The Ex-Celeb

Mission 4: Fighting the Battle

Yuri Malkovich never saw it coming. Through our connections in the media and our newly acquired connections in the police we began attacking him from all sides. 

In less than a week, Malkovich was behind bars, preparing to stand trial for his crimes. Unfortunately, Brandon was still unable to tie Malkovich to the murder of his fiancée. Without a direct confession from the criminal himself, there was little that we could do.

But I hadn't completely run out of options. I still had one plan up my sleeve. It was dangerous, but my life wouldn't really be at risk. For the first time in my life, I genuinely felt for someone. I didn't understand his pain, but I was willing to fight for it, no matter the cost.

As we had predicted, Malkovich was able to get out of the detention center. Luck was on our side however, the prosecution made certain that he was put under tight surveillance, and he had been banned from leaving the country. He couldn't even leave the city. Personally, I thought that was worse than being stuck in jail. 

I parked my bike and walked across the street to a bar that Malkovich frequented. Since his trial, he'd been there almost every single day. Most likely to assure his escorts that he wasn't going to do anything... out of line. 

I entered and sat down at the bar. The bartender came over. "What'll it be?"

"Whatever's on tap." I said and scanned the room.

Malkovich was seated in the back with several of his goons. I couldn't hear what they were discussing, but I recognized enough of the faces to make an educated guess. 

I waited for nearly half an hour, keeping an eye on the group as they spoke. I wasn't quite ready to make my presence known, but I could tell from his clear change in behavior that Malkovich had seen me.

I finished my drink and stood, approaching Malkovich. Stopping directly in front of him. "Hey Yuri."

He glowered at me. "I assume you are behind this?"

I grabbed an empty chair and straddled in. "Not what I wanted. But the jobs getting done."

"I'm surprised you don't even try to conceal it."

"No need to." I reached into my pocket and dropped a recorder onto the table. "And while we're being so open and honest, would you mind telling me how you killed Mary Clark?"

Malkovich fixated on the recorder; his eye started to twitch. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

I sighed. "I already know you did it, I know why you did it. But I'd really like to know how you did it. And where you dumped her body."

"I don't like repeating myself. I did not have anything to do with her death."

I slapped a few photos onto the table. "I had a feeling you'd be like this, so I brought along a reminder."

The photos weren't anything really, just a parlor trick to shake Malkovich. I had made a quick visit to the morgue and collected some pictures of a body that had been found. The victim was assumed to have died around five years ago. It was close enough to Mary's case that I felt it would rattle him.

And sure enough, it did.

Malkovich picked up the photos and stared at them. "Interesting, but it proves nothing."

"So, you admit there is something to be proven?"

"There is nothing to admit. I had nothing to do with any of this." Malkovich grabbed my recorder and smashed it under his heel. "Boys, escort this unwanted guest out."

I looked at the recorder. "So this is how it's going to be played."

Two of Malkovich's goons grabbed me from behind and drug me to my feet. I shook them off. "Tossing me out won't stop the inevitable."

Malkovich leaned back in his seat. "Who said anything about tossing you out?"

I looked around, there were at least half a dozen men, all focused on me. There were two paths I could take. The decision was easy enough.

I shoved past the two goons and raced for the doorway. All the men in the room leapt from their seats, barring the exit. 

I slid to a stop and grabbed a chair, shoving them back. I was completely surrounded with no weapons.

My back was to the bar, there were no free spots to move around. The goons all grinned like some sort of halloween mirror and rushed in. Before I even had the chance to properly defend myself, I was completely overwhelmed.

I fought back but there was no way to come out of this fight in one piece. By this point, I had come to the conclusion that all of these men had invested in steel toed boots. Possibly with spikes.

I lay on the floor and groaned, wrapping an arm around my stomach. "That all you got?"

Malkovich stood above me, a smirk twisting his face. "Any place special that you want to go?"

"Like Miami?" I sat up, wincing at the twinge in my ribs. 

Malkovich pulled a knife out and studied the blade carefully. "It doesn't really matter to me, but you'll be there for an eternity."

He plunged the blade between my ribs and twisted it sharply.

I gasped as he yanked it out, hot blood pouring down my side. My vision blurred as I looked up at him. "Should've seen that coming." I coughed.

Malkovich wiped the blade clean on my jeans. "Any last words?"

"Well..." I laughed bitterly. "Now that I'm dying, why don't you just tell me the truth? I can't tell anyone anyway."

"I suppose that's true. But I have nothing to say about it." Malkovich got to his feet. "If you're really curious, find the body. It's buried in the same place that you're going."

"Lovely." I pressed a hand to my side. "Is that really all? I thought you might do a desperate last-minute confession."

"No reason for it, you already know that I killed her. So why continue that matter?"

My head fell back, cracking against a bar stool. Even if there was a chance to escape, I couldn't take it.