Parabellum

By Mitch Goth

Jimmy Brigio has spent a decade avoiding his home town of Chicago and his mafia kingpin brothers who inhabit it. But when he gets the call that his sister has been kidnapped and is presumed dead, Jimmy returns to the Windy City to try and find her. But after an altercation with another powerful local mob, he finds he's too late. So now, with a bounty on his head and revenge on his mind, Jimmy is hell bent on bringing down the men who took his sister's life, and the lives of many others...even if he has to do it alone.

Parabellum is the first installment of the Brigio Series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mitch Goth
• Release date: Dec 15, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311615886

Mitch Goth

Mitch Goth currently resides in Yellow Springs, Ohio, where he attends Antioch College working towards his BA in Literature. When not writing, he spends his time investigating the paranormal and indulging in a good book or movie.

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Parabellum

Book 1 of the Brigio Series

By:

Mitch Goth

Parabellum

Copyright: 2013 Mitch Goth

Smashwords Edition

No portion of this book may be reproduced or reprinted in any medium, or by electronic, mechanical or any other means without the express written consent of the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real world events, people, products or places are used in a fictitious manner. Other characters, events, or places are products of imagination and any resemblance to actual people, places or happenings is purely coincidental.

Dedication:

This book is dedicated to one person in particular, you know who you are.

1

Jimmy Brigio stepped out of the crowded Midway terminal and cringed as the brisk November wind bit at his face. It was hardly the warm, dry air he’d gotten used to. His well-collected brown hair was pushed and shoved about by the movement of the icy air.

He let out a quiet sigh at the sight before him. There leaning against his coveted nineteen sixty-eight Pontiac GTO, was Jimmy’s kid brother, Marco.

Marco was trying his best to comb through his flowing black hair with his fingers, attempting to fix the mess the wind had caused. His gust-blown head was of no contrast to his dark sport coat and deep tinted aviators. Hardly the plain looking nobody Jimmy had left years earlier.

Jimmy! he exclaimed, taking quick, long strides towards Jimmy and giving him a tight, brotherly embrace. How’ve you been?

Jimmy had seen the depths of Chicago only once in the past ten years. He stopped in for a single day to attend their father’s funeral five years earlier. He’d tried his best for the majority of his adult life to avoid his hometown and his brother’s both.

But now, fresh off a twenty-hour flight, here he was again. Their sister, Anna, the youngest of the Brigio clan, had disappeared from this airport several days ago. He heard over the phone that she was already presumed dead. Jimmy wasn’t ready to accept that, not by a long shot.

Where’s Anna? Jimmy spoke quickly.

Anna? You think I know where Anna is?

Yes, Marco, I do.

Sorry to disappoint, Marco shrugged. We’ve been looking everywhere for her. Me and Mickey both.

Mickey too? Jimmy had high doubts their eldest brother would put in such a large effort personally. He had many people below him to do that on his request.

Even Mickey. Trust me.

I know for a fact nothing in this town can get past Mickey. Now you’re saying he can’t find our sister, his sister?

Times have changed, Jimmy. The business isn’t what it used to be anymore.

So what, Mickey’s cronies can’t go around crushing shopkeeper’s heads in for a cut of their profits anymore? Don’t bullshit me, Marco. From what I hear the Chicago mob is still very much alive.

Well you’ve heard wrong. Either way, Mickey’s trying to legitimize, we don’t have the resources we used to. Now come on, I’ll take you to him and you can ask him yourself, Marco gestured toward his car. He seemed hurried.

I was hoping to get a rental.

Fine, I know a nice place to get a car on the north side, Marco wrapped around to the drivers side and continued gesturing for his brother to follow.

Jimmy strolled over to the passenger side of the car in a steady, march-like gait. His years in the army taught him to move surer than anyone else. He didn’t have any luggage with him. His plan didn’t involve staying very long.

Why so nervous, Marco? he wondered as he got into his brother’s vintage vehicle. He’d noticed Marco had spent much of their reunion searching around the area, as if he was watching for somebody. Or somebody was watching for him.

Why’d it have to be Midway? Marco replied, wasting no time getting the car rolling.

Because that’s where the plane took me.

You know O’Hare is a much better airport. Much more reliable, you know? Marco’s words came out swiftly. And, on the plus side, I won’t get shot at O’Hare.

You’re not going to get shot at Midway either.

Oh, yes I will. And the killer will have good reason. The south side ain’t our territory. North is where I should be, north is where O’Hare is!

You’re telling me you live your whole life in half of Chicago?

Yes, because it’s safe up there! I work up there, Mickey works up there, there’s nothing but good to be had on the north side!

Calm down, Marco. You know Anna probably never had to worry about what side of the city to stay on. The joys of being a civilian I suppose.

You’re right, she never did. And look what happened to her!

Jimmy shot his brother a troubled look.

Marco, calm down, he said again in a stern yet collected tone.

I’m sorry, Marco sighed, I just hate being on the south side.

Jimmy accepted his brother’s apology with a nod as he turned to watch the road. It felt like ages since he’d laid eyes on a paved street. This one had its share of potholes, cracks and discolorations, but it was better than dirt.

Just then, Jimmy spotted something scurrying across the street. Without thinking he grabbed firmly onto the wheel and jerked the car partially into oncoming traffic to avoid the tiny critter. Car horns blared, Marco’s included.

What the hell is the matter with you? Marco straightened his car out and shoved his brother’s hand off the steering wheel.

There was an animal in the road, Jimmy replied.

That was a rat, Jimmy. There’s a ton of them here. Definitely not worth steering me into traffic for. You’re a citizen of Chicago, be prepared to kill a few rats.

I’m not a citizen of Chicago. My ID says Israeli, I say Israeli.

Your ID can say whatever it wants, you were born here.

Lucky me.

What would dad think about you talking like that? He loved this town.

He loved what he loved, but he still understood why I left.

You know I never wanted you to be a part of this business, Marco said almost solemnly, not by any means.

Well, like it or not, everyone lumped me in with you and Mickey. But thanks for trying.

I did try. That’s more than Mickey could say.

I know, Marco. I said thank you, and I meant it. I always mean it.

Jimmy opened his door before the car had even stopped, stepping out just in time for the brakes to fully kick in.

You remember how to get to Mickey’s? Marco inquired.

I’ll find my way. Don’t you worry.

Marco gave his brother a small wave and drove away, leaving Jimmy standing before line after line of seemingly identical vehicles. The rental company hardly looked like the ‘nice place’ his brother described. The cars had years on them, and dents and dings accented many of their fenders. The building at the center of the lot looked as if were pieced together from random cuts of sheet metal. But it was on the north side all the same, which made it a nice place to be. In Marco’s eyes anyway.

Jimmy paid what he saw as a grossly small amount for his car and got the keys to an almost sickeningly bland sedan. White exterior, tan interior, four black tires, air conditioning, and an engine. It was the whole package. The only bit of extra luxury Jimmy could spot was a tiny display on the rearview mirror that had a digital thermometer and compass. Thirty degrees it read, he doubted it, and pointing east.

As he rolled the egg-colored car out onto the road, Jimmy couldn’t help but look up at the little display once more. Twenty-nine degrees, and south. He looked at the road before him, he could head back to the airport right now and avoid seeing his eldest brother for another five years perhaps. But then he thought of Anna. He had no clue where she could be, but he was certain Mickey knew. Nothing in Chicago gets past Mickey Brigio.

2

Jimmy stood contently in the large, open den of his brother’s home. He stared over at the fire roaring in the large stone fireplace for a long time before his eyes were drawn upward to a short shotgun placed decoratively on the mantle. It was a lupara, a common weapon of Italian mobsters back in the day. It looked like it’d seen its days in action. But knowing Mickey, Jimmy figured it still worked.

Mickey had always been an avid gun enthusiast, ever since they were kids. And now Mickey’s house was strewn with them. Guns big and small, new or old, and everything in between; the only thing in common they all had was that they all were still functional, Mickey had always made sure of that.

Jimmy, Marco appeared in the doorway and waved him back to the study.

Jimmy followed his brother back into the small office. The room was dark and secluded; the thick wooden shades were closed, letting only a dim glow of late day through. Mickey was standing behind the desk, seeming to be in a deep thought of some kind.

Mickey was a tall, well put together person. He walked, talked, and spoke with an unmatched sophistication and distinction. His partially graying hair only accented his upper class look and demeanor. The sharpness of his suit and his dominant jaw line gave off the essence of immense power.

Also in the room was Lathrop Doc Sherman, Mickey’s consigliere, who was sitting in a tall, leather armchair with a glass of brandy and his cane beside him. He was a short, aging man with more wrinkles on his face than hair on his head. He’d gotten the nickname Doc Sherman due to his doctorate degree in business, not to mention a masters in law, both of which were more than helpful in Mickey and Marco’s profession.

Jimmy, Mickey said with a soft smile, coming around from the desk and giving his brother a hug, it’s so wonderful to see you again. You remember my friend Lath, don’t you? He aimed his hand to his partner in the chair.

Yes, I do, Jimmy nodded at Sherman, who politely returned the gesture. Jimmy had only met the man once before on his last return home. He only spoke a few sentences to Lathrop on that day, but that was all it took for him to know he despised that man, for reasons even he didn’t quite understand.

For a few moments after that, all went quiet in the study. Mickey, Marco and Sherman each knew that Jimmy was the kind of guy who’d want to get down into the heart of the matter as quickly as possible, and for good reason. They were more acquainted to beating around the bush, as businessmen do, but seemed to be out of gentle greetings to hum around.

Well, Jimmy had quickly grown impatient with the only noise in the room being the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner, Where’s Anna? No matter what Marco said, Jimmy was certain Mickey knew.

Look, Mickey replied, before we say anything, I want you to know that there’s nothing we can do now. What’s done is done, understand?

Yeah, Jimmy shrugged, eager for an explanation. He fought away a small smile. He was right, Marco was wrong.

You remember Rico Terez, right? Mickey wondered.

Rico The Rican Terez, Jimmy nodded, I remember hearing that name once or twice. Jimmy had, in fact, remembered a lot about what he’d heard about Rico The Rican throughout the years. He was Mickey and Marco’s main ally from their workings in Los Angeles in the nineties. But when it all came to Chicago, their friendship fell apart and both sides have been at each other’s throats ever since.

Wars happened on and off between the years past. Although now it seemed things had begun to calm down in the world of Chicago-land. The Eisenhower Expressway split the city nearly perfectly down the center for them. The north side went to Mickey, Marco and Doc Sherman, while Rico and his associates got the south side. A peace was there, but the line was fine.

Another thing Jimmy happened to remember about Rico was his nickname, he was one of those people who loathed the nickname he’d received. Rico was born and raised in El Salvador, but in the early days of their rivalry Marco had given him the name to instead make people believe Rico was, rather, from Costa Rica. And it caught on very heavily, which infuriated The Rican to absolutely no end.

Well, Mickey tried to explain, she got picked off at Midway Airport.

Picked off? Jimmy looked confused. What the hell does that mean? Just say kidnapped, I already know what happened.

Kidnapped, right, Sherman said. Nobody in the room liked using that word.

Wait, Jimmy was blown back by this realization, Rico Terez kidnapped Anna?

Yes, Mickey nodded, his voice solemn.

And you’re not doing anything about this? Jimmy became livid, I thought shit like that was supposed to start wars, Mickey! Where’s your guys grabbing guns and shooting up the streets?

We’re going legitimate, Jimmy, we can’t afford to start a war in this transition period.

Well if you’re going legit, call the cops! That’s what legitimate people do after all.

We’re not in the business of cops, Sherman protested. And besides, Rico’s got just about every damn cop in town on his strings. We can’t trust a single one of them.

You’re not in the business of cops. You’re not in the business of war. What the hell are you in the business of then? Jimmy exclaimed.

Money, Sherman replied simply. We do what’s profitable. Wars cost a lot, and police involvement compromises profit of any kind, legitimate or otherwise.

So, Jimmy addressed Mickey, you’re going to let our sister die, so you and Doctor Mengele here can make a buck, He swung his hand over to gesture Doc Sherman’s way.

That’s not fair, my doctorate is business, Sherman corrected.

Fine, Jimmy scoffed, I guess you’re just Hitler, He turned back to his brother. You can’t honestly stand there and tell me that you think this guy is right. That’s your sister out there!

It’s either do nothing, or end our turn towards legitimacy as well as bankrupt ourselves by starting a war we can’t win, Mickey said.

How can you be so sure you can’t win it?

Because The Rican has made no attempts to push legitimacy whatsoever, Marco answered. That makes him and his operation a lot stronger than us.

So we just let our kid sister get kidnapped by a bunch of psychopaths, and that’s it? Jimmy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. What do they want her for anyway? Ransom?

I was hoping he wouldn’t ask that question, Sherman said softly, refilling his snifter.

Why not? Jimmy gave a look of puzzled worry to everyone in the room.

Not ransom, Mickey’s head was facing the floor.

Well then, what? Jimmy was beginning to fear the answer he was seeking.

Do you know what human trafficking is, Jimmy?

Son of a bitch! Jimmy was instantly filled with rage, You bastards know that our sister is going to be sold on some black market, and you still sit here and don’t give a fuck about it? What kind of people are you?

People who think about the future, Jimmy, Sherman replied, sounding as bureaucratic as a person could possibly sound.

Shut the hell up, Lathrop! Jimmy commanded.

We can’t do anything, we already told you, Marco explained. You know we would if we could, he spoke with sincerity in that instance. Jimmy could hear it.

Well if you guys aren’t going to do anything, I will, Jimmy exclaimed, Where is she?

Excuse me? Mickey didn’t know how to respond.

I know you know where she is. And I know a human trafficker’s goal is to keep the person the kidnap alive for a while. So where is she?

I’m sorry, Jimmy, we can’t start a war.

Enough with this war bullshit! If there was anytime in the history of your lives to take up arms, it’s right now!

It’s been four days, Jimmy. Either she’s out of the country already or she’s dead.

Don’t you stand there and lie to me, Mickey. I’m going out to find our sister whether you help me or not!

It’s the truth Jimmy, trust me. We know how this works; we’ve seen it ourselves. At most someone’s got forty-eight hours and it’s been twice that time.

And besides, what are you gonna do exactly? Sherman added, The big time soldier, the hardened war veteran. What are you gonna do? Mister lawful is just gonna walk through the south side and kill his way to finding his little sister?

Yes, Jimmy said sternly.

Bullshit, Sherman laughed a raspy cackle.

Watch me you old bastard! Jimmy snapped.

You’re quite the reactive fellow, aren’t you? You don’t even have a gun to hang at your hip, and you want to take on the whole South Chicago outfit? Sherman laughed harder.

Don’t believe me? Give me the address of the place. I know you know it. Let me prove you wrong.

You really wanna come up and play with the big boys? You think you can handle that? Sherman grinned, pulling a small piece of paper out of his pocket and snatched up a pen, scribbling a few numbers and words on it, This is the address of a warehouse in Cicero. Go there and lets see those big words in action.

Jimmy snatched the paper from Sherman’s hand and bolted from the room without another word.

Lath, what the hell? Mickey said. He’s going to get himself killed!

Yeah, Marco agreed, don’t you think we’ve lost enough of our family already?

Don’t you two get it? Sherman was still chuckling slightly, "The only reason Anna got picked off was because not one of Rico’s guys had seen her before in their lives. Do you think if they knew that was your kid sister they’d have done it? No. Rico wants a war just as much as we do. Nobody, not even that sociopath wants to go out of their way to lose money. And all of the upper level south side guys know who Jimmy is, they know he’s your brother,