The Betrayal

Chapter 10 - 'Gangsters'

I decided to let Pete take the reigns and do all of the talking, as he advised me to. Pete was that good at persuading people he could have probably charmed the worlds most vicious snake just by speaking to it. I was confident he could quick-talk this "Pallantino" guy with ease. I sipped my tasteful cocktail as Pete explained the whole ordeal and I tried to hide my grimacing reaction to each graphic but vague detail. I watched carefully at Pallantino's reactions however, and tried to decipher if he was being deceptive or not. To no bewilderment, he was. He was faking his shock reactions and his grievance condolences were as fraudulent as a fake identity. I kept this under wraps though as Pete hadn't the slightest clue he was lying. He knew something. Something much more deeper than a drug-fuelled burglar. He knew of the demons. I assessed the situation we were now placed in, which was about to get gritty.

The leader's tone swiftly changed, from serious to helpful. He admitted he knew who it was who attacked me and killed Kelly. Pete leaned in extremely intrigued and I couldn't help but wonder if he wanted to hear this to obtain justice, or to feed his morbid curiosity of the truth, knowing he wouldn't get it out of me. Pallantino was cut off mid-sentence by Pete's ringing phone,

"My sincerest apologies gentlemen, but I must take this." Pete said professionally. He stood up sternly and calmly walked back inside the house into a bathroom to take the phone call, in private. He must have either been confident nothing would happen with me and Pallantino, or the phone call was too important to miss. We sat in silence for minutes until Pallantino suddenly broke the tranquillity,

"It's strange how people keep secrets isn't it?" He said mockingly. "I suppose sometimes we're forced to, but everyone has a choice in pretty-much everything. What if people communicated more to those who liked to force secrets and convinced them you were similar, and pushed secrets back on them. Would you remain enemies? Or become allies? It's entirely possible a deal could be struck, right?" He questioned. The perplexing riddle was cut short by Pete's hasty return to the table,

"Excuse me sir could I perhaps have a quick moment with my colleague in private?" Pete said hurriedly, struggling to keep his composure. Pallantino shrugged his shoulders and rudely waved his hand away, allowing us to go. I assumed this was just how he dismissed people but it still angered me. Pete saw it annoyed me and dragged me away to a wall nearby, but I made sure Pallantino and his men were still in my view,

"We need to get out now. He doesn't want to help us, he's helping the people who attacked you! It was an organisation, not just one man!" He cried, terrified for his life. I acted shocked by this "new-found" information and agreed we needed to leave quickly. He continued to talk but I was abruptly distracted by Pallantino's beckoning of another man. The black-suited man marched over to him like a robot, awaiting command. He was old and of average height, but didn't seem frail. If anything he walked with ease like he was extremely athletic. He was fully bald and had brown eyes. He had to have been their assassin. He leaned down to Pallantino's face, hovering his ear next to Pallantino's mouth, waiting for orders. I couldn't see what he said to the man as the assassin's head covered Pallantino's face, but it couldn't have been good. The assassin's glare dawned towards us and locked. We had to move. Why couldn't I move?

The drink Pallantino gave me! The one Peter luckily rejected. My legs weakened and I slumped to my knees. My arms flopped to my sides and I was unable to talk, like a kneeling statue. It was poisoned.

"Jesus Nathan are you all right? What the fuck's happening to you?" Pete said, worriedly.

The assassin began to walk over, ignoring me and staring straight at Pete. Pallantino must have told him Pete didn't drink the poison. He was walking to the side of Pete, just outside of his peripheral vision. I fought so hard against the poison to warn Pete, but only mumbles, gargles and frothing spit made its way out of my droopy and paralysed mouth. We were helpless. The man slowly moved one side of his suit jacket back, revealing a large pistol holder strapped to his elegant belt. He removed the large gun which was twice the size of his hand, and which also had a grip wide enough to knock out a rhino with a smack. He placed the four-inch long barrel on to Pete's temple. Pete, acknowledging what was about to happen, smirked and winked at me sadly, before closing his eyes. Time felt like it slowed as the assassin pressed the trigger, releasing the speeding bullet that penetrated Pete's skull. The gun recoiled away as the bullet pierced and shot out the other side of Pete's head, bringing an explosion of blood and scattered skull with it. The inside of Pete's head sprayed across the wall as his stiff and limp body fell sideways onto it, sinking to the ground.

In my mind I was screaming unforgivable curses to the man, but on the outside my face was a jittering mess. He smashed my face as hard as stone with the grip of his pistol, knocking teeth out of my mouth, popping my lip and cracking my jaw. I was too busy trying to accept what had happened to be affected by the pain. Pete had slipped away from me like a shadow into shade. My best friend was gone.