I just hope Peter truly has the answers we seek, and he's not fucking around with us.
A man comes out of the house who looks like he belongs in a Bond film as one of the villains.He’s tall with a bald head and wears full black.That’s not our guy. This is someone else.
Massimo walks ahead of us but we stop just before we get to the porch when the man holds up his hand.
“My cousin doesn’t want any trouble.I can’t let you go in with your guns,” the man states and Massimo smiles.
In an act of defiance and a statement of power, Massimo walks right into the man's personal space, looks him up and down, and instead of answering he continues into the house ignoring the request.I’m used to my brother doing things like that and I would do the same.Truth be told, I would have probably given a mouth full first then ignore his ass.
Idiot.
We all walk past him and into the house.
It’s big inside. Bigger than it looks on the outside, and there's a strong incense smell about the place that burns my nose.
We follow Massimo. Ahead of him is a hall.When we walk in, we see a man in a wheelchair by a large painting.The man has his back turned to us.
When he spins his chair around, I wince at the sight of him.
He’s got no eyes. His lids have been sewn together, and the whole left side of his face has been burned.He also only has one leg and one arm.
What I’m looking at is someone who's been tortured and set free as an example.
That's Peter Dawson. What little remains of his face resembles pictures I've found of him.
I can see what he meant when he said I'd know why he didn't ask for more money.It's because he can't enjoy it.
“That’s far enough,” he says, and we stop where we are.
“If it's all the same to you, can we take this into the living room?” Peter asks and Massimo nods.
We go into the living room next door where we sit on a large leather sofa and Peter places himself in front of us.
“Did you bring payment, Boss?” he asks, looking right at Massimo.I wonder how the hell he knows he’s the boss.
“You’ll get paid when you provide a service.You haven’t offered me shit yet,” Massimo replies.
“I suppose I haven’t, Boss.”
“How do you know who I am? The boss could be any of us.”
“But it’s not, is it Massimo D’Agostino?” He looks over to Aiden and nods.“Him. The Russian, he’s a boss.There's an air of authority in your presence.So the other two must be your brothers.”
“That’s very impressive,” Tristan states, but he’s not saying it like it’s a compliment.
“Relax, I wasn’t being offensive.” Peter chuckles.“When you’re like me, you’re other senses are all you have left.I pick up on certain things. Like you and you are leaders, and you and you support the leader.” He points to us respectively.
"Yes," I speak up. "If it's all the same to you, could we cut the shit and get to the point of why we're here."
"Yes, Dominic D'Agostino." Peter smiles at me and it's an eerie sight."Okay, so I heard you were looking for me.I knew this day would come after Alfonse died.I was just waiting."
"So you expected this?" Massimo challenges.
"In a way. I knew you could only be looking for me if you found something from Alfonse's files, and the streets are talking.They just aren't talking to you.Obviously." He laughs.
"How do we know you'll tell us what we need to know?"
"You don't. You just have to trust me."