The Time for Talk is Over

Tommaso

I patted Stan on the shoulder outside what used to be the Devil’s Playground. Sometime in the last ten years, it had been abandoned, and weeds grew around its red façade. Stan nodded at me. We hadn’t bothered with the cop ruse, just masks like when we hit Phil Sinatra, and the couple of guys Stan could muster on short notice milled around us.

A dark car pulled up behind me, and I whirled as Killian climbed out with a few of his guys.

“You’re an idiot,” he said by way of greeting.

“I’m saving lives,” I replied.

“You’re leaving witnesses.” Killian gestured at the sparsely populated street. Most of the buildings were industrial or garages like this one, but there were a few houses.

“Every cop in town is in one of our pockets, and any civilian around here probably has more than enough reason not to ask the cops to come looking.” I pulled on my mask. “Are you in, or are you out?”

Killian sighed and pulled out his own. “I’d have called if I were out.”

Stan tried to hand me a walkie-