Team 66
Matthew Ryan Fischer
It had been a long time since 66 had been in charge of a group,
but it had also been a long time since he had been in a fist fight with a
police officer. Von’s men were still Von’s men, but 66 was in charge of two
teams now. One was focused on finding the shotgun assassin that 66 knew to be a
fake 22 running around with a real 22 tattoo. This other team was kicking in
doors, trying to figure out who told what to who and why things had fallen
apart at Club B.
A lifetime ago, their numbers meant something. The Dragons were
the ones with important numbers now. 66 had yet to meet an Agent in the flesh,
but he had seen two that night at Club B and he could see they were men ready
to throw down and win a fight. In his younger days he’d like to think he could
have handled himself in a battle with them, but younger days were long and
longer ago and thing things we like to tell ourselves isn’t always the way
things really were. 47 kept his calm demeanor. He enjoyed the hunt and having two
missions was exhilarating and satisfying. Whether they found their answers or
not, 47 just enjoyed kicking in the doors.
Rumor was that Von got called downtown for a meeting and took Kimi
and a few top men with him. Rumors didn’t say who Von met, only that he got the
call and was in no position to ignore it. The families or The Claw or both,
thought 66. Von had enjoyed a certain amount of freedom, paying small taxes at
the docks to bring shipments in, and paying a small fee for the streets his employees
used to sell their drugs. 66 imagined that the price had just gone up.
66 thought about what 47 had told him when they first hooked up,
how this drug was supposed to build an army, an army that could rival the
families and take over the town. So far, he hadn’t seen a single hint of that
coming war, but 66 wasn’t in the inner circle. But now he’d get to see what sort
of man Von really was. A man willing to lose money in the short term, but speed
up his own agenda could be respected and followed. A man willing to fight to
soon would get them all killed. A man willing to swallow his pride and back down
wouldn’t be long in charge. Especially if he was still in that wheelchair.
It had been months since his battles in Bandung. He was feeling
better every day. The bruises gone and the stitches out. He was back to working
out full force and once again winning his fair share of sparring matches with
47.
Word arrived that one of the officers at the club was Interpol and
had worked with the Chinese on one of their anti-pirate task forces. He had
gone for 47. Maybe because of their connected past on opposite sides of the
law. It might not have had anything to do with 22 or the gunman. But now that
officer had seen them both. He knew their numbers, which was pretty much the
entire game. Any camera, any photo, video, informant, could now lead the police
right to them. 47 had been cavalier before, but wasn’t so indifferent now. He
wanted to kill the cop. 66 suggested they get out of town. But 47 won that argument.
For the moment. It had been a few years but 66 had worked overseas and could do
it again. It might take a little more planning now to get out of the country,
but it could be done, with or without 47.
The time was coming soon to make a few decisions and plans of
his own.
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