Feathered Friend

Chapter 6

~ Freak On A Leash – Korn

The bird flew to a cheap tenement block. The stormy night made it appear all the more pitiful, cheap and neglected. There was a wreck of a car sitting on blocks at the front, obstructing the view of the front door. Probably on purpose to give the residents time to scatter if the cops showed up. It was dank and dark in the urine stinking stairwell and when the bird led me to the super's room I wondered what the hell I was doing there.

The wind from the half open door slammed the brittle piece of wood against the plaster of the wall as it blew up the stairs and flapped around my legs while I banged on the door. Three times I slammed my fist against the barrier between myself and my prey and then it opened with an angry "What The...?"

I stood there, a dead man looking exactly like I'd just climbed out of my grave to find the stinking pig standing in the doorway. The apartment reeked of cabbage and onions and the grimy, soiled clothing of the uncaring slob standing in front of me received their hundredth stain as his bladder released in terror at my appearance.

"Trick or treat" I said with a feral smile.

"No...no....no...." He stammered backing away from the door as I entered and saw what the bird wanted me to see.

Sitting on the table was an open lockbox. It was bigger than it should be considering it was full of destroyed dreams. There were watches, jewellery, rings, stained bundles of cash and even small gold bars. And there in the middle of the pile of stolen treasure were our rings.

We'd been buried without our wedding rings. They'd never been entered into evidence at the crime scene because one of our attackers had kept them to make a quick buck, along with anything else of value he could lay his hands on.

I looked at the horror struck man as he gibbered in panic at the depth of wrath in my face while I approached him.

"It wasn't me, whatever you're looking for it wasn't me. I fucking swear man." He managed to get out before I grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and lifted him into the air.

I barely felt his weight as I lifted the bands to his face and showed them to him. "You're just as guilty as the people who did this." I hissed at him, my face centimetres from his. His fetid breath puffed in my face as he tried to breathe, but I wasn't there to show him mercy.

I asked only one question, "Who?"

He didn't even bother trying to prevaricate. "Belikov... it was the Belikov Brothers." He gasped for air as my fingers tightened their grip on his shirt, "Those mutherfuckers are fucking scary but you're a freak."

"Their names." I demanded.

"Arkadi, Arkadi's the boss." He squealed as I shoved a finger inside one wet nostril and lifted him higher. "His brothers, Shiv and Shank,and... Firebug."

"And the last?" I asked knowing there were five.

"Sergei." He said, before I dropped him to the floor.

Ahhhhh. I had names, a clue to follow and thanks to my feathered friend, something to listen on the wind for. I was sure it wouldn't be difficult to find them. I looked down at the pitiful lump of a fence. God only knew how many deals he'd brokered with stolen merchandise from other victims of the brothers' butchery. I should have killed him right there, but I decided to let him be my messenger.

If the Belikovs knew someone was searching for them, they'd be thinking about that rather than keeping a low profile. They'd be out looking for me. I knew no one stood a chance against the Russian Mob. No one alive anyway.

There was pile of leather coats on a chair by the door and underneath that, a sawn off shotgun. I ignored the top coat, but held up the next one in the pile against me and then took it and the gun. The slug behind me finally got up the courage as he sat on the floor, to pull a .38 snub nose from his pocket and wave it at my back before saying, "Die you freak!"

The shot he fired went wide, his muscle strength all but erased with poor diet, lack of exercise and a total lack of target practice. And all I had to do was fire over my shoulder. The buckshot scattered, but not so much to mean the pellets missed their target. They just made a complete mess of the seated man and sprayed the wall behind him with red mist.

When the cops finally showed up to view the crime scene, the blood had dried.

It looked like the shape of a winged creature. A flying bird. A crow.

It didn't matter if he was dead. His body was enough of a message to the Bratva.

As the blue and red lights flashed brightly against the falling rain, Sergei was there in the crowd standing with the lookie-loos. He heard the cops talking about a witness statement advising them of a lone figure leaving the building with a bird. And when the crime scene photographer came out of the building and grabbed another memory card from his evidence bag, Sergei casually stepped closer to the vehicle and grabbed it before anyone in authority saw. Then he disappeared into the drizzling mist to report in to his Brother.

Their reactions as they viewed the photos were one of confusion at the odd bloodstain in the wall, but they had no idea of the vengeful spirit tracking them or that they were all doomed.

They dismissed the problem as none of their concern, the only thing Arkadi said was, "Have to find another fence."

Sergei nodded and threw the card in the closest trashcan.