Rimanoa

Vladimir Anderson

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Аннотация: Faust is the best hitman in the service of the Sicilian mafia "Cosa Nostra". While running a series of errands, he falls into a trap from which he miraculously manages to escape. And whoever tried to frame him may not be the only one threatening him as part of a criminal clan war. It appears to be the hunt for the Goat Nostra itself. *** This book is for those who are looking for temporary relief from the tedium of everyday life and are eager to dive into the world of a suspenseful crime thriller. The pages of this story have the power to stir your nerves and take you into a thrilling reality where bloody intrigue and brutality epitomize the confrontation between the mafia and justice. Follow Faust, the eternal wanderer, on his deadly pursuit and discover a world where truth and treachery intertwine in a dangerous game where every step can cost a life.

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29-09-2023, 16:58

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7:41 p.m. Aug. 18

"The Cherokee was moving at a decent speed, but we had only traveled the second block in ten minutes, and our destination was still nine minutes away, so at this rate our bodies could have arrived not in a torture chamber in New York, but in a grave in a cemetery (that's not a typo: there's one dug hole for all of us).

Lightning and I were in the back, Brosman was driving. The "buttoned up" was lying at my feet with handcuffs and a black plastic garbage bag over his head, obviously unconscious.

"Listen, Pierce. — I broke the silence that had reigned in the cabin a second ago. — We're only scaring the cows away at this pace."

"Well, what can I do… You can't see it yourself… That cab over there is going like an invalid."

According to my observations this cab "slowed" us down no more than ten seconds, so the excuse of the master of "cool stuff" was just an excuse.

"You step on the gas."

"Well, what can I do," — he punched the 'ram' with expression.

I turned to Amoramente, "Longe, do you know of any other road?" The one shook his head negatively.

"Things are bad for us, that's what I'll tell you…" Brosman muttered something again to the cabbie. My cell phone rang.

"Hello."

"It's Richard. — The voice was overly nervous, as if he'd been hiding from the flicks after a bank raid. — What did you do there? I just got word that all of New York is looking for you on charges of murdering four four people including two cops, fraud and torture.

Every cop in the city will have your sketch soon. In addition, our man at the FBI says they're also looking for you on suspicion of kidnapping a citizen named Cliff Skunkzor, nicknamed "Zipper"…"

"Yeah… Well, thanks, bye. — "after I turned off the phone, my voice got a little higher. — Get out of the way, you son of a bitch, and hurry up, or it'll be too late!"

Brosman didn't understand at first and was a little embarrassed after such a sharp attack on someone, but finally he thought of it and turned left to the underground parking garage we were passing by.