Money Knows No Bounds

Chapter Eight

January 5th, 2020

1200 hours Eastern

Somewhere in Philadelphia

John walks down the side of the street wearing an old, dark red, and faded Aerosmith shirt with denim blue jeans. He adjusts the strap from his black messenger bag against his brown leather jacket. He passes by a few people here and there, all of them probably rushing back to work after stuffing their faces with a lunch that they only had five minutes to eat. The bag holds a dark blue folder that has the printouts of the email and attachment he made that night.

I hope the guys will understand why this job is a better choice than the one Steve talked about over the phone, he thinks.

He opens the glass door into the pub and blinks for a few moments, trying to adjust his eyes to the change in lighting. He looks around and finds the guys drinking glasses of cold beer and munching on some fries in a booth on the far left. He walks over to them, and Luke is the first to see him.

"So let me get this straight. One minute, Steve offers a job, and you say no. Then, like, 20 minutes later he calls me and tells me to meet up today because you have ANOTHER job? What the hell, dude?"

John sits. "Shut up, Luke. Right now is not the time for that."

He pulls out the folder and starts handing out copies of the email and attachment and sits there for a few moments as the guys read it over.

"..John, what the hell is this?" Steve asks as he looks up from the pages slowly.

"An email I got yesterday while I was asleep."

George tosses the pages down on the table. "This guy can't be fucking serious. A mafia don?"

"Lower your voice for christs sake." John says, glaring over at him, then paranoidly looking around to see if anyone was trying to look over or listen.

"I'm just saying, this guy has to be joking. There is no way this is serious. Mercs don't get hired to do a hit on a mafia boss," George replies in a softer tone, looking back at the papers.

"Look, the guy used one of those one time use email address things, so we can't track him. Yeah, I think he is serious."

Steve looks up immediately, "Are you serious? Those still exist?"

John nods. "Apparently, and somehow, this guy talked to someone and found out what my email was. More than likely, an old client talked to them."

Luke chuckles softly. "I gotta hand it to you, John. This guy must know you hate the Phillies or something if he picked that particular venue for the drop off."

Bill looks up towards John. "You hate the Phillies? Why?"

John eats some of the fries. "Because of the damn assholes who cheer for them, and how horrible their stadium is. Why the hell do you think I hate them? I am a fan of a different team. Plus, the last time I went to that stadium, my fiance left me for the umpire. And guess what the asshole did the same day? Fucking proposed to her. SAME DAY!"

Bill looks down a little. "Ouch, I'm sorry about that, John."

John swallows down another handful of fries and a drink of Steve's beer. "Look, regardless of the venue, this guy has to be serious, and if he is, we are talking about a huge payoff for a simple execution."

George laughs. "Simple? Please tell me you are joking. This job will be anything but simple. I mean, do you know who this fucking guy is, John?"

John shrugs. "I have heard his name around and heard some news reports about him, but I don't know him personally or professionally."

George shakes his head softly. "This guy basically owns 75 percent of Philadelphia. His mob is THE mob group in this damn city. He has the cops, the mayor, the teachers unions, and even the fucking news outlets all under his influence. And the funny thing? Nobody knows what the fuck he looks like."

John raises an eyebrow in disbelief. "What do you mean 'nobody?' Someone has got to have a picture of him somewhere."

George just shakes his head. "Nope, he has all of his middle men take care of business matters. He is a paranoid one, but he is smart enough to completely stay out of the limelight."

Steve clears his throat. "Regardless of who he is, we need to decide if this payday is good enough for the job. Now me, personally? I think 15 million dollars is a damn good payday. I think I might even retire if we do this job successfully."

John sighs softly and looks at everyone. "Look, the bottom line is, if we do this and succeed, we are gonna have to move our operations to another city. Now, Sarah doesn't care too much for our apartment, and neither do I, but I need blunt answers right here right now. Do I go to the stadium tomorrow, and do we take this job?"

Silence runs through the booth for a few moments as John looks around at the guys. Everybody nods, looking at him.

He exhales deeply. "Okay. Let's meet up at the warehouse tomorrow so we can go through the information I get and plan this thing. I assume the mission will have to go down within the next week, so start making arrangements for moving and, possibly, funerals, gentleman." Everyone nods as John gets up from the booth.

"I'll call when I got the package and have looked it through to make sure there is actually stuff we can use in it." He drops a ten dollar bill on the table. "For the fries." He picks up the basket of fries and leaves the bar eating them.

"TAXI!" he says, holding a hand up aimed at the street. A cab slows to a stop in front of him, and he gets in.

"Where to?" the cab driver asks as he looks at John through his rearview mirror.

"Point Breeze, anywhere near the park." He replies as he eats a few more fries.

The driver nods and starts his cab meter as he begins to drive down the road.

The traffic is going to cost this ride a fortune, John thinks as he looks out the window, watching buildings and people pass by.