaper while obviously keeping a lookout ahead. Cuboyd turned to Hugh, they had to think quickly and cleverly on their feet. Cuboyd noticed the smallest of stones in the hallway and signalled to Hugh and Cuboyd that he would drop it down just next to the opposite side of the doorway, not loud enough to wake the drifting guard, but enough to get the attention of the other one. Down the stone went. The guard lowered his newspaper to have a look but after a few moments of squinting his eyes, he brushed it off and raised the newspaper again but this time completely covering his face and then some. Fucker. Cuboyd had an idea but it would need to be done quickly and there would need to be some severe luck involved. He pointed to Hugh's boots and told him to take them off just like he was doing, Hugh agreed and done the same. They were both down to their socks and the pair slowly glided along the floor. Cuboyd walked in the direction of the guard with the newspaper and signalled for Hugh to knock out the other guard so that he would be sleeping for real this time. Cuboyd pulled down the newspaper and slugged the guard on the side of his head with enough force to knock him out. Hugh thought about putting the guard in a headlock but thought it best to strike the guard on the head with the butt of his gun, so far so good. The pair collected boots as they proceeded to tie them up the as well as the knocked out guards before moving on down the hallway. 

The next problem made itself evident as there were three other guards sitting in a room playing a make-do game of paper toss with seemingly old newspaper. The pair noticed a few pieces out in the hall which they would have to avoid as not to make any noise and alert the other guards. How were they going to do this? The quietly conversed about going back out to get Mickey but then they left themselves open if back up arrived. 

"Go out and pick the fucking paper up ya schmuck, the boss could turn up any time and if he finds you two idiots have turned the place into your own personal trash can then he'll cut you up and make sure you end up in one too." A deep voice bellowed from within the kitchen.

Eureka. Hugh and Cuboyd waited on the young guard to come out. When he did, Hugh knocked him out, again with the butt of his gun and the lifeless body dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. The pair instantly aimed their guns at the two other guards in the kitchen whilst hoping their intel was correct and there wasn't any more than five guards in the safehouse. They hadn't heard any other commotion or noise so their confidence rose with that. Cuboyd and Hugh stared at the men. The guard who was built like a freight train was clearly the one calling the shots. He growled at Cuboyd and Hugh.

"Toss your guns on the floor now, don't think for a second we won't use this time to paint the fucking walls red." Hugh demanded with a calm but serious tone. 

"Here, take mine, I don't get paid enough to be a fucking hero." The younger guard said, much to the dismay of the bigger guard, who let out a sigh while still maintaining eye contact with Hugh. 

"Hey beanstalk, that means you too. Toss your piece over to us now." Cuboyd relayed the demand. 

The big guard threw the piece over, they were now both within touching distance. Hugh leaned over to pick up the guns when the big guard jumped out the seat and threw a knife at Cuboyd. The handle end striking him in his eyebrow. He knocked the gun out of Hugh's hand and shouted to the younger security guard to pick up the guns and give them to him, he was clearly in shock as his jaw was on the floor and every bit of colour drained from his face. Frozen with fear, he was rooted to his chair. Cuboyd knew trying to go for his head wouldn't do anything so he chop-blocked the back of his leg and worked the big man down. While on one knee, he grabbed Cuboyd's throat and aimed to burst his windpipe. Hugh regained composure and used two of the guns in his possession to clatter both sides of the big mans skull at the same time. It clearly worked as the big guard's eyes rolled to the back of his head before being dealt a final blow by the base of Cuboyd's gun. The big guard was down and the pair turned to the younger guard before laying into him without a second thought leaving him unconscious. 

"You good?" Hugh asked while trying to get his breath back.

"Yeah I'm good, what a fucking throw that was, lucky it's just a gash above my eye." Cuboyd acknowledged.

The pair quickly carried out surveillance of the rest of the apartment before finding what they needed. The pair picked up what they came for before heading to the front door. The guards were lined, tied, blindfolded and gagged. The bigger guard still hadn't moved so slouching him around was a mission in itself. 

The team thought they were in the clear before Mickey ran upstairs to grab them.

"We need to leave right fucking now." Mickey pleaded with eyes like dinner plates.