Falling Glass by Adrian McKinty Read Free Book Online Page B

Marcetti. “You see, Andrew, I’m only the advance guard. If you kill me other men will come, wherever you are. Before your eyes they will castrate your son and rape your wife and hurt them until you are begging for their deaths. You need to be made a lesson of. Your story will be legend. It’s worth it to them, losing the half mill for that.”
    Marcetti started crying.
    Killian got up, walked to him, put his hand on the barrel of the shotgun and lifted it gently from him. He broke it open and took out the shells. Luke had whipped out his Saturday Night Special but Killian shook his head and Luke put the gun away.
    “I don’t have any options, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t know what I can do,” Marcetti sobbed.
    Killian let him cry for a bit, went to the window, stared out at the street. He did a standing ten-count and still with his back turned said: “When did you buy your house?”
    “What?”
    “When did you buy this house?”
    “2005.”
    “What’s the equity?”
    “I don’t know, we haven’t—”
    “You don’t know? Guy with your problems, give me a fucking break, you know every penny you’ve got or can get.”
    “Things around here haven’t been moving.”
    “What’s the base?”
    “One, one point two.”
    “And you bought for?”
    “Six hundred and fifty – one hundred and fifty down from me, another hundred down from my parents and a hundred thousand no-interest loan from my bank.”
    Killian turned to look at him. “Did you refinance? The truth.”
    “No. Not yet.”
    “How much do you owe now?”
    “Three.”
    “Who signed the mortgage?”
    “I did.”
    “Need your wife’s signature?”
    “Yes.”
    Killian nodded. “Sell me your house right now and you and your family will live. Otherwise, well, you know…Otherwise you’re all dead.”
    Killian walked to him, stuck out his hand. Marcetti looked at the big meat-axe paw in front him. He wiped the tears from his face and after a moment’s hesitation he shook it.
    “Good, now go to the kitchen, make us some coffee. Mine’s black, no sugar, a wee bit of water in the cup.”
    Marcetti went to the kitchen, stunned, like a car-crash survivor.
    Killian called Sean, got patched through.
    “Yeah?”
    “Sean, can you get lawyers up from Boston, maybe through Charlie Bingham?”
    “Why?”
    “We’re buying the mark’s house.”
    Sean didn’t blanche. “We’re transferring the escrow to Bridget?”
    “You catch on quick. She and her better half will need it today. Can you do it?”
    “It’s a holiday, but I’ll figure something out. We make anything on the house?”
    “Fifty K.”
    “That plus our commission. Profitable twenty-four hours. Sure you don’t want to come back to work for me full-time? A dozen scores like this and you’re laughing me bucko.”
    “I’m hanging up, Sean. We need your boys pronto. M.F. will give you the address.”
    “You tell me.”
    “We don’t leave that spilled over the airwaves.”
    “Okay, I’ll ask him…So, how was it working in the mines after all this time?”
    “Bye, Sean.”
    Marcetti came into the living room with three cups of coffee. He wasn’t crying anymore. He was a gambler, he liked the high stakes aspect of all of this. He was digging on the drama.
    Killian took a cup, gave one to Luke.
    “I wanted cream,” Luke started until he saw Killian’s eyes.
    “Okay, here’s the deal, Andrew. We’re going to buy your house from you for nine hundred thousand dollars. That’s a price we can sell it at immediately. We’ll pay off Michael and give you fifty thousand in cash to tide you over.”
    Marcetti’s face was ashen, distant, but still he nodded.
    “What’ll I tell my wife? What can I tell her?”
    Killian put his hands on Marcetti’s shoulders. He placed his own cool forehead on Marcetti’s sweating furnace of a forehead.
    “I’ll speak to her,” Killian said.
    Marcetti closed his eyes. Tears again. They were close now. Like brothers.