Silver Bullet Special

I found Don Gustov in the usual place, at his high-end watering house on the East Side. I was roughly ushered into his presence by several of his goons. He looked at me while eating linguini with his bare hands, licking it off his fingers in disgusting fashion.

To say Don Gustov was not a small man was like saying the Titanic was not a sailboat. He was a massive man in richly-tailored clothes, flanked by several large, muscular men in suits that seemed barely large enough to hold their broad-shouldered bodies.

“Williams says you’re going to kill me,” Don Gustov said, nodding to one of his men. Williams is a tall man with short buzzed blond hair. He wore sunglasses and looked like the mob’s answer to the Secret Service.

Which he very well might be.

“That’s correct,” I said. The entire room laughed. 

Don Gustov gestured to Williams.

“Make sure this joker is clean,” he said.

“I did, boss,” Williams said.

“Well, do it again,” Don Gustov insisted.

Large hands patted my disheveled clothes. I sighed and checked my watch. Only twenty minutes to go until nightfall. 

I had to keep this piece of filth talking for twenty minutes.

I frankly didn’t know how his men standed to watch him eat. I hope he paid them well.

Not that it would really matter, in the end.

“What you want to kill me?” Don Gustov said.

“I don’t think we have enough time to go through that list,” I replied. I heard a couple chuckle. Everyone laughed except Don Gustov, who regarded me sullenly.

“Humor me,” he said.

“Someone paid me to,” I replied.

“Who?” he asked. I rolled my eyes.

“I can make you talk,” he said, nodding to Williams.

I needed to move this along. and I’d been through the whole torture plot before. If I no longer amused Gustov, he’d chuck me out into the alleyway and I’d be no closer to my goal. I had to keep him talking.

“Jenny Franccini,” I said. “You’re behind on your child support by about six years.”

“Jenny Francinni. Haven’t heard that name in a while. Boy she was a pistol back in the day,” Gustov said. He greedily slurped linguini into his lips. “Shame she is fat now.’

I bristled a bit. My client, Jenny Francini, was not fat. She was barely pleasantly plump. However, she was struggling.

“She’s working six jobs to make ends meet,” I said.

“Still no excuse,” the massively obese man said. “A woman should look out for her figure above all else. She let herself go, so I had to let her go.”

“As I understand it, you let her go long before that, probably around the time you found out she was pregnant,” I said. Don Gustov grimaced at me.

“You got some nerve, pal,” he said. “Talking to me like that. I could kill you where you stand.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” I said. “I’m the one who is going to kill you. Try to keep up.”

Ten minutes.

Don Gustov stared at me for a second. Then he broke out into a raucous laugh.

“How much is Fat Jenny paying you?” he asked. “It must be a lot.”

I hesitated but I knew I had to keep him talking.

“Five grand,” I said. That made Don Gustov’s raucous laughter intensify beyond measure.

“Just give five gees?” the mobster said. “That’s pocket change to me.” 

He went for his checkbook. “What’s your name, man? I’ll pay you double that, hell, triple that just for the entertainment.”

“You can pay me all you like,” I said. “I’m still going to kill you.”

“Sure thing, pal,” Don Gustov never looked up from his checkbook. “Who do I make the check out to?” 

“Frank Talbot,” I said.

The whole check-writing took another few minutes. I could tell Don Gustov was making a big show of paying me off. He wanted to look regal and magnanimous. I almost pitied him.

Almost.

I had less than five minutes to go. With this filth, however, that could be an eternity.

He handed me the check. I looked it over. There were several more zeroes than I had anticipated. I whistled.

“Impressive, huh,” Don Gustov said.

“I’lll consider it a bonus for killing you,” I said. Don Gustov chuckled.

“And I thought we were making progress. Why do you want to kill me?” he said. “It sounds like a hard job. A lot of risks. A paltry reward.”

“I only kill people who deserve it,” I said. “Usually I can find someone who will pay a little to make that happen. It keeps my other side in check. Besides, I gotta eat.”

“Your other side?” Don Gustov gave a dismissive wave of one of his fingers. “Sounds like you need a shrink. I can recommend mine.”

“How much do you pay that poor SOB?” I said as my timer started to ding on my watch. “You couldn’t pay me enough to hear you talk on a weekly basis.”

Don Gustov’s face dropped into something between a sneer and a grimace.

“You know, I’ve run out of rope for you, Frank,” Don said. “I have you every chance to get out of this alive. Maybe after I’m done with you, I’ll pay a visit to that fatty Jenny and her little brat. They won’t be bothering me no more, I can tell you that.

“No, sir. I gave you just enough rope to hang yourself, Donnie,” I replied. “And you did just that. Now you’re out of time. Like I said, I have to eat.”

In the VIP’s one window, I saw the night fall. A light shined through the other side, but it wasn’t from any street light.

It was the light of the moon.

I began to twitch and convulse. Williams and his men immediately began to open fire. They weren’t dummies. They knew what my purpose was here and they weren’t taking chances. 

One bullet nailed me in the forehead. Another clipped my shoulder and two more penetrated my heart. They all hurt, but not as much as what was already happening to my body. My teeth extended into a fang as hair began to sprout all over my body.

Bullets were nothing compared to the beast.

***

I woke up covered in Williams’ blood. Or maybe it was Don Gustov’s. More likely, it was everyone in that room. 

In any case, Don Gustov was dead. I considered cashing the check, but decided that Jenny could use it as back payments for all of Don Gustov’s delinquent child support. 

I left the VIP room, tipping the bar owner for the mess and left before the cops were called. I rang Jenny and told her the job was done.

In thirty one days, I’d need to find another client, and someone else as equally deserving of death as Don Gustov.

The beast was hungry that way.