Donnie Martel was in trouble. He’d realized he was the minute he set foot in Gino Patelli’s office. He just hadn’t realized how bad it would be.
Take out Chaz Bowen? Not a boss on Donnie Martel’s level. He didn’t have the resources. He didn’t have the men. Chaz was the only hit man on his roster. Martel wasn’t one of the big boys who ordered a hit every other week. He was pretty near the bottom of the totem pole, and it was never brought home to him more forcibly than at times like these.
The order had come straight from Gino Patelli’s lips, which made it super important, something he had to put his best man on. Unfortunately, his best man was Chaz Bowen.
Donnie went back to his office, always a mistake coming straight from Gino Patelli’s. The contrast was just too striking.
Donnie’s office was in a section of downtown L.A. that looked like it was just about to be torn down and renovated. He parked on a side street, pushed the downstairs door open, and walked up the steps. His office was on the second floor over a sushi parlor. He’d been there so long he barely noticed the smell of fish.
Sophia was at the front desk reading a gossip magazine. Any other day he wouldn’t have cared. Today it pissed him off.
“Don’t you have work?” he snapped.
“Nothing pressing. I’m going to finish my coffee and tackle the bills.”
Sophia was Donnie’s entire office staff. She functioned as his secretary, receptionist, switchboard operator, typist, file clerk, and bookkeeper. She could also take dictation, but it never happened. He’d have her sit on his lap to do it, and then he’d forget what he wanted to say.
“Any calls?”
“Chaz Bowen. He sounded pissed.”
“I’ll bet. Hold my calls.”
Sophia frowned. “You want me to put them on hold, or—”
“Tell them I’m out of the office.”
Donnie pushed his way into his inner office and closed the door.
Donnie’s desk was a mess of papers, none particularly important. He had a small protection racket on the south side, with half a dozen collectors and a couple of enforcers who were hardly ever needed. After the first visit, clients paid right up.
Donnie sat down at his desk and put his head in his hands. Half of his muscle wasn’t as good as Chaz. The other half was Chaz.
Should he bring in someone from outside? Not likely. That was apt to cause more problems than it solved.
Donnie sighed heavily. He got up, lifted down a picture from the wall, and spun the dial of his safe. It had been a while, and he missed the combination the first time. He concentrated and got it on the second try.
Donnie opened the safe and took out a gun. It was an automatic with a full magazine and a round in the chamber. He took out a silencer and screwed it onto the barrel of the gun just to be sure. It fit.
Donnie locked the safe. He went over to the closet, pushed the coats and jackets aside, and found an old shoulder holster that hadn’t been used in years. He used to wear it to impress people. After a while he realized it didn’t make him look like a crime boss, just a low-level thug.
Donnie stuck the gun in the holster. The barrel was too long with the silencer. He unscrewed the silencer, and slipped it in his jacket pocket. He adjusted his jacket and tie and went out.