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Entry tags:
"Sham Wolf"
"Sham Wolf"
6/23-6/24/1993
I.
Getting up from behind his desk, Bernard Schabot was scowling but that didn't mean anything. The gangster always had that expression. Nearing sixty, he was still hard and fit, with a flat stomach beneath that tailored Royal blue suit and wide shoulders that hinted at how strong he still was. Schabot's face was square and sullen beneath a greying crewcuit, and the blue eyes were sunken under bushy brows. He hated being called from his office, even though he knew it was in his own interest.
Standing in the doorway, a luscious young woman in a dark red dress smiled at his reaction. Lily looked at first like the prettiest coed from some local college, no more than twenty years old, slim and narrow-waisted with high firm breasts that caught everyone's attention. Her glossy black hair was simply done, hanging straight past her shoulders, and her perfect little heartshaped face was lit with barely repressed glee. "Oh, this is worth it, boss. You gotta see this guy."
Schabot made a growling sound deep in his chest. "I hope so. The boys keep coming up with half-baked ideas, someone's gonna get hurt for wasting my time. All right, let's have a look..."
Lily stepped aside to let him pass into the narrow hallway which turned sharply and ended at a plain wooden door. "Seriously, this is gonna be good," she told him. Schabot paused to glare up at a closed-circuit TV screen which showed the bar beyond that door. Mulvaney was standing right where he should be, obviously alert and on duty. Good. Schabot opened the door and came out in a little nook near the jukebox. Mulvaney heard the click of the door unlocking and turned slightly.
"Evening, boss," he said quietly. Like Lily, Mulvaney had been chosen because his looks were deceptive. Average height and build, dressed in simple flannel shirt and jeans and sneakers, he seemed to be just a blue-collar joe out for a few drinks. Mulvaney had a bland forgettable face, the pistol and knife and lead sap didn't show. It was only the scars on his knuckles that hinted at his real nature.
"Where's this bird I need to see?" Schabot asked.
Mulvaney managed not to smile. He knew his boss' personality ranged from surly at best to outright vindictive at any provocation, so he meekly answered, "Over by the door, sir."
FAITHLAND was oddly named, but it had been taken over from a previous owner who had pretensions. The bar was busier than usual for a Tuesday night just short of seven PM. The bigscreen TV was showing a Major League game, the bar was crowded and the chatter was animated. Someone wandering in off the street might get as far as ordering a drink before realizing how tough and unsavory the crowd was and quickly moving on. At a table in a corner, two thugs were playing 21 but there was no gambling as such at FAITHLAND. It was mostly for making deals and paying off debts and bringing unusual stolen goods for Schabot to appraise. The air was acrid with the smell of cigarette smoke that clung to the crowd's hair and clothes, although no one actually smoked inside.
Next to the door was a booth under the window where the neon tubing blinked red and green, its letters reversed when seen from inside. Sitting by himself with an empty beer mug was a thin man with black hair and a narrow face. He was wearing a plain white T-shirt with an unbuttoned blue work shirt over it and black pants. As Schabot and Lily approach him, the man swung his head to watch them suspiciously. Beneath heavy brows were a pair of cold grey eyes that glittered in the murky light.
Bernard Schabot froze in place. He had seen that face only once before, but under circumstances he was not likely to forget. What would that joker be doing here, sitting out in the open like that? Keeping one eye on the crowd, the gangster noticed that more than one customer was also keeing the man under wary observation.
If FAITHLAND had been deserted, with only his own men here, Schabot would have already shot this man dead. He had his snub-nose concealed on him. But there were too many strange faces watching, too much chance a few might be undercover rats. He struggled to put a smile on his rocky face. "Well. Bane, what brings you here?"
"What?" answered the man. "Do I know you, mister?"
"You should. I certainly know you. Jeremy Bane, the famous Dire Wolf. Wherever you go, the bodies either pile up or disappear completely." Schabot shook his head slowly. "I figured you hunted bigger game than honest businessmen like me."
"Aw, you got me confused with someone else," the man said with disinterest. "I got in from Florida. I don't know anyone in New York. Sorry." He hefted his empty glass and gave it a disappointed stare.
Lily leaned in close to take that glass, being sure to give him a good look down her neckline. "Here, let me. What are you having, my friend?"
"Pabst. What else?" The man grinned as he took her in. "My name's Feeney, Pete Feeney."
"Call me Lily. I'll be right back." She returned his smile with a flash of shining white teeth and headed for the bar. Left standing there, Bernard Schabot put his hands in his trousers pockets and tried to keep his voice light and unthreatening. The man in the booth was watching him with what seemed like confusion.
"Feeney huh? Okay Mr Feeny, if you wanna use that handle. I still don't see where you have any business with me."
Slowly, comprehension sank in on Feeney's face. "I get it, you think I'm someone you know. Jeremy something or other. Sorry, mister, you're going the wrong way. I lived outside Tampa most of my life, I just moved up here a few days ago." He jerked a thumb at the window next to him. "That's my pick-up out there, the red Dodge."
Lily returned and handed a fresh mug of beer with a perfect head on it to Feeney, letting her fingers graze his just enough. He thanked her and took a sip, regarded the two of them and asked, "So what's the deal here anyway? You own this place?"
"Yeah. Sure. Listen, let me ask you something, Feeney. You just drove up here, you say. You have employment lined up?"
With a grimace, Feeney took a big swig of the beer. "Nope. Got no contacts. If I hadn't had to leave in such a hurry, maybe I would have a job or two lined up." He met Schabot's eyes again. "To be honest, I ain't that particular about the kinda work I do. Money's money, you know, and a boy has to live."
"How true," Schabot answered. "Tell you what. Come with me to my office. Maybe I can find something for you to do. You seem like a solid guy who knows the score."
Pete Feeney slid out of the booth and stood up facing them. He was just over six feet tall, gaunt and dangerous-looking as a hungry wolf. "Sure thing. I'm ready to listen."
Still scrutinizing the man, Schabot had visibly relaxed. He clapped a meaty paw on Feeney's shoulder. "I think I've got just the right chore for you to handle. Courier stuff. I can't see any problem."
II.
Two hours later in Schabot's office, after Feeney had devoured a steak with mushrooms that Schabot had ordered, the two seemed to be on much more sanguine terms. "It still sounds screwy to me, but I can see you're a sharp operator," Feeney said as he wiped his mouth. "I have no problem with this chore. I meet this guy Gaddis and make a deal with him for some hot items. He thinks I'm someone else, Jeremy Bane.. whoever that is, and he treats me square. Then I come back here with the dough. Piece of cake."
Still watching his guest, Bernard Schabot allowed himself the beginning of a smile. "Everything is gonna go smooth as a dance routine. I gotta warn you, though, Gaddis is no choir boy, you know what I mean? He's got some blood on his hands. Talk to him with respect and don't stare at his face."
Feeney blinked. "What about his face?"
"Not a Hollywood pretty boy, that's all I have to say." The gangster looked up as Lily came in with two big shopping bags. "Got your costume right here. Maybe you should change in the bathroom over there. Oh, and I brought you a razor, shave close."
"Whatever you say, gorgeous." Feeney stood and took the bags, and Lily smiled into his eyes. She never quite overdid it, but she knew the effect she had on men. While their new partner went into the bathroom, she walked over to the desk. "God, he looks too much like Bane to suit me. It's creepy. Are you sure he's NOT Bane trying some game?"
"I had Jimmy make a few calls to friends of ours. Pete Feeney is a small-time crook in Tampa, he's only done ninety days in the local lock-up but he has a case officer. That CO says Feeney skipped Friday afternoon when he had a scheduled visit and no one has seen him. His truck and clothes are missing. His description matches this bird."
Raising one arched eyebrow, Lily scoffed. "I still don't know. From what I've heard of Bane, he's capable of setting up a background like that for us to find."
"We have to go with my instincts, Lily. I let you question me but if one of the boys gave me doubts like that, I'd get rid of him." Schabot frowned at the empty plate on the corner of his desk. "I'm sure. Nobody's that good an actor."
Coming out of the bathroom, Feeney was now dressed all in black. Boots, slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket. The effect on his lean body was ominous enough, and despite himself Schabot drew in a breath and almost pushed the button on the side of his desk that would summon help. The resemblance was insane. What if this really was the Dire Wolf himself, right here almost within reach? And he had brought the bastard here...
Then Feeney spoke and ended the moment. "What's this all about? Am I supposed to be scary or something, cause I feel stupid."
"You don't look stupid," Lily said in his ear, leaning one soft breast against his arm. "I think you look great." For this, she received a smitten smile from Feeney. He was buying it completely.
"Tone it down," Schabot snapped at her. "Here's the deal, Feeney. I checked about old man Gaddis. He's doing business tonight. He has some stolen books that are rare and worth a bundle, I guess. They're about black magic, real blasphemous stuff. I'm going to send you in to negotiate, but I will be in the car nearby in case things go wrong."
"Maybe you don't want me asking questions, but I gotta know. What's the point of me dressing up like this?" Feeney tugged at the lapels of the black sport jacket. "This guy you think I look like, what's the advantage of me passing as him?"
Schabot pushed his chair back and stood up, fighting down his habitual anger. "You're new. As a rule, people that work for me don't ask questions and don't talk about their jobs to anyone outside the team. So I'll make an exception here. Bane has a reputation for being honest and straight. We're gonna wreck that. When you get a chance, you give the old geezer a smack across the head and take the books. Not too hard, mind you. I want Gaddis to live to tell everyone what Bane did, maybe press charges.
"Got it," said Feeney. "I'm carrying a sap already, I know how to handle it. Thanks, boss. And I'll remember what you said about being quiet."
"You'll do okay. Lily. Go tell Mulvaney to bring the van around. He'll drive. All four of us are going to Jersey tonight."
With one hand on the office door, the young woman hesitated. "Wait. Is this guy going to walk through your bar looking like the goddamn Dire Wolf of all people...? Half the animals out there might take a shot at him."
"We're going the back way. Through the alley between buildings. You know, you're questioning me a little too often yourself, missie."
Lily flashed him a smile that had broken many hearts. "I have privileges," she purred as she went out.
III.
On a back street in Lowell, New Jersey, a bright red SUV with slightly tinted windows sat parked in the darkness at the end of a block. Across the street was the bland and uninteresting white plank house with shingled roof and a redwood picnic table on the lawn with two matching chairs. Every window seemed to be lit. In the SUV, George Mulvaney sat behind the wheel with the window down on this warm night. Sitting in the passenger seat was Schabot, checking out the area with deep suspicion. Lily and Feeney were in the back.
"Everything SEEMS kosher..." Schabot finally admitted. "Feeney. You've got the money in three different envelopes. Try to get away with handing out just one packet, but this way you can go up five thousand dollars each time without counting out money in front of him. You remember what the books look like?"
"Yeah, boss. Really old, 8 by ten, written by someone named Conrad Weiss. I'll check them out," Feeney answered.
"Good. Now, Gaddis is old but he might have a pistol nearby," Schabot said. "He will play straight with you because he thinks you're Dire Wolf. But he's been robbed in the past and he'll be ready for trouble. Just give him a good crack across the skull when you get a chance and grab the books and come back to the car. Simple, one two three. Get going."
"Yep." As Feeney started to open the car door, Lily leaned over and planted a good lingering kiss right on the mouth, making a slight smacking noise.
"Good luck," she breathed. Feeney did not answer but grinned at her in the gloom as he got out and walked across the street.
"Hey, Lily, take it easy with that stuff," snapped Mulvaney from the front seat. "I don't like it when you get too chummy with the new guys."
She laughed out loud. "It's my job, George. I'm bait for the suckers. You ought to know that by now."
"Don't take it personal," Schabot added. "I don't want friction on the team. Lily knows what she's doing. Hey, Feeney went inside but I thought I saw someone else moving in the yard."
"Yeah? Maybe the bodyguard. It's kinda dark over there," said Lily. She rolled down her own window and stuck her head out to look around. "I don't see anything."
Five minutes passed, then ten. Schabot shifted uneasily in the front passenger seat. "I can't help but worry that this Feeney guy IS Bane. He just looks so much like him. It's eerie. I was thinking if Feeney pulls this off, the next step is to use him for a few heists. Bane works with the cops enough that he can get away with being on a crime scene and not be detained.. but if Feeney really is Dire Wolf trying to play us..."
An unexpected sharp cracking noise sounded by the driver's window and Mulvaney slumped forward against the wheel, his mouth hanging open. As Schabot said, "What the HELL?", a dark shape flashed around the car and suddenly the long barrel of a Smith & Wesson was an inch from his face. "Feeney? What is wrong with you? Put that thing down while you still can."
"Get out of the car," came a low voice. "The girl, too." Forced to obey, Schabot and Lily grudgingly stepped out into the night street and were directed toward Gaddis' house.
"You know this finishes you," Schabot growled. "You just punched your own ticket."
"Inside," was the only answer. They went in at gunpoint through the front door, into a brightly lit living room lined with bookcases, with two paintings on the wall and sparse furniture. Standing in the center of that room was a fat old man in a suit and tie, leaning on a cane. Gaddis chuckled unpleasantly when he saw Schabot and Lily.
"Welcome," Gaddis laughed. "And.. surprise."
Stretched out on the floor, stunned but not completely unconscious, Pete Feeney groaned and stirred his arms vaguely. He was not going to be getting up anytime soon. Schabot's heart missed a beat at the sight. He wheeled around to face the man holding the gun on him, and saw an identical lean six-footer also dressed all in black. The resemblance was still uncanny, but this man's eyes were a chilly clear grey that had startling impact. The difference between his eyes and Feeney's was between cut glass and a diamond.
"Oh my God..." Lily breathed. "It can't be."
"I was here tonight to meet with Mr Gaddis," said Jeremy Bane coldly. "And I have to say, I don't appreciate your little masquerade."
6/10/2015
6/23-6/24/1993
I.
Getting up from behind his desk, Bernard Schabot was scowling but that didn't mean anything. The gangster always had that expression. Nearing sixty, he was still hard and fit, with a flat stomach beneath that tailored Royal blue suit and wide shoulders that hinted at how strong he still was. Schabot's face was square and sullen beneath a greying crewcuit, and the blue eyes were sunken under bushy brows. He hated being called from his office, even though he knew it was in his own interest.
Standing in the doorway, a luscious young woman in a dark red dress smiled at his reaction. Lily looked at first like the prettiest coed from some local college, no more than twenty years old, slim and narrow-waisted with high firm breasts that caught everyone's attention. Her glossy black hair was simply done, hanging straight past her shoulders, and her perfect little heartshaped face was lit with barely repressed glee. "Oh, this is worth it, boss. You gotta see this guy."
Schabot made a growling sound deep in his chest. "I hope so. The boys keep coming up with half-baked ideas, someone's gonna get hurt for wasting my time. All right, let's have a look..."
Lily stepped aside to let him pass into the narrow hallway which turned sharply and ended at a plain wooden door. "Seriously, this is gonna be good," she told him. Schabot paused to glare up at a closed-circuit TV screen which showed the bar beyond that door. Mulvaney was standing right where he should be, obviously alert and on duty. Good. Schabot opened the door and came out in a little nook near the jukebox. Mulvaney heard the click of the door unlocking and turned slightly.
"Evening, boss," he said quietly. Like Lily, Mulvaney had been chosen because his looks were deceptive. Average height and build, dressed in simple flannel shirt and jeans and sneakers, he seemed to be just a blue-collar joe out for a few drinks. Mulvaney had a bland forgettable face, the pistol and knife and lead sap didn't show. It was only the scars on his knuckles that hinted at his real nature.
"Where's this bird I need to see?" Schabot asked.
Mulvaney managed not to smile. He knew his boss' personality ranged from surly at best to outright vindictive at any provocation, so he meekly answered, "Over by the door, sir."
FAITHLAND was oddly named, but it had been taken over from a previous owner who had pretensions. The bar was busier than usual for a Tuesday night just short of seven PM. The bigscreen TV was showing a Major League game, the bar was crowded and the chatter was animated. Someone wandering in off the street might get as far as ordering a drink before realizing how tough and unsavory the crowd was and quickly moving on. At a table in a corner, two thugs were playing 21 but there was no gambling as such at FAITHLAND. It was mostly for making deals and paying off debts and bringing unusual stolen goods for Schabot to appraise. The air was acrid with the smell of cigarette smoke that clung to the crowd's hair and clothes, although no one actually smoked inside.
Next to the door was a booth under the window where the neon tubing blinked red and green, its letters reversed when seen from inside. Sitting by himself with an empty beer mug was a thin man with black hair and a narrow face. He was wearing a plain white T-shirt with an unbuttoned blue work shirt over it and black pants. As Schabot and Lily approach him, the man swung his head to watch them suspiciously. Beneath heavy brows were a pair of cold grey eyes that glittered in the murky light.
Bernard Schabot froze in place. He had seen that face only once before, but under circumstances he was not likely to forget. What would that joker be doing here, sitting out in the open like that? Keeping one eye on the crowd, the gangster noticed that more than one customer was also keeing the man under wary observation.
If FAITHLAND had been deserted, with only his own men here, Schabot would have already shot this man dead. He had his snub-nose concealed on him. But there were too many strange faces watching, too much chance a few might be undercover rats. He struggled to put a smile on his rocky face. "Well. Bane, what brings you here?"
"What?" answered the man. "Do I know you, mister?"
"You should. I certainly know you. Jeremy Bane, the famous Dire Wolf. Wherever you go, the bodies either pile up or disappear completely." Schabot shook his head slowly. "I figured you hunted bigger game than honest businessmen like me."
"Aw, you got me confused with someone else," the man said with disinterest. "I got in from Florida. I don't know anyone in New York. Sorry." He hefted his empty glass and gave it a disappointed stare.
Lily leaned in close to take that glass, being sure to give him a good look down her neckline. "Here, let me. What are you having, my friend?"
"Pabst. What else?" The man grinned as he took her in. "My name's Feeney, Pete Feeney."
"Call me Lily. I'll be right back." She returned his smile with a flash of shining white teeth and headed for the bar. Left standing there, Bernard Schabot put his hands in his trousers pockets and tried to keep his voice light and unthreatening. The man in the booth was watching him with what seemed like confusion.
"Feeney huh? Okay Mr Feeny, if you wanna use that handle. I still don't see where you have any business with me."
Slowly, comprehension sank in on Feeney's face. "I get it, you think I'm someone you know. Jeremy something or other. Sorry, mister, you're going the wrong way. I lived outside Tampa most of my life, I just moved up here a few days ago." He jerked a thumb at the window next to him. "That's my pick-up out there, the red Dodge."
Lily returned and handed a fresh mug of beer with a perfect head on it to Feeney, letting her fingers graze his just enough. He thanked her and took a sip, regarded the two of them and asked, "So what's the deal here anyway? You own this place?"
"Yeah. Sure. Listen, let me ask you something, Feeney. You just drove up here, you say. You have employment lined up?"
With a grimace, Feeney took a big swig of the beer. "Nope. Got no contacts. If I hadn't had to leave in such a hurry, maybe I would have a job or two lined up." He met Schabot's eyes again. "To be honest, I ain't that particular about the kinda work I do. Money's money, you know, and a boy has to live."
"How true," Schabot answered. "Tell you what. Come with me to my office. Maybe I can find something for you to do. You seem like a solid guy who knows the score."
Pete Feeney slid out of the booth and stood up facing them. He was just over six feet tall, gaunt and dangerous-looking as a hungry wolf. "Sure thing. I'm ready to listen."
Still scrutinizing the man, Schabot had visibly relaxed. He clapped a meaty paw on Feeney's shoulder. "I think I've got just the right chore for you to handle. Courier stuff. I can't see any problem."
II.
Two hours later in Schabot's office, after Feeney had devoured a steak with mushrooms that Schabot had ordered, the two seemed to be on much more sanguine terms. "It still sounds screwy to me, but I can see you're a sharp operator," Feeney said as he wiped his mouth. "I have no problem with this chore. I meet this guy Gaddis and make a deal with him for some hot items. He thinks I'm someone else, Jeremy Bane.. whoever that is, and he treats me square. Then I come back here with the dough. Piece of cake."
Still watching his guest, Bernard Schabot allowed himself the beginning of a smile. "Everything is gonna go smooth as a dance routine. I gotta warn you, though, Gaddis is no choir boy, you know what I mean? He's got some blood on his hands. Talk to him with respect and don't stare at his face."
Feeney blinked. "What about his face?"
"Not a Hollywood pretty boy, that's all I have to say." The gangster looked up as Lily came in with two big shopping bags. "Got your costume right here. Maybe you should change in the bathroom over there. Oh, and I brought you a razor, shave close."
"Whatever you say, gorgeous." Feeney stood and took the bags, and Lily smiled into his eyes. She never quite overdid it, but she knew the effect she had on men. While their new partner went into the bathroom, she walked over to the desk. "God, he looks too much like Bane to suit me. It's creepy. Are you sure he's NOT Bane trying some game?"
"I had Jimmy make a few calls to friends of ours. Pete Feeney is a small-time crook in Tampa, he's only done ninety days in the local lock-up but he has a case officer. That CO says Feeney skipped Friday afternoon when he had a scheduled visit and no one has seen him. His truck and clothes are missing. His description matches this bird."
Raising one arched eyebrow, Lily scoffed. "I still don't know. From what I've heard of Bane, he's capable of setting up a background like that for us to find."
"We have to go with my instincts, Lily. I let you question me but if one of the boys gave me doubts like that, I'd get rid of him." Schabot frowned at the empty plate on the corner of his desk. "I'm sure. Nobody's that good an actor."
Coming out of the bathroom, Feeney was now dressed all in black. Boots, slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket. The effect on his lean body was ominous enough, and despite himself Schabot drew in a breath and almost pushed the button on the side of his desk that would summon help. The resemblance was insane. What if this really was the Dire Wolf himself, right here almost within reach? And he had brought the bastard here...
Then Feeney spoke and ended the moment. "What's this all about? Am I supposed to be scary or something, cause I feel stupid."
"You don't look stupid," Lily said in his ear, leaning one soft breast against his arm. "I think you look great." For this, she received a smitten smile from Feeney. He was buying it completely.
"Tone it down," Schabot snapped at her. "Here's the deal, Feeney. I checked about old man Gaddis. He's doing business tonight. He has some stolen books that are rare and worth a bundle, I guess. They're about black magic, real blasphemous stuff. I'm going to send you in to negotiate, but I will be in the car nearby in case things go wrong."
"Maybe you don't want me asking questions, but I gotta know. What's the point of me dressing up like this?" Feeney tugged at the lapels of the black sport jacket. "This guy you think I look like, what's the advantage of me passing as him?"
Schabot pushed his chair back and stood up, fighting down his habitual anger. "You're new. As a rule, people that work for me don't ask questions and don't talk about their jobs to anyone outside the team. So I'll make an exception here. Bane has a reputation for being honest and straight. We're gonna wreck that. When you get a chance, you give the old geezer a smack across the head and take the books. Not too hard, mind you. I want Gaddis to live to tell everyone what Bane did, maybe press charges.
"Got it," said Feeney. "I'm carrying a sap already, I know how to handle it. Thanks, boss. And I'll remember what you said about being quiet."
"You'll do okay. Lily. Go tell Mulvaney to bring the van around. He'll drive. All four of us are going to Jersey tonight."
With one hand on the office door, the young woman hesitated. "Wait. Is this guy going to walk through your bar looking like the goddamn Dire Wolf of all people...? Half the animals out there might take a shot at him."
"We're going the back way. Through the alley between buildings. You know, you're questioning me a little too often yourself, missie."
Lily flashed him a smile that had broken many hearts. "I have privileges," she purred as she went out.
III.
On a back street in Lowell, New Jersey, a bright red SUV with slightly tinted windows sat parked in the darkness at the end of a block. Across the street was the bland and uninteresting white plank house with shingled roof and a redwood picnic table on the lawn with two matching chairs. Every window seemed to be lit. In the SUV, George Mulvaney sat behind the wheel with the window down on this warm night. Sitting in the passenger seat was Schabot, checking out the area with deep suspicion. Lily and Feeney were in the back.
"Everything SEEMS kosher..." Schabot finally admitted. "Feeney. You've got the money in three different envelopes. Try to get away with handing out just one packet, but this way you can go up five thousand dollars each time without counting out money in front of him. You remember what the books look like?"
"Yeah, boss. Really old, 8 by ten, written by someone named Conrad Weiss. I'll check them out," Feeney answered.
"Good. Now, Gaddis is old but he might have a pistol nearby," Schabot said. "He will play straight with you because he thinks you're Dire Wolf. But he's been robbed in the past and he'll be ready for trouble. Just give him a good crack across the skull when you get a chance and grab the books and come back to the car. Simple, one two three. Get going."
"Yep." As Feeney started to open the car door, Lily leaned over and planted a good lingering kiss right on the mouth, making a slight smacking noise.
"Good luck," she breathed. Feeney did not answer but grinned at her in the gloom as he got out and walked across the street.
"Hey, Lily, take it easy with that stuff," snapped Mulvaney from the front seat. "I don't like it when you get too chummy with the new guys."
She laughed out loud. "It's my job, George. I'm bait for the suckers. You ought to know that by now."
"Don't take it personal," Schabot added. "I don't want friction on the team. Lily knows what she's doing. Hey, Feeney went inside but I thought I saw someone else moving in the yard."
"Yeah? Maybe the bodyguard. It's kinda dark over there," said Lily. She rolled down her own window and stuck her head out to look around. "I don't see anything."
Five minutes passed, then ten. Schabot shifted uneasily in the front passenger seat. "I can't help but worry that this Feeney guy IS Bane. He just looks so much like him. It's eerie. I was thinking if Feeney pulls this off, the next step is to use him for a few heists. Bane works with the cops enough that he can get away with being on a crime scene and not be detained.. but if Feeney really is Dire Wolf trying to play us..."
An unexpected sharp cracking noise sounded by the driver's window and Mulvaney slumped forward against the wheel, his mouth hanging open. As Schabot said, "What the HELL?", a dark shape flashed around the car and suddenly the long barrel of a Smith & Wesson was an inch from his face. "Feeney? What is wrong with you? Put that thing down while you still can."
"Get out of the car," came a low voice. "The girl, too." Forced to obey, Schabot and Lily grudgingly stepped out into the night street and were directed toward Gaddis' house.
"You know this finishes you," Schabot growled. "You just punched your own ticket."
"Inside," was the only answer. They went in at gunpoint through the front door, into a brightly lit living room lined with bookcases, with two paintings on the wall and sparse furniture. Standing in the center of that room was a fat old man in a suit and tie, leaning on a cane. Gaddis chuckled unpleasantly when he saw Schabot and Lily.
"Welcome," Gaddis laughed. "And.. surprise."
Stretched out on the floor, stunned but not completely unconscious, Pete Feeney groaned and stirred his arms vaguely. He was not going to be getting up anytime soon. Schabot's heart missed a beat at the sight. He wheeled around to face the man holding the gun on him, and saw an identical lean six-footer also dressed all in black. The resemblance was still uncanny, but this man's eyes were a chilly clear grey that had startling impact. The difference between his eyes and Feeney's was between cut glass and a diamond.
"Oh my God..." Lily breathed. "It can't be."
"I was here tonight to meet with Mr Gaddis," said Jeremy Bane coldly. "And I have to say, I don't appreciate your little masquerade."
6/10/2015