Guilty Notes: A Hitman's Tale

As Tommy turned the corner, he realized he was being followed. Security had been heightened for a few days anyway, but that was because some of Don Giovanti’s men were being targeted by rival gangs and smaller factions trying to create a reputation for themselves. Even though he refused to be associated with this group of men, he knew well enough to stay away; as far away as possible, but even now he knew that was going to be impossible. When Giovanti wanted to see you, he would have you brought to him one way or another.

Tommy turned down a side street when he noticed a goon following him. Now he stepped up his pace, not to let the guy know Tommy had spotted him, but in a way that made it seem like Tommy realized he was late for something. He knew if he could just make it a few more streets up, Tommy would make it back to the crowded plaza of the shopping center. From there he knew he could disappear or get rid of the problem permanently.

As he got closer, Tommy could hear the voices and noises of the busy shops nearby. Just as he started around another corner, almost home free, a man in a plain suit came out of nowhere. Before he knew it, Tommy had a bag over his head and was being thrown into a vehicle. He didn’t even try to fight; he knew they outnumbered him.

The drive took less than five minutes. As the car came to a stop, Tommy’s heart sped up even more than it had when they caught him. Why was he here? What had he done to upset Giovanti?

A gruff voice told him to get up from his spot on the car floor, but that was hard with his hands zip-tied behind his back. With a frustrated and hurried sigh, the voice helped him out of the car and on his feet. They didn’t take off the bag until he was inside, but it wasn’t necessary. They did it because they were overly cautious, and Tommy didn’t blame them, he would do the same thing if people were out to kill him too. There was no need though, everyone knew where the gangsters spent most of their time and this was it: the country club. Everyone knew, but no one said this is where everything took place; all the murders, all the shady deals, all the crooked plans, and now apparently Tommy’s resting place. They came in through a service entrance and pulled off the bag over his head, and he knew from the kitchen they were standing in because Tommy had worked in here last summer.

As soon as the back door of the kitchen closed, one man pulled out a switchblade. Tommy silently begged his maker to spare him. Tommy turned pale as the man got closer and closer, closing the gap between him and life. He started to sweat and shake. Tommy closed his eyes and tears fell.

“Jesus, relax kid,” the man said as he sliced through the zip-tie holding Tommy’s hands together.

Tommy cried out in relief, and the men laughed mockingly. The fun and games were short-lived as they turned him around. He was standing in front of Angelo Giovanti.

He was a short, fat man with a bald spot beginning in the middle of his head. Even though the Don seemed nice and sweet, like an uncle who spoils you at Christmas, he was the exact opposite. The man had no family, no friends, and many, many enemies.

The Don was in the middle of making something and before Tommy could muster up the courage to say something, Giovanti slammed down a knife effectively cutting the head off a fish.

“Tommy!” he almost growled, in a deep raspy voice full of excitement as he turned to face his guest.

“You know my name?” Tommy asked, as dread mixed with the butterflies in his stomach.

“Are you kidding?!” he laughs. “I hear about you all the time. Tommy did this, Tommy did that, I can’t believe Tommy ain’t one o’ us. You’re a legend.”

Tommy could tell that it was all flattery and very little truth, but he was too afraid to correct the most powerful man in the town, let alone state and country. Instead, Tommy stood there and smiled sheepishly, hoping that the Don would accept this as a positive interaction.

“Tommy… I got a favor to ask of ya. I know you’re a busy man, but I also know that you are wise enough to not betray me, and I need a man on the outside to help me out. Whaddaya say?”

“I-” Tommy began, but then stopped. If he said the wrong thing, would he be murdered right here on the spot? Did the Don know what he had been up to behind his back? “What do you need me to do?” he finally asked after pondering his chances.

“It’s not what I need. It’s what you need. I heard you ran into some loan shark problems and you need fast cash. That right?”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” Tommy whispered. Of course, the Don knew all the in’s and out’s when it came to the dirty dealings in the city.

“I’ve got a proposition for you. You hold on to something for me and I’ll loan you the cash you need to pay off all your loans. For now though, I’ll give you 20 grand up front.”

“What? What am I holding on to for you?”

“Nothing much. It’s the easiest job in the world. You just gotta sit on a little black notebook for me and all your money problems are gonna ‘poof’ disappear,” he used his hands to emphasize the word ‘poof’, but instead of making it seem amazing, it just reminded Tommy of the kind of man Giovanti was and how easily he could disappear.

“Why me?” Tommy asked with a lump in his throat.

“Because no one will look at you,” Giovanti said, all playfulness gone from his voice.

Giovanti pulled a tiny notebook out of the pocket of his slacks like he’s getting ready to hand over hundred-dollar bills at Christmas. He’s hesitant but ready to be rid of the “problem”. And it obviously is a problem if he doesn’t want to be caught with it.

“What’s inside?” Tommy asks timidly.

“None of your concern. Take it somewhere an’ bury it til I ask for it back,” he waved a dismissing hand as he passed it to Tommy.

One of the goons grabbed his shoulders and spun him back toward the staff door. Speechless and slightly stunned at what just occurred, Tommy allowed himself to be guided back to the car.When he sat down, he stared blankly at the notebook in his hands. It was no bigger than his hands and easy to conceal in a pocket. Tommy thought about opening it, but knew better in front of Don Giovanti’s men. They shoved a bag over his head again, but this time forego the zip-tie.

They took him straight home and instructed him to hide the notebook somewhere immediately and make sure it’s not somewhere obvious. Tommy internally groaned. He knew getting caught with whatever information is inside this notebook, would get him in just as much trouble as the mob.

Tommy rushed into his apartment building and closed the door behind him. As soon as the door latched, the quiet was ominous, so he rushed up to his apartment as nonchalantly as possible to avoid suspicion from wandering eyes.

When he was safely behind his closed door, he couldn't resist anymore. He opened the notebook.

At first confusion flooded Tommy’s mind, the notebook was blank. Or at least it appeared to be blank.

Maybe it’s written in invisible ink, Tommy thought to himself. Oh well. I guess I’ll never know.

He tossed it on the table and went about the rest of his day as if this morning was a dream. Soon enough night fell and Tommy passed out on the couch while watching T.V. The next morning, the police tape off Tommy’s apartment.

The little black notebook was found open to the middle and written in Tommy’s blood were the words, “He knows what he did.”