I tuned out Don's voice as I watched the multiple angles of security video. The attacker had come off the roof, that was for sure, and attacked with a lot of ferocity. I was slightly impressed by what I saw, but there was a lot that worried me.
"This idiot's going to get himself killed," I said as I saw him stagger under a shot to the back of the head from one of the last 88's. "He's brave, I'll give him that, but he's going to get himself killed."
I reached over and switched off the TV when the story shifted to news in Washington, turning around. "I understand your enthusiasm Tabby, it's good to see that someone is trying to do something positive for their neighborhood, but taking on a mass of Eighty Eights while swinging around nothing but a couple of aluminum batons is stupid even when you're as good as I am. And in what I saw, he's not that good.”
"How would you have done it?" Tabby asked, curious. Sophie just hid her smile, knowing that while her best friend knew the results of my nighttime actions, she didn't know exactly the details, and for good reason.
"For one, I wouldn't have just dropped down with nothing but two sticks," I replied, twirling a bid of eggplant around on my plate. "I probably would have started with either a smoke grenade or a flash-bang if I didn't mind blowing out the windows on that Circle K. Anyone that was still up after that I might have taken out with the sticks, but honestly I wouldn't have dropped from the roof. There's too much of a chance of twisting your ankle or blowing out your knee, at which point you're pretty well screwed."
I didn't tell her the unabashed truth, which is that if I wanted to take down a gang like the 88's, I wouldn't have done it with non-lethal force either. I'd dealt with them when I worked for Sal Giordano, and they were one of the roughest gangs in Filmore. I probably would have gone in with both Glocks pulled if I had to, or maybe a old fashioned charge of a pickup truck through the herd. Better yet, an AK-47. As the saying goes, when you absolutely positively have to kill every last motherfucker in the room, accept no substitutions.
"In any case, I hope he doesn't get himself killed," Tabby said, scraping the last of her breakfast onto her spoon and swallowing quickly. "Now, hate to eat and run, but I have a lunch meeting with a City Councilman today, and I should probably get some work done beforehand. I'll call you guys if anything comes up."
"Oh, which councilman?" Sophie asked with a grin. "It wouldn't happen to be the cute Pat McCaffery you were telling us about last night?"
"Yeah," Tabby said sheepishly. "I know, I know, he's got Confederation tats, but you said yourself Mark, he wasn't active that you knew about any longer."
"Still, keep your eyes and ears open and your Spidey senses sharp," I warned her. "If you have any concerns, give me a call."
Like a whirlwind, Tabby was out the door, and we heard the rumble as her Mercedes started up and pulled out of the garage. Sophie looked at me with bemusement. "Okay, big brother, before you start, remember who you are. I married a former hitman, correct?"
Sometimes, I can't win.
Chapter 6
Tabby
The deliveryman got to the office with his steaming containers of Chinese food right at twelve twenty five, refusing the tip I offered him. As the steam rose out of the bag and made my stomach rumble, he grinned and waved his hands, backing away slowly while displaying almost unnaturally white and shiny teeth.
"Any delivery here is a pleasure," he said, referring to the investment MJT had made in his family's restaurant. In fact, the deliveryman, a nice nineteen year old kid named James, had been able to start taking night classes at community college because of it, since it allowed his family to hire another delivery person for night shift as well as expand their services. "If it wasn't that my Dad knew it would be a waste of time, he'd not even charge you guys."
"Still James, you came all the way down here in less than twenty minutes," I said. "Come on, at least a few bucks?"
"Nope," James replied, stepping back and towards the door. I knew better than to follow him, one time he'd actually ran down the stairs to avoid the tip. I wouldn't give up though, I'm kind of hard-headed like that. "But if you really want, next time I'll send my sister. Lin's the sort who'd pocket a five without telling Dad."
James disappeared out the door while Vanessa sat at her desk, amused. "You do that at least once a week," she said when the door closed. "I thought you'd have learned by now."
"Come on Vanessa. I'm getting paid an obscene amount of money to run this place, the least I can do is help out the kid," I replied. "Gratitude or not, he deserves an extra little bit for risking the lunchtime traffic to get the shrimp here while it's still hot and crispy. He's on a fifty cc scooter for God's sake."
"You never know how people will react to generosity," Vanessa replied. "You remember the story about the CEO who raised all his employees pay to at least seventy thousand a year as a gesture of income equality or something? It made the national news a while back, a software company I think."