Bishop & Rook Page 2

  “Before, we proceed; I think it’s only appropriate that I introduce myself… One second thought,” said Ian, causing the frail man to snap his attention to him. “Willard, I want you to do it for me—tell’em who I am, go’head.”

  “Ian—”

  “I can’t hear you!” Ian snapped. “Start over!”

  “Sorry, Ian!” replied Willard, getting control himself. “He’s Ian Graves, the Lieutenant of the Falcone Family. He’s a businessman and entrepreneur. The men standing behind him are Devin and Barry—his personal bodyguards.”

  “That’s right,” Ian said in a confident tone. “So, now you know who we are, and you know who this slime-ball thief, Willard Zane is, that leads me to you two. Are you guys his friends? Thieves like him?”

  “No,” said Bishop. His voice was devoid of emotion. “We’re not friends at all, this guy stole from me.”

  “He stole from you? You’ll just steal from anyone won’t you, Zane?”

  Willard trembled against the brick wall s Ian fixed his jacket on his shoulders and cleared his throat. “So, we’ve established that he stole something from you. What did he steal?”

  Bishops eyes veered to the broken box near the door and Ian’s followed. “That.”

  “That—what’s that?”

  “An expensive recreational device,” answered Bishop.

  “An expensive—you being smart with me, guy? Is that it? Devin, check the box!”

  One of the large men strode toward the box, picking it up and bringing it to Ian. He took his place behind Ian once more, folding his arms as Ian looked inside.

  “Is this what I think it is?”

  “See Rook, I told you—”

  “You, shut up! Speak only when spoken to!” Ian ordered. He looked into the box again. “An original Nintendo Game Boy?” Ian asked. He whistled as his eyes widened and his eyebrows rose. “If this is the original, it could fetch a pretty penny. I tell you what, let me keep this and you two are free to go. How about it?”

  Bishop snapped a look at Rook and shook his head. Rook, turned to him and nodded at Bishop, who’s face turned read for a moment before exhaling.

  “Fine… you can take it,” said Bishop, reluctance in his tone.

  “You’re a smart guy.”

  Ian reached into the broken box to remove its contents when he suddenly stopped and arched an eyebrow. Removing the package inside, he shook the box, but it was hollow and nothing was inside of it.

  “Is this some kind of joke? It’s empty!” Ian threw the empty box to the ground in a huff.

  Rook and Bishop snapped gazes at one-another in confusion. Bishop’s gaze then left Rook’s and clashed with Willard’s who looked as confused as they were. Rook tilted his head back an exhaled. Not only did he waste his day sitting in a diner, but the game Bishop purchased was nonexistent and now they stood against a brick wall in a back alley surrounded by gangsters.

  Ian reached into the inner jacket of his jacket, fetching a pistol from the holster and pointing it at them. He altered the weapon’s direction between the three of them, aiming at each of them every few seconds. “It would be so easy… It’s odd though—you two, have we met before?”

  “Considering you’re a criminal, no,” Rook said.

  “Fair enough, kid. I can’t shake off this feeling I know you two from somewhere. I heard him call you Rook, was it? And your name would be?”

  “It’s Bishop.”

  “Bishop,” said Ian before rubbing the left side of his head with the barrel of his gun. “Bishop and Rook, Bishop and Rook,” he reflected aloud. “Hey, I recognize those names! The Emo-looking guy and the nice kid!”

  “How?” asked Rook.

  “The Magic Duo! The we make magic happen guys?” asked Ian. “That’s the tag line for your duo! I heard of you two, but I didn’t believe it, but here you are right here in the flesh! You two have built up quite a reputation for yourselves—doing jobs for people and giving the money to charity.

  “What did I tell you, Rook? The tagline works.”

  “The name still sucks, Bishop.”

  “Oh, don’t look so surprised, Rook. You’d have to figure; even we criminals would here about the great Magic Duo. When two warlocks roam the streets doing good deeds and stopping bad guys, word spreads quick in my line of work. That’s how Ronnie ended up with a broken arm. They tried to go toe-to-toe with two warlocks. Fools!”

  “So what, you recognize who we are, now what?” Bishop questioned.

  “Hey! I’m the one with the gun, not you! Speak out of turn again and the only thing you’ll make happen is me pulling the trigger splattering your brain matter against the wall! You want to see my magic happen? Then try me!”

  Rook grabbed Bishop’s arm, attempting to calm him. “Sorry, Mr. Graves—we just want to know where we go from here.”

  “Mr. Graves… I like that. You see that boys?” Ian asked turning to his bodyguards. “Show them who is boss or ya won’t get any respect. It’s funny you should ask that though, Rook. You two are warlocks, right?”

  Bishop and Rook said nothing.

  “Of course you are. There is no way would you have been able to pull off that Meritov job unless you were. Me an Oscar, we go way back,” said Ian. “I believe its fate that I met you two here tonight. I just so happen to have a little problem of my own. So, I’ll tell you where we will go from here. To pay for my inconvenience and my employees’ broken arm and the bills that will come with it, you two will do a job for me.”

  “Sorry, we’re all booked up, maybe another time,” Bishop snapped before walking away.

  “You’ll be dead before you reach the alley if you take another step or better yet. I’ll blow Rook’s head off his shoulders right now! You may be a warlock, but not even you can stop all the bullets!” He pointed the gun at Bishop and his bodyguards retrieved their own from inside their jackets and joined him.

  Bishop stopped and turned to Ian. The bones in his hands popped and cracked as he tightened them into a fist. Rook shook his head slow and deliberate, a silent warning for Bishop not to take any further action. He didn’t know if Rook would listen, but he had to do something before things got out of control.

  “Can we have a moment to discuss?” Rook asked

  “Fine, you got a minute. Try anything, try to use magic, try to run away and Zane here gets one right between the eyes,” said Ian now pointing the gun at Zane. “Now take you minute!”

  Rook walked to Bishop cautiously and stood in front of him. It took a few seconds before he stopped staring at Ian and his men and looked at Rook. “We have no choice, Bishop. We have to do what he says,” pleaded Rook.

  “I know, but so what if he kills the thief?”

  “No! That’s not who we are and you know it!

  “He shouldn’t have stolen my game, it serves him right,” Bishop argued.

  “You’re seriously not thinking about that stupid game, at this moment, with a lunatic pointing his gun at us right now? Besides, there was nothing to steal! You were obviously ripped off!”

  “40 seconds!” Ian shouted.

  “If it wasn’t for you ruining my meeting, I would have had time to check and we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

  “Now you’re blaming me? You are incredible. Do you even hear yourself?”

  “I do, loud and clear—I was moments away from experiencing an eight-bit classic! But no, you wanted to cry and wine about having to wait a few hours, distracting me and then that idiot behind you tried to steal it from me. So yes, this is your fault!” Bishop argued stabbing his finger in Rook’s chest.

  “Had you not taken so long to begin with, I wouldn’t have gotten angry! You’re being ridiculous!”

  “Ridiculous? I’ll tell you what’s ridiculous; you not taking responsibility for this and trying to pass the blame!”

  “The box was empty, and you got robbed! Not once, but twice!”

  “Hey! Are you ladies done arguing now? Your time is up, so what’s it gonna be?”

  “Do we have a choice”? Bishop moaned, begrudgingly turning to Ian.

  “None that doesn’t involve you dying, I’d say.”

  “Fine,” said Bishop. “But how will we be compensated for this job? Depending on the difficulty and information, we charge half up front.”

  “Your compensation will be your lives. Unless you don’t want those, I can relieve you of them right now if you want me to?”

  “We accept, Mr. Graves,” Rook blurted.

  “Good. Devin, please go get the file for me,” said Ian.

  The large man holstered his weapon and walked into the door as Ian lowered his own, paced back and forth. Several minutes passed before Devin returned holding a large envelope. He handed the envelope to Rook before returning to his position behind his boss. Rook opened the envelope as Ian spoke.

  “A year back, a man named Daniel Ortega shot up a diner when he found out she was having an affair with a colleague. She was inside with another man. My little brother Eric, was working there as a server at the time and died that night. Ortega has been on the run since, trying to buy his way out of town and recently he’s found someone willing to help him and do just that. Using the funds he acquired as an investment banker they work for him now, using all of their resources to protect him.”

  “So, we catch this guy and then what?” Bishop asked.

  “Bring him to Mill’s Shipyard and deliver him to me.”

  “What happens then?” Rook questioned.

  “Do you believe this kid?” Ian scoffed, turning to his men for a moment before settling back on Rook. “Well, what’s going to happen then is the same thing that will happen to all of you if you fail,” he mocked.

  “It sounds easy enough,” said Bishop.

  “It won’t be, even for you warlocks. He’s well protected my armed guards willing to give up their lives with the kind of money he’s paying them. You have a twenty-four-hour window to get the job done. You have until eight-thirty tomorrow night. There’s a number inside where you can reach me. When you've retrieved him, call that number to confirm for further directions. Do you understand?”

  “Wait; a second ago you said all of you. You don’t mean him too, do you?” Bishop asked as he pointed to Willard.

  “Willard? Oh, he’ll be joining you.”

  “That’s not going to work for us, we work alone. He’ll only slow us down!” Bishop argued.

  “You don’t have a choice,” said Ian. “He will help you in any way he can and if you succeed, his debt is forgiven, but if you fail, his wife and daughter will join you.”

  “No!” Willard shrieked.

  “Even if you two wanted to escape, you’d get the blood of two innocent people on your hands. That added incentive will ensure your complacency.”

  “You are a cruel man,” said Rook.

  “Life is cruel,” Ian answered. “Now, get out of my sight.”

  Chapter 3

  Knightingale

  It was noon, and the city was booming. The streets brimmed with people walking about on their daily routines. The sounds of car horns blaring and the buzzing movements of the people echoed off of the large buildings. Rook didn’t get much sleep, having so much on his mind. Being forced into doing a job was not the ideal way he wanted to spend his summer. He and Bishop stood on a corner, staring up at a large building across the street. Sunlight reflected off its rectangular windows, holding their hands above their eyes to protect from radiant light. Willard walked from an alleyway behind them and stood next to them while eating a candy bar.

  “You finished making your phone call, Thief?” Bishop asked, his attention not moving from the building.

  “Yep, I’m all done,” Willard answered. “So, what do you two think?”

  “It’ll be tough,” said Bishop. “It’s early in the day, it’s open and there are lots of people around, innocent people. The Knightingale Hotel is busy around this time. Not the ideal setup for our current situation.”

  “We could wait until nightfall,” Rook suggested.

  “No, time isn’t on our side. We have less than ten hours to get this done and finished with the psychopath and the thief here.”

  Willard paused before biting into his candy bar. “Hey! If we’re working together on this, I’d appreciate you calling me by mine name!”

  “We’re not working on anything together. Rook and I are working together. As far as your name goes, fine… Willard the thief. Is that better?”

  “You—”

  “There he is!” said Rook, grabbing their attention. For the moment he stopped them from arguing as their gazes followed Rook’s finger. “Eighth floor, corner patio.”

  A man exited onto the patio of an apartment and rested his hands on the short black railing that surrounded it. He was middle-aged with tan skin and his hair was short, slicked back and he wore a light blue shirt, blue jeans and black shoes. Looking aimlessly into the sky, dark sunglasses protected his eyes from the radiant sunlight.

  “For someone who’s hiding, he’s sure nonchalant and calm for a murderer,” said Willard, before taking a bite of his candy bar.

  “Good point, which tells me that his protection is nearby. They are probably in the apartments on either side of him,” said Bishop.

  “I take it that’s bad?” Rook asked.

  “Not really. It means we have to get creative,” said Bishop.

  “I think we should pull the fire alarm and empty the building causing panic… flush him out,” Willard suggested.

  “Well, I think you shouldn’t think at all!” Bishop snapped, his words dripped with sarcasm. “Leave the planning to us, Willard.”

  “Besides, even if you pulled the alarm, they wouldn’t leave until they confirmed the emergency. His protection team would be on alert and keep him on lock-down before doing anything and then we’re really screwed.”

  Willard threw his candy bar to the ground. “Hey, I’m the oldest one here, you two look like you could barely buy alcohol and you’re telling me what to do?”

  “Remember, you’re only here because Ian forced us to take you, Willard. And you’re right, I can’t buy alcohol, I’m only nineteen,” said Rook.

  “Just be glad we agreed to do this,” Bishop snapped. “If it weren’t for your family being threatened, we would have left you!”

  “That, coming from the guy who’s about to kidnap someone? Right, I don’t need you, I can protect myself and my family.”

  “Says the guy about to piss himself last night?”

  “I wasn’t—“

  “Enough already! He’s going back inside. We can argue later about who can do what, right now we have a job to do,” said Bishop before turning to them.

  “Okay then kid, what’s your plan?”

  “Bishop, you see that apartment below his? Seventh floor?”

  “I do,” Bishop answered looking to Rook who smiled.

  “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

  Bishop pondered hard and smiled back. “No, I’m not—I have no idea what you are thinking.”

  Rook sighed before slapping his forehead. “Jumportal. We jumport from the floor below into his room, grab him, jumport back to the floor below and take him outside.”

  “Hm, I think that could work, but what about him?”

  “Room service.”

  Bishop grinned ear-to-ear as he looked at Willard.

  “I don’t like the sound of this,” said Willard.

  “Did I really have to wear this thing?”

  “Yes, you do! We can’t have you walking around in acid-washed jeans, boots and a black leather jacket. That doesn’t scream room service. That screams hello I’m having a midlife crises and I’m here to kidnap you, now let’s go! Rook is waiting,” Bishop ordered as he pushed Willard into the hallway.

  Willard wore a white shirt tucked into black slacks. A burgundy vest covered his shirt and a bow tie around the collar to match. It was the customary uniform for all room service attendants at the Knightingale Hotel. An outfit Bishop found to look ridiculous, even more so on Willard.

  “What about you, is that fishing net really going to make you invisible?”

  “Do you look stupid wearing that outfit? Yes! Now go!”

  “I hate you,” Willard whispered under his breath.

  “Just follow the plan and get moving! I’ll be right behind you.”

  Willard pinched his lips together and continued down the hallway, pushing a cart with silver domes and glasses atop it. Several moments passed before he stopped at a door. Room 816. He racked his knuckles on the door and stepped back behind the cart.

  “Who is it?” asked a faint voice from behind the door.

  “Room service, sir,” said Willard in the best formal tone he could conjure.

  The door to the room opened halfway. It was Daniel Ortega and he no longer wore his sunglasses, revealing his brown eyes. He hid his body behind the door only poking his head through. “I didn’t order room service—what is this?”

  “Oh, uh—this is on the house, sir.”

  “Stuart didn’t say anything about free room service—where is he? He’s usually the one to bring me room service?” Daniel asked.

  “Um, Stewart had to take off—something to do with his mother in… Queens?”

  Daniel opened the door, sticking his head into the hallway. He looked left, then right before retracting back into his room, once again hiding behind the door. “Hm,” he considered. “And you’re sure it’s on the house? No funny business?”

  “I’m sure, sir,” said Willard, before an invisible nudge pushed him into the cart.

  “What the—are you okay? You seem a bit jumpy?” Daniel asked.

  “I’m fine, sir—just anxious. It’s my second week on the job and your food is getting cold and I don’t want to get in trouble for it being cold with it being my second week here and my family will be disappointed—“

  “Relax—just relax,” said Daniel. He opened the door and stepped aside. “Just bring it in and set it there.”