Читать книгу The Story of Sin. A sinful tale - Nikita S. Kazantsev - Страница 4

A Mob Life

It’s been 2 years since that awful night. Mike managed to escape and hide in Westport. He was poor – no work, no money and no food. He scraped in any way he could until he was picked up by two very friendly looking men. The men earned his trust. Mike, you see, wounded by the death of his sister and hungry from the street life became like a rabid dog – cautious and sharp on the bite. But the two men took a liking to Mike. They needed a new finger on the black hand. One they could raise from an early age. Without a backstory, without a past. A finger they could shape however they wanted – a pawn to use and dispose of when needed. A rare thing to come by.

«Hey there! Boy!» One of the men beckoned while smoking a cigarette.

«Yeah, over here, friend.» The second man chipped in.

Mike hesitantly walked over;

«Whaddaya want?!» Mike muttered. Desperately hiding the fear in his eyes.

«Here, have this.» One of them handed Mike some money.

Mike looked at the bill and his eyes lit up.

«For… for what?» Mike stumbled to find the right words to say.

«Think of it as an… investment.» One of the men curiously explained.

«Yeah, and there’s more where that came from.» The second one added, while leaning over to his friend.

«Come with us; To our place» They said.

Mike knew in the back of his mind, that this was something that was not of law and order. A villainous aura ominously hovered over the two men, like in a storybook. But Mike was desperate, having had nothing at that point. He knew that he would have died on the street. He accepted their offer. The three of them then went to a bar called «The Saint Maria,» it was down the street. «The Saint Maria» was a quiet little «hole in the wall» bar. West Port was small as it is already, no attention comes to a bar in a rural town. A perfect setup for a criminal operation.

It wasn’t a big group of people. There were five at the time – a sleeper cell with a minimal budget. Then, finally, the two guys at the door, that led Mike here, introduced themselves:

«My names Patrick; And my names Craig.» Said the two men of the night.

«What’s your name?» They asked our hero.

«I’m Mike.»

«Welcome to the Saint Maria.» Happily yelled Patrick as he walked away from them over to the bar counter, for a nice cold one.

«Patrick runs things around here. He’ll make sure you’re treated alright.» Craig whispered in Mike’s ear. He then continued on after Patrick, to the counter.

Patrick was the head of the operation from what Mike had gathered up until that point. He ran the place. Who he answered to was none of anyone’s business from what Mike knew about the mob life. Craig seemed like Patrick’s second-in-command, his «Right hand» so to speak. He was always right by his side.

They seemed like a simple bunch, but the thought of them conducting criminal acts was still very poisonous to our hero’s mind. The thought of mobsters being the good guys is a legend heard all around. That they’ll stand with you against the government, or any enemy at that, is very heartwarming combined with the romantic lifestyle of a gangster. Mike snapped out of his thoughts as another man walked over to him.