Corruption Calls

Chapter One

No, nothing good starts in a getaway car.

Another day, another dollar. Four words, repeating over and over again in the mind of a particular young woman, as she dashed around on creaking wooden planks. Her mother's shop had become nothing more than a dismal eyesore that was lucky if even one person stepped foot inside, only to take a glance at the dusty shelves before leaving. The sound of jangling keys pulled the woman out of her trance. She caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the glass pane as she approached the door to leave. Her winter coat draped over her forearm. Her auburn hair styled in loose curls to her shoulders. The name tag pinned to her blouse, decorated in a collection of scratches and chips, displayed the name 'Natasha'. Twice the bell above the door rang out into the night. Once as the door opened and once as it closed again, after Natasha had stepped out into the cold. Her breath formed into mist as she muttered to herself, Russian words falling from her lips. Her hands unstable as she inserted the key into the door, locking it for the night.

The darkness was interrupted by a dim light that revealed a lonely and worn black sedan that had been lined up against the curb of the pavement. The car was a birthday gift to Natasha from her father, prior to his passing. She was 16 at the time and had only been in the US for 7 years before to that. Her family had immigrated from Stalingrad to escape from the German invasion, hoping for a better life in the states, settling in Brooklyn. They lived well initially, with Natasha's parents earning a decent living while she attended school. That was until 1950, when Natasha's father suffered from and was defeated by Pneumonia that Autumn. Since his death, the two that remained struggled to stay afloat financially. At times, Natasha could swear she saw visions of the moment her father presented the car to her when she looked at it. As she got in and went to start the engine, her body jumped and became tense when she heard a deafening bang. Her breaths became heavy. Her eyes darted to the rear-view mirror. She felt her heart race as she saw a dark figure charging towards her vehicle at speed. She frantically reached for the door in an attempt to escape. Just as she felt the cold metal of the door handle, the passenger door was yanked open, the car rocking as the figure jumped in, slamming the door shut.

A sharp gasp of air entered Natasha's lungs. She froze once again, feeling a solid mass touch her temple.

"Get me out of here. Now." A stern voice ordered. "Or I'll blow your brains out and do it myself."

Natasha's mind raced, causing her to fumble around in the dark, starting the car. She quickly pulled away from the curb and drove ahead, gripping the wheel tightly with both hands. She felt the cold glare of the man in the seat beside her, pressuring her until she almost forgot how to drive. It felt like a lifetime until the man took his eyes off her to look behind through the rear window. Just as he did so, bright headlights appeared around the corner, gaining speed.

"Doesn't this car go any faster, goddamit?! Go, go, go!" The man boomed, startling the young woman to slam her foot down on the acceleration, making the street seem like a blur around them.

Natasha focussed on the road ahead, ice and snow attempting to hide the markings, the car sliding over it. Her body jumped once again as she heard a series of gunshots, fired from the weapon in the man's hands as he hung out of the passenger window, shooting blindly at the car behind. Bullets were exchanged between the vehicles, both of which warning battle scars in the form of holes. Just as they began to catch up, one of the mysterious man's shots were sent to the front tyre, causing the enemy to veer into the barrier, smashing through into the river below.

"Tillary Street, Downtown. I'll tell you when to stop." The man ordered once again, his gaze returning to the woman beside him. Only a nod from Natasha indicated notice of his order, her eyes fixed ahead of her, her hands joined to the wheel. She began to slow down, only returning to the legal limit when there was no question of the change.

Finally, an order to stop. Natasha controlled the vehicle to a halt at the side of the road. She didn't move. Her heart pounded in fear. Only then did she finally think about her mother awaiting her at home.

"Wait here." The man ordered, getting out of the car. When he shut the door and disappeared into a bar, Natasha felt her body ease, her hands releasing the wheel to turn off the engine. She looked around, taking in her surroundings. She tried to process what had just happened, but couldn't come up with a reasonable explanation. Who was this man? Who was in the other car chasing after them?

Fifteen minutes passed before Natasha noticed the man return from the bar. He reached into his jacket, sending Natasha's mind into a panic again. She frantically reached for the keys, failing to start the car, muttering Russian curses as he continued to approach her. Then he pulled out an envelope. Natasha stopped at once and looked at the man, his features clear in the streetlight above. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Bloodstains on the collar of his suit. Her eyes travelled down to his hands.

"This will cover repairs for your car. Hell, it's probably enough to buy you a new one. Anything better than this piece of junk." The man explained, handing Natasha the envelope of cash. "Boss knows what you've done tonight. Helping us out 'n' all. And the Boss doesn't forget his friends."

Hesitantly, Natasha reached up and took the envelope, her eyes returning to his. There was silence between them as they analysed each other.

"Oh. He also says that if you need any more work to earn some more of that," The man continued, nodding to the cash in her hands, "You'll know where to find us. Now go home. If anyone asks about the damage to your car, you tell them you lost control on the ice and some loose rocks from the road hit you. Got it?"

Natasha simply nodded and with that, she finally started the car again and drove home for the night. Does anyone really recover from a night like that?