THE TAKEOVER - Part 4: The New Boss

Part 1 - The War Council
Part 2 - The Offer
Part 3 - The Armenian Dick Head


I woke up the next morning well enough. Sandra was there and thoughtful enough to have sent someone for some clothes for me. Apparently she had me followed, figured out who Abdulian is and asked the Russians to bring him and his crew in to answer some questions. Of course, her story explaining all this took a good hour when it could've taken a damn sentence. Fucking Sandra, no one cares.

I changed clothes, took a piss and sent one of the Russians out for bagels. Then I went to finally have that chat with Abdulian. He was tied up in a small room, the Russians had beaten him pretty good when they captured him. “The tables have turned,” I said to him, “last time I saw you I was beat up and tied up.”

“And are you going to feed me to your Russian dogs?” he asked.

“You’ve been selling RPGs to the Chinese, Abdulian. The Russians won’t like that.”

“The Chinese? No. The Chinese import their own weapons.” He seemed sincere.

“So they didn’t attack us with your weapons?” I asked.

“Uh… no.” His answer seemed cagy.

“What do you mean, ‘Uh...no.’?” I asked.

He sighed, “In the interest of self preservation, I will say this. Those were my RPGs, but I didn’t sell them to the Chinese.”

I believed him. I thought about the events of the last couple of days. All we had to go on was Ivanov’s assumption that it was the Chinese who attacked him. He’d been encroaching on their territory for months, it made sense. But an old gangster like Ivanov would have many enemies, anyone of whom could have blown up his house and office. “Who did you sell the RPGs to,” I asked.

He chuckled and bits of blood and phlegm shot out of his mouth and splattered onto his shirt, “I sold them to Ivanov two weeks ago.”

I was stunned silent. I believed him. But why? Why would Ivanov bomb himself? Or did he? Is he trying to start a war? Was one of his men behind all this? I fucking hate mysteries. I pondered my next question when in walked two large, Russians with two handguns. One escorted me out while Abdulian begged for his life. The loud gunshot and Abdulian's slow, gurgling death only confirmed my suspicions. Now to prove them.

I went back to Sandra and pushed her for an in with her handler or boss or pimp, whatever you call him. "Just set up a meeting for me. I think I can work out a peaceful way to end all of this."

"It doesn't work that way, Gene," she tried to tell me.

"The only way you and I survive this, is through your pimp."

"Will you stop calling him that? He won't just meet with you on your terms. I'll put in the message, but he makes the calls."

"Just call it in already"

She pulled out her cellphone and began dialing. Then she got a worried expression on her face. “It’s dead,” she said, “someone’s jamming the signal.”

“That would be me,” Ivanov said as he walked into the room looking remarkably un-comatose. There was an ugly Asian man with him, “Allow me to introduce my business partner,Kong Rui Bao.” They looked awfully chummy for two assholes who were supposed to be at war.

The world just turned upside down and took a steaming dump on my head. I just stood there staring at the buddy-buddy crime lords like an idiot.

“While the CIA and the local dick have been running around chasing ghosts, our men have wiped out the Italians, the Albanians and the Columbians. Vegas is now ruled by a single crime-lord,” Kong said

“And which one of you assholes gets to be the boss?” I asked.

They looked at each other and smiled. Ivanov was about to say something, but another damn rocket came crashing through the window and exploded at their feet. This time, there was no doubt, Ivanov and Kong were dead. Sandra and I climbed to our feet and looked through the shattered window in time to see a smiling Wayne Newton wave at us with a fully functional bionic-hand. Newton dropped the rocket launcher at his feet and climbed into his waiting limo. With a screech of tires, he was gone.

“Son-of-a-bitch!” Sandra and I said in unison.

“He planned the whole thing,” I said, “just to take over vegas.”

“Where did he get that hand?” Sandra asked.

I told her some mysteries are best left unsolved. She told me that she hoped she’d never see me again. Then we went our separate ways, but I had a feeling I’d bang her again someday.

The Enemy of my Enemy

I’d been laying low for a few months in Los Angeles. I hate that place. There had been some unpleasantness between Wayne Newton and myself and that monster has people all over Vegas. I crept back into town at dawn on a Friday. I parked two blocks over from my office and cautiously approached. Nothing looked out of sorts. No one was watching me. I entered the building. I expected my office door to have been kicked down, but no. Still locked. I opened the door and walked in quickly. Everything was in its proper place, my safe was still locked and hidden, even the candy stash in my top drawer was untouched. Not a second after I sat down at my desk and poured myself a drink someone knocked on my door.

I ducked behind the desk and pulled my piece before saying, “It’s open.”

The lights were still off in the office. As the door opened, I was greeted with the silhouette of a beautiful woman. Don’t get too excited, I cautioned myself, it could be a tranny. “Mr. Monroe?” said a distinctly feminine voice.

I pointed the desk lamp at her and turned it on, leaving myself in the shadows. Whoever she was, she was high class, Silk blouse, pearl necklace and a two hundred dollar pair of fuck-me-high-heels. I reached down and checked my boner... half mast. “Who sent you?” I asked.

"A man who wishes to remain anonymous. I can tell you that you and he share a powerful enemy and he believes you've proven that you can be a valuable asset to him," She handed me a large envelope. "Here's what you've missed since you left."

I opened the envelope without saying a word. In it, there was the profile of an MIT professor, some schematics and blueprints etc. and a large dossier on Mr Wayne Newton. Apparently, the fact that I had his hand hadn't slowed him down a bit. He hired a robotics expert to build him another. God damn it, I hate rich people.

“I don’t see a plane ticket to Massachusetts in here,” I said. “If your boss thinks I’m flying on my own dime-

“You won’t have to,” she said, “Doctor Ryder is flying into Las Vegas this afternoon.”

“That gives us time to get better acquainted,” I said as I unzipped my fly. A look of extreme distaste appeared on her face. She sighed and started to unbutton her blouse. I figured there was a fifty-fifty chance her boss had told her to keep me happy... no matter what. Lucky me.

That afternoon I headed to McCarran Airport disguised as Wayne Newton’s chauffeur. I had a meal and a drink in my belly and a fresh pair of panties in my pocket. I felt optimistic, maybe this would be the first case in... ever to go smoothly.

First, I had to deal with the real chauffeur. Some super glue on the all the toilet seats did the trick. Then, I waited by the terminal for the professor. After a few minutes, he finally came out. He was dressed like a nerd and I wanted to laugh at him real bad, but business had to come first. I tried questioning him while driving, but he was not a talkative fellow. So I let up and drove to the address given to me by... fuck what was her name again? I was just banging her... Sandra probably. Anyway, I drove him to a giant warehouse for questioning.

I was told to use whatever means necessary to get info out of him. I chose the hooker method. I had three hookers waiting there for us. I took two into the bathroom and left him in the office with the other, my most trusted hooker, the brunette. I instructed her to do him right and get him to talk about the mechanics of the new hand design. Apparently, he was too shy or weinerless to do her, so they just sat around talking about his hand design. Unfortunately, everything he said went right over her head and she could not repeat any of it back to me. So I was forced to move on to Plan B -

I walked into the office, pulled out my switchblade and stabbed him in the gut. “You wanna go to the hospital? Tell me how to stop the hand!” I snarled.

“Stop It? I don’t understand... I’ve been trying to tell the young lady, I’m years away from perfecting it. The robotics work fine, but there’s no way for the human brain to communicate with the hand. Please, take me to the hospital.”

“Why would Newton pay a pile of money for a defective hand,” I queried

“It’s not defective,” he said defensively, “It’s just not done yet. As for Mr. Newton, he seems to believe that money will make the process go faster.”

I thought it over. It made sense, Wayne always was the type to think he could buy anything. I sent the hookers home and helped the good doctor into the trunk of the limo. Just then, the power in the warehouse went out and I heard a helicopter flying low just above the roof. A spotlight shone in the windows. I needed to think fast.

I started up the limo, then I used a piece of 2x4 to hold down the gas pedal & kicked it into gear. It busted through the warehouse door and through the giant parking lot and right into the wall of the office building across the street. That kept their attention long enough for me to sneak out the back door make my escape.

I caught a cab & posted up at a shitty motel for the night. At 5:55 am, that Sandra chick came by to debrief me, both figuratively and literally. I gave up everything I learned. She handed me another dossier. This one was on a team of brain surgeons from India. "Indians... Why did it have to be Indians?" I asked. I tried to hide my extraordinary fear of Indians, but Sandra caught the look on my face.

"Fortunately for us, Mr Monroe, the Indians are staying in India for now," she seemed delighted in my weakness. "However we need to stop Mr Newton from making his way to them with the AG59781.”

"The what?" I grimaced.

"The bionic hand."

"Oh, yes. Of course. How do you intend do that?"

"His private jet is currently being prepped for departure. It appears he isn't taking any more chances. We have a man inside the airport who is going to slow that departure. Your job is going to be securing that hand,"

I thought about making a hand job joke, but I figured she wouldn’t laugh. By the time I got to the airport, Newton’s jet was already taxiing out onto the runway. I drove the Buick out onto the runway and floored it. “Come on girl!” I caught up to the jet and pulled along side. I could see Wayne’s smiling face watching me from the window. He wouldn’t be smiling once he saw my surprise.

I rolled down my window and grabbed a grenade from the box on the passenger seat. I lobbed it out the window and it exploded near the tail. Another by the landing gear. I kept hurling grenades. Finally, I got a little bit ahead of the plane and was able to hit the wing with a grenade. But the thing was still moving. And Wayne was still smiling! “Son of a bitch!”

I grabbed my last grenade and aimed it right at Wayne’s fat, smug head. I threw it with all I had. It bounced off the window and down to the ground. It blew under the front wheels and snapped them off entirely. The nose hit the ground so hard it broke the front 10 feet of the plane off completely from the rest.

I waited for it to stop skidding then I made my way in through the rather large opening I made. Wayne and the crew were all knocked unconscious. I found the hand in a black case and got back to my car before the ambulance pulled up. I knew my job was done so I sped off. Just then a bee flew into my car and stung me on the arm. Fucking Wayne Newton.

I called my contact to give her the news. She said her employer will be pleased. Also her employer had authorized a 24 hour security detail for me for the next two months. When I got back to my office, Sandra was there to meet me with a briefcase with $200 grand in it. I invited her in for coffee. She declined. It was still a good day.