Criminal Dynasties: The Faulkner Syndicate

Chapter Eight

The moment I got home, I knew it was time to leave for good. I forked out 10 dollars for the cab ride, deciding to leave the change as a tip. I wanted to complain about the fee, but decided I had to get out of the city first-the state, if possible.

I lived in a ratty three-floor apartment building on the not-so-nice part of town. Some bricks were missing, and trash cans lined the street, but it was decent inside. I had a studio-type on the second floor, and I counted my blessings for that. I passed the landlord's door and rushed up the stairs to my apartment. When I got there, I grabbed the key from my pocket and inserted it in the lock, turning it.

I sighed as I went in. My apartment was one of the few places in where I felt safe, and I wasn't ready to give it up just yet. I went into the tiny bedroom and started loading clothes and shoes into duffle bags. When I was done, three duffle bags lay on the bed, ready to be taken. I decided to pop down and talk with the landlord first before packing the rest of my stuff.

When I got downstairs, I knocked on the landlord's door. Nobody answered, so I resumed knocking, trying not to think of what could possibly happen if the gangs found me before I could disappear. Before I left the house, Lise had promised me that she would try her best to get the gangs of my location but warned me that they had plenty of resources. She told me that my best bet was to disappear and get a new identity if I wanted to get disinvolved, but told me I was always welcome at her house whenever I felt like it.

Suddenly, I realized I had been knocking on the door for a full two minutes and the landlord was yet to answer. Cursing, I realized the landlord must have been out. I remembered the landlord had told me one time that if I couldn't reach him in his apartment, he was probably out at his cousin's on the other side of town. I decided I could drive there after packing and went back upstairs.

An hour later, everything was packed and loaded into boxes I had smartly tucked away. I began loading the stuff into my car, a beat-up Nissan I had bought over the years with bonuses and tips. Finally, everything was loaded and I was ready to go.

I drove out of the driveway, cursing when my engine made weird rumbling noises, and started for the main road. Then from the side view mirror, I realized that really black smoke was emitting from my emission pipe. And then I noticed there was a cop behind me, flashing his siren. Of course.

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"I swear, the smoke wasn't like that the last time I took it out,' I told the officer before he even got to the car. I wondered if the officer, a fifty-something man with a large stomach, could be bribed.

"License," the officer said in a no-nonsense voice, stopping in front of the window.

"Right," I said. "Right." I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet. I rummaged through it, then frowned when I couldn't find my license. I looked through it again then just remembered what happened yesterday: the Mob had taken my license. Slowly, I closed my eyes and tried to think of a way out.

"Miss?" the officer asked. "License?"

I opened my eyes and took a deep breath. "My license was stolen," I told the officer. They did take it against my will, after all.

The officer looked at me a long time before saying, "And were you planning to report it, Miss...?" His eyes had already caught sight of all my stuff loaded in the backseat and in the passenger seat.

"Richter. Claire Richter," I told him. "I was, but completely forgot about it..." How did someone talk their way out of this one? I just wanted to get out of the city, and now I was caught by a cop, and time was running out. The gangs would find me soon if I stayed here. For God's sake, I hadn't even gotten out of my street yet!