Rumrunner

Chapter Five: Repercussions

Giulio climbed out of the car, took the case from Argus' white-knuckled grip, and pushed him towards the front seat. A few moments later, Argus was sitting beside Aldo in the passenger's seat, and Giulio sat in the back clutching the case containing the gun like his life depended on it.

"What's going on?" asked Argus as Aldo pulled out into traffic. He was proud to notice that he only clenched the seat in terror for a second.

"Nothing," replied Giulio quickly.

Aldo sighed dramatically. "We may as well share with the kid, since he's one of us, now."

There was something about Aldo's tone that made Argus feel as though he was in the middle of a rather complex, probably lethal practical joke. He hated practical jokes.

"We had to get well away from there before all the pigs came out of the wood works," Aldo explained as he pulled the car to a stop at an intersection.

"But why would the, uh, pigs be coming out the woodwork?" Argus said, a feeling of dread that had nothing to do with Aldo pulling out a little too close to a fruit truck settling in his stomach.

"They tend to get riled up over the death of one of their own," said Giulio. "Kind of like we do, actually."

"One of their own?" Argus's voice hit a note that he hadn't heard from his own throat since the age of thirteen. "There was another hit tonight?"

Giulio grinned widely at him. "Not to my knowledge. You know anything about any other hits, Aldo?"

"I haven't heard anything either. Imagine that."

"But-but-" Argus was panicked. "You said he was a stoolpigeon!"

"Did I?" Aldo asked. "I mean that he'd talked to a stoolpigeon."

"I killed a policeman?"

"You did it very nicely," replied Giulio. "I mean, listen to the sirens. It took them a good five minutes to call the law, at least."

"But they'll be looking for me!" Argus exclaimed, hunkering down in his seat. He had killed the Muggle equivalent of an Auror. Dear lord. Only a week amongst them and he'd already turned heathen, just like his mother had always said. Though he wasn't exactly sure that being a heathen was the terrible thing she'd always implied... Still, that did nothing to erase the feeling that he might be finding out what the Muggle equivalent of Azkaban was sometime soon. And with everything else they did being so much more bloodthirsty, he definitely did not want to find out what their prison was like first hand.

"See, that's the brilliant part," said Aldo. "They won't."

"You just told me I killed a cop! Of course they're gonna be looking for me!" Argus exclaimed. "Anyone could have seen down that alley!"

"True, but would they have recognized you?" Aldo said, much too calmly for Argus's liking.

"They might have," Argus replied slowly.

"How? You've only been in the country a week. You aren't registered anywhere, and you have no criminal record." Giulio spoke this time, in a slow, patient tone, as if he was talking to a particularly stupid child.

"They-they could describe me," Argus said. He knew that he looked like a madman as he threw his hands up, trying to impress upon the two men the magnitude of the situation.

"As what? A medium build, brown haired man with no distinguishing markings whatsoever and wearing completely nondescript clothing?" Aldo said. "There are a million men who look just like you across the state."

"It's foolproof," said Giulio. "Unless..."

Argus, who had been relaxing as the truth of Aldo's statements comforted him, sat up sharply. "Unless what?"

"Unless we become displeased with your service," replied Aldo.

"Then what?" Curiosity killed the cat.

"Then, the gun that Giulio is so kindly holding onto will find its way onto the police sergeant's desk before you know what's happening."

"But... but if they don't know who I am..."

"They will when you're delivered, hog tied and in a potato sack, to the same station as the gun with a nice little note attached to your forehead. Then, it'll be a small matter of comparing your fingerprints to the gun..."

"Then you've earned yourself a lifetime stay at Michigan's finest accommodations."

The smiles on Aldo and Giulio's faces were nearly ghoulish in the dark car. Argus swallowed, and realized just how deep of a hole he had managed to dig for himself in the few days he had been free of his mother.

**

Argus ended up sitting at the table in Aldo's kitchen later that night, drowning his sorrows in the scotch Aldo had provided for him.

"Hi."

Argus jumped at the sound, knocking over his glass. "Shit," he cursed, pushing his chair away from the table as the scotch formed a puddle on the otherwise clean tabletop. He looked over to see Gisella laughing at him.

"You're graceful tonight," she said, getting a towel from the counter and wiping up the mess. She picked the glass up, and, noticing there was still some scotch left, lifted it and swallowed the last swig with a waste-not want-not shrug.

"I'm never graceful," replied Argus honestly. "I just seem to be even less graceful around you."

As soon as the words came out his mouth, he knew that he needed to lay off the scotch. What kind of idiot said things like that to beautiful angels?

Gisella giggled, and looked coyly away as she said, "You're real sweet. It's too bad you got yourself involved in all this," a wave of her hand, "stuff."

"You're involved in all this stuff, too," Argus replied. He watched as Gisella went from happy and amused to completely sombre.

"Not by choice," she said. "I couldn't do anything to prevent Aldo from getting mixed up in all that."

"How did he get involved in all this?" Argus asked, intrigued. Aldo seemed like he'd been born into the gangster lifestyle. He honestly couldn't imagine the man as anything else. Giulio, either, for that matter.

"Well, our parents died, and left him an orphan with a little sister to watch after. He had a job running errands for some big cheese, and it turned out that big cheese was very involved in the sort of activity that Aldo does now. He was drawn in by the money, and he never managed to get back out. I don't think he even wants out." Gisella spoke quietly. The only betrayal of her feelings about her brother's actions was the way she clenched the towel with white knuckles.

Argus didn't quite know what to do, so he reached over and patted Gisella's hand. His mother probably would have said something like there, there or do you want some tea? to her, but Argus refused. Instead, he stared at the wall, and said, "I killed a man tonight."

He glanced over to see Gisella drop the towel, and stare at him. "W-what?"

"Tonight. I shot a man in the head," Argus said blithely. He allowed his bitterness and exhaustion to leak back into his voice as he continued. "I'd never killed anyone before, you know. Never even really considered it."

"I didn't mean to get you involved--"

"Don't apologize. Whatever you do, don't try to take back what happened, even with words," Argus said with conviction. "Because you know what I learned tonight?"

"What?" Gisella asked. She looked mildly frightened at Argus' abrupt change of mood.

"I learned that I could care less about that man's life. I learned that splatters of blood and brain and piss won't make me sorry. I learned that I finally have a life outside of my mother's garden." Argus leaned close to Gisella, who looked like she wanted to bolt. "And I learned that riding in a car isn't as terrifying as it looks."

Gisella choked back a surprised bark of laughter, and said, "I should really go to bed. It's late."

"It's not that late," said Argus. He was surprised to find himself stroking her hand, and was even more surprised when she didn't pull away.

"You're cute, but you know I've already got somebody," Gisella said. She leaned forward, and kissed his cheek. "You should get some rest. Sleep off whatever you've been drinking all night."

"I should," he murmured back to her.

She rose, and with one last glance at him with those blue eyes that he was so deeply entrenched in, left him alone with his empty glass.

**

Aldo said, " I have another job, if you're interested. It's not quite as clean as the last one, but I think you can handle it."

Argus just nodded.

It was two days later when he found himself standing in the basement of Giulio's townhouse, staring at the bag Giulio had shoved in his hands. It was similar to the doctor-style brown leather bag that he had used for the Pigman hit, but its contents were markedly different.

"What exactly am I supposed to do?" he asked, prodding at the contents of the bag.

"You're gonna get some information out of a gentleman for us," replied Giulio.

"With this?"

"Of course." Giulio's grin was a little too barbaric for Argus's comfort.

"Err...okay. What exactly am I supposed to find out?"

"His boss's name, and the name of the last whore he saw."

"Oh. Of course. Why me?"

"Because," Giulio said slowly, as if explaining the concept to a disobedient dog, "you are new. Therefore you have whatever reputation we tell this man. And if you prove what we say to be true..."

"Then I get to be the scary inquisitor to all of this man's buddies?" Argus said, seeing the plan.

"Exactly. Now that we've got that settled... I'm gonna go fetch the gentleman, and you can just- wait here, and set it all up. I'd put something on the floor, so the carpet doesn't get ruined." With that, Giulio left.

Argus looked back in the bag, his mind flying about how he was supposed to put its contents to use. Sure, they had told him this one was going to be messier than the last hit, but he hadn't thought that torture was going to be a part of it. He pulled out the manacles that were in the bag, and looked under them. All that was left was an ordinary claw hammer.

How was he going to manage this?

He obediently hung the manacles on the hook that was deeply embedded in the basement wall, and found an old tarp flung off in one corner that he laid across the carpeted floor. He studiously ignored the smears on the tarp. Why did Giulio even have carpet in this basement, other than just because he could? Argus sat down in a plain wooden chair that was at a small, battered card table that was in the corner of the basement where he had set the bag down. He took a steadying breath, and pulled out his instruments.

He was looking closely at the hammer, wondering if all the dark spots were rust, or if some were dried blood when the door swung open. Giulio and a massive man Argus hadn't seen before came down the stairs, carrying a struggling gunnysack between them. They dumped it on the tarp, and Giulio kicked it a couple good times.

"I'm Treetop," said the huge man. He had to be damn near six and a half feet tall. Argus felt dwarfed just standing beside him. They watched Giulio put the gunnysack into its place, until it stopped moving, even after being poked with the barrel of Giulio's forty-four.

Argus' hands twitched around the hammer as Treetop and Giulio pulled the gunnysack's unconscious contents out, and shoved him against the wall, face out. He carefully set the tool down as Giulio clasped the manacles around the unconscious man's wrists with quick, practiced movements, and made sure they were locked properly.

"He's coming back around," Giulio announced a few minutes later. He slapped the chained man's cheeks, and said cheerfully, "Wake up, Sonny."

"Gahrg?" said the chained man.

"It's your lucky day!" exclaimed Treetop.

The chained man didn't look as though he would agree with that statement. If his tattered, bloody appearance was anything to go by, this had probably been the least lucky day he'd had in quite a while. Hopefully, anyway, for his dry cleaner's sake.

"Yeah, Sonny," Giulio announced. "We just got a new partner in our association whose specialty is in extracting information. And I guarantee, he will extract any and all information that you have."

Sonny made a teeny sound. He was extremely pale, and looked as though he might pass out at any moment. Argus leaned back in his chair, surveying the man coldly. He hadn't lost any sleep over the last job he had done, and he was determined that he wouldn't over this one either. He picked up the claw hammer, and gave a few experimental swings with it, noticing that Sonny's eyes were glued to it. He gave the chained man his best sadistic grin, and waved the hammer a little in his direction. Sonny turned a shade paler.

"Hey, Manacle! Get over here and meet your... client," Treetop called. Manacle? Was that supposed to be him? He guessed so, being as there wasn't anyone else in the room. He got up and walked over to the two standing men.

"Yeah?" His gruff voice actually sounded in place in this dark basement. The claw hammer was still held loosely in one hand. In the gloom, it looked as though Sonny had wet himself.

"We will leave you to your business now," Treetop announced. A sardonic wave of fingers. "Have fun!"

The two experienced gangsters turned and left the room, just like that. No ceremony, no further conversations, no instructions. Just the knowledge that he had to force two names out of this miscreant that was hanging on the wall.

His somewhat tattered sense of morality told him that torturing a man for money probably wasn't the best thing to do. His mother probably wouldn't approve, and protest that it was below his station in life to do grunt work. He found that the idea, beyond that, didn't really bother him much at all. In fact, the look of fear in Sonny's eyes was rather exhilarating.

He approached the man, and brushed the hammer against his face. "Tell me what I need to know."

Sonny looked as though he really, really wanted to, but shook his head instead.

"Your boss's name, and the last whore you saw. Two names, and I'll call my associates back in here to get you," Argus said. He couldn't quite believe that he was using Giulio as the nice guy. Sonny shook his head again, looking more reluctant than ever.

"Fine," Argus replied. He reared the hammer back, and let it fly.

Sonny screamed.

The hammer hit the block wall inches away from Sonny's face with a dull thud.

The hot stench of urine met Argus' nose, and he knew for sure that Sonny had wet himself this time. He backed away, and sat down in a hopefully calm manner at the rickety card table. He took a few slow breaths, steadying himself.

For the briefest second, he'd wanted to sink the hammer into Sonny, not the wall.

He calmed himself down, doing his best to keep a stiff upper lip. It wouldn't do to show weakness to the man he was intimidating, now would it? He looked down at the hammer, and caressed the smooth handle for a moment. The feel of the wood beneath his fingers was reassuring. Probably this was how true wizards felt about their wand, he mused.

The thought startled him, and he quickly stood up. This was no time for dillydallying around. He refused to feel inadequate while he was working.

Sonny must have seen the look in his eyes as he crossed the room. He began blubbering, and tears that had been leaking out of his eyes for a few minutes now began to flow more, creating wet paths down his dirty, bloody face. Argus only had to raise the wicked looking hammer before Sonny broke.

Sonny started talking.