Pietro and the Wolf
"Pilot to bombadier. Come in bombadier. Pete! You awake in there?"
Pietro Manetti looked up from his comic book and frowned.
"I'm ready," he announced to the burley little man scowling at him.
"Coulda fooled me," Dino scowled. "Reading that crap will rot your brain. What do you think? We're gonna use x-ray vision to figure out where he put it?"
"Go easy on him, Dino," Uncle George interrupted. "He's a kid. 'Sides, we only need him to watch the door. It's not like he's gonna be in the room with us."
"Giorgio, if he wasn't Maria's boy, I'd have put a bullet in his head already," Dino spat. "Lookit 'im. He's a daydreamer. Nose in a funny book when he should be looking for heat. Last time I had to babysit someone like this, I lost three good friends, and the little fucker got himself arrested and nearly took us all down with him. That's not gonna happen again, you got me?"
"Of course not, Dino," George replied. "Pete's a little wet behind the ears, but he's a smart boy. He'll make good. Won't you, boy?"
Pete stashed his comic book in his inside jacket pocket and nodded firmly to his uncle.
Dino turned to Pete and pointed his finger menacingly into his face.
"Listen, kid. I agreed to bring you along because your old man was a friend of mine. But if you screw this up, I'll take you down to the docks and drown you like a bag of sick puppies. Capice?"
"Yes, Dino. I won't screw up," Pete assurred him with what he hoped was the most sincere expression he could muster.
Dino had been a childhood hero of his, but it wasn't the first time he'd heard the man voice disapproval of him. He hadn't wanted to be dragged along for this, but his uncle was determined to mold him into his father's son.
And deep down, he wanted to earn Dino's respect. He was surprised how much it meant to him, considering the fact that he was pretty sure Dino had been trying to make time with his mother even before papa had died.
Pete gently patted the almost painfully solid shape of the gun stashed in his jacket pocket. He hoped to God he wouldn't have to use it, but he swore to himself that he'd make this terrible man proud of him somehow.
Uncle George was the first to the door, already pushing the bump key into place and jerking open the back door to the Terminal Building.
Pete was already starting to get nervous. It was almost six, so the building would largely be abandoned. However, his mind was racing with questions; What if the old man wasn't there? What if security was waiting for them? What if there was a shoot-out and the cops surrounded the building?
He reached into his pocket and carefully fingered the cold steel, the way he would a rosary. It seemed appropriate to him, and he drew strength from the act.
Then the unthinkable happened. They were passing the men's restroom door when the stick-like night security guard came stumbling out, still buckling his belt into place. The young man looked with surprise at the three dark-dressed men before him and began fumbling for his holster.
From the corner of his eye, Pete could see Dino already pulling his piece loose, and Pete knew that in another moment, there would be a dead guard and the cops would be alerted.
Before he knew what he was thinking, his hand flew out of his pocket, still clutching the automatic pistol, and swung the butt against the guard's left temple, sending him toppling sideways. The guard's gun tumbled and clattered harmlessly across the floor. The guard lay very still, doing an amazingly convincing impression of being sound asleep.
