R. Ellory - A Quiet Vendetta

I took the subway as far as Vine. I made my way down Hollywood Boulevard and the Walk of Fame, turned left on Cahuenga, right onto Selma, and there at the corner of Wilcox I found the building of which Ten Cent had spoken. I could see lights right across the third floor, also the second below, and I could hear the faint sound of music coming from the windows.

Entrance was easy. I went in through the back exit out of which the garbage and tradesmen would come. I found the base of a narrow stairwell that appeared to climb the height of the building, and up I went – silently, two risers at a time – until I reached the third floor.

I stood silently in the doorway at the top of the well, held it open no more than an inch or two, and it was there I heard the music louder. It came from the apartment facing me, from behind a door with 3B clearly visible on it, and I stayed there for some minutes ensuring that there was no coming and going along the hallway. When I was sure there was no-one entering or leaving any of the upper apartments I crossed the hallway. From my inside jacket pocket I took a thin sliver of metal and eased it between the door jamb and the striker plate. I nudged it down until I felt it touch the latch, and then with silent hair’s-breadth motions I started to wedge the blade into the lock. The lock sprang without difficulty. I turned the handle and the door gave way. I inched it open a fraction and waited for any sound inside. I heard nothing but the music, louder now, and realized that whoever was there would not have a hope of hearing me as I entered.

The hallway carpet was thick and dark. Along the walls hung black-and-white photographs, some of them clearly identifiable as images of cityscapes from many years before, others more abstract and undefined as to subject matter. I closed the door behind me, slid the chain across and flipped the deadbolt. Richard Ricardo evidently believed that once he was within the confines of his own home he was safe. Nothing, but nothing, could have been farther from the truth.

I went along the hallway without a sound. My breathing was low and shallow, and when I reached the end and pressed myself against the corner of the wall I could tilt my head and see into the main warehouse apartment.

Through a half-open door on the other side of the room I could see the end of a bed. The figure of a man, apparently naked, flitted across my line of vision and I shrank back. I waited for a second and then looked again. I could see no-one.

I stayed close to the wall and went into the main room, pressing my body against the plasterwork and circumventing the entire width until I came around on the other side and stood at the rear edge of the bedroom door. I could hear voices, at first one and then a second, and with my heart thundering in my chest I withdrew my.38 from the waistband of my pants.

The sight that greeted me as I peered around the doorframe and looked into the room surprised me. There were two men, both naked, one of them lying back on the bed with his hands cuffed to the stead. The second man was kneeling between the spread-eagled man’s legs, his head going up and down at a furious rate. I watched them for a little while, my mind turning back to Ruben Cienfuegos and the men we had robbed in Havana, the death of Pietro Silvino, the things he had said to me before I killed him.

The man lying down was moaning and writhing. The second man continued energetically for some thirty seconds or so, and then he kneeled back on his haunches, pulled the other man’s legs together, and then sat astride them. Shuffling forward he moved upwards until he sat across the man’s chest, and then using his hand to hold the cock of the man beneath him he gently eased backwards. I watched as the man’s cock slid inside him. The two of them were laughing together, and then the man on top started to rock back and forth, gently increasing his speed as he went.

I stepped away from the wall, crossed the room behind them, and with a single swipe of the gun handle I swept the music player off the table. The music stopped dead. The two men stopped also.

‘What the hell-’ the upper man exclaimed, and then he turned, and then he saw me standing there with a gun in my hand, and there was an expression in his eyes that said everything that could ever be said without a single word.

‘Oh my God… oh my God,’ he started, but the man beneath him was pale, in shock. Not a word came from his mouth as he lay there, with his hands cuffed to the frame of the bed, as naked as the day he was born, his cock inside someone’s ass and feeling like the world was ready to end.

The man on top fell sideways and started to his feet.

‘Sit the fuck down,’ I said.

He did as he was told.

‘You want money?’ he started whimpering, and then there were tears in his eyes. ‘We have money here, a lot of money… you can have all the money-’

‘No money,’ I said, and it was in that second that both of them realized what was going to happen.

The handcuffed man began crying, and pulled his knees up to his chest and tried to turn his body away so I could not see him naked.

‘What d’you want?’ the seated man asked.

‘Which one of you is Ricardo?’ I asked.

The seated man looked at me with horror. ‘I… I am Richard Ricardo,’ he said, and his voice cracked with fear.

‘You’re traveling both ways then?’ I said, and I smiled.

Ricardo frowned.

‘Girls and boys, whichever takes your fancy, right?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t know what you mean… what do you want?’

‘Retribution,’ I said, and from the inside jacket of my pocket I took one of the photographs that Ten Cent had shown me.

I held it up so it could be clearly seen.

Ricardo stared silently at the picture, and then he closed his eyes.

‘What’s his name?’ I asked, and indicated the other man lying on the bed.

Ricardo glanced sideways at him. ‘His name?’

I nodded. ‘His name.’

‘Leonard… this is Leonard.’

‘Well, tell Leonard he ain’t a fucking ostrich. Just because he ain’t looking at me doesn’t mean he’s invisible.’

Ricardo reached over and put his hand on Leonard’s shoulder. Leonard tried to shrug it off. He buried his face deeper into the pillow, and though the sound was muffled I could still hear him sobbing.

‘Undo the cuffs, Richard,’ I said.

Ricardo reached for the key on a small table beside the bed and unlocked the cuffs. Leonard tugged the bedsheet up and covered himself.

‘Leonard?’

Leonard didn’t move.

‘Leonard… turn this way and look at me or I’m gonna come over there and shove this gun so far up your ass you won’t stop hurting ’til Sunday.’

Leonard turned onto his side, and then eased himself upright. He clung onto the sheet as if he believed it would protect him against a bullet.

I held up the photograph so he could clearly see it. ‘You he might love for eternity,’ I said, ‘but your friend Richard has a certain way with the ladies that they don’t appreciate.’

‘You… you don’t understand-’ Ricardo started.

I raised my gun, pointed it directly between Ricardo’s eyes, and took three steps forward until the barrel touched the bridge of his nose.

‘Shut the fuck up,’ I said. With my other hand I held the photograph and waited until he was looking directly at it. ‘You know this girl?’ I asked.

Ricardo tried to frown, tried to make out like he was remembering whether or not he knew her.

‘We’re not playing games here,’ I said. ‘I know and you know, so don’t waste my time telling me anything else. You know this girl?’

Ricardo nodded. He closed his eyes. Tears were running down his cheeks.

‘You did this to her?’