Dirty Money

Chapter 1 - The Brenalli Crew

Frank Brenalli was waiting in a vacant house puffing on a fat Cuban cigar. He was overweight, and sat with both elbows on the table examining the gold stuck to his fat fingers, every minute or so he impatiently glanced at his watch. Roy phoned him earlier with the news, Albert had found out what he was up to somehow. Frank immediately summoned Roy, and the imbecile Marcus to meet him in a vacant house, the perfect meeting place since it wasn’t bugged.

The front door slowly crept open, putting him slightly on edge, “Roy why the fuck you come in like that? You could’ve given me a heart attack you know.” 

Roy didn’t bother closing the door behind him, “Sorry Frank,” Roy reached behind his back.

 “Shit!” Frank made for his own gun, sitting uselessly on the middle of the table.

One shot echoed throughout the house, Roy walked over and pumped another two bullets without hesitation into his former boss’s chest. Just to be sure. He slammed the door behind him, sprinting by the for sale sign wedged into the front lawn. A dead body found in someone’s house was sure to drop the value, but then again, the family would probably purchase it anyway, for a bargain, as always.

The dark sedan parked alongside the footpath came to life, Marcus, the protégé of Roy was more than eager to get out of there. They just did something completely against the books, eliminated a superior.

“You do it?”

 “Are you fucking crazy? What do you think I came running for?” Roy wiped the gun down, and placed it in the glove box.

 “Can’t believe it,” Marcus still couldn’t figure out how Albert found out about  Frank’s sly dealings.

 “We got to get to the boss's, now,” Roy didn’t have a hint of nerves, so Marcus knew they were all good.

 “You think he knows about us?”

 “Marcus. If he knew we were dealing to, we would of wound up dead before Frank, I guarantee you, just drive will you, you’re talking to the new general now don’t forget. You’re going to be made soon,” Roy thumped him in the shoulder excitedly.

Marcus was ecstatic; finally a bump up from shit kicker, washing Frank’s laundry everyday was a maid’s job. They drove casually through a small suburb, ordering takeaway on their way to deliver the good news. This was the first time that either of them had formally been invited to Albert’s house; they were men on the rise.

They approached the long stretch of rural area just outside they city limits, Albert live in a massive multi million dollar three level house. Marcus slowed down as he approached the Watchtower at the bottom; a small concrete council approved building, fitted with security cameras, and spotlights.

An elder soldier sat in a chair in front of the building that opened the massive steel electronic gate; the only other way over the boundaries would be a very big ladder. They recognised Peter straight away; he was in his mid sixties, but still alert the old man was armed with a radio, sporting a velour tracksuit, and receding white hairline, sprung to his feet at the approach of the car.

 Peter shone his torch in Marcus’s face when he pulled up alongside the watchtower to be let in.

 “Boys,” the old soldier lowered the torch, and pressed his thumb into the side of the radio radio, “They’re here,” he spoke calmly, putting them at ease. 

 “Thanks Peter,” they watched as entered the small building, and disappeared, soon after the heavy gate started to slide open.

 They drove along the winding driveway sheltered either side by thick trees and lampposts; each with cameras attached. There was no way off the drive way, making anyone coming or going the perfect candidates for an ambush, this put Roy on edge a little bit. He knew he wasn’t going to get whacked, especially after what they just done, but he’d set up so many hits before and knew how they went down. You’re supposed to feel comfortable and drop your guard; he couldn’t let his sudden case of nerves be visible to Marcus.