Killer Without Mercy: Thriller

By Jack Raymond

Killer Without Mercy: Thriller

by Jack Raymond

 

The size of this book is equivalent to 207 paperback pages.

 

When the star takes a real bullet during the shooting of an action movie, the investigation of Jesse Trevellian and his team begins - because it was not an accident, as it soon turns out.

An action star deeply involved in the machinations of organized crime, against which he always fought in his films, and a power struggle within the underworld - that's what Trevellian has to deal with in this case. And soon he is also on the hit list of the syndicates...

• Language: English
• Publisher: BEKKERpublishing
• Release date: Apr 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223845966

Book preview

1

New York 1997

John Mariano uttered a grim cry from between his immaculate white teeth. His face was a distorted mask. The restless gaze of his dark eyes slid over the crumbling facades of the dilapidated houses that were little more than ruins.

Mariano grabbed the huge flamethrower with both hands. The weight of this terrible weapon didn't seem to bother Mariano in the least. His shirt was nothing but rags. The sleeves had been torn out, so that Mariano's enormous muscles were clearly visible.

Cautiously, he put one foot in front of the other.

Brownish-yellow fog crept in thick swaths over the asphalt.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mariano suddenly perceived a movement. He whirled around. A black-clad assailant had jumped out of one of the building's entrances and jerked up his submachine gun. The barrel pointed at Mariano.

The attacker was masked. He wore a black balaclava, which only exposed the eyes.

Mariano's reaction was ice-cold.

A muscle twitched just below his left eye. At the exact moment when the muzzle flash of the submachine gun darted out like the hungry tongue of flame of a dragon, Mariano fired.

The jet of fire from the flamethrower caught the masked man with a hissing sound.

Mariano dropped sideways as several bullets whizzed close to him. They carved their unmistakable signature into the facades on the opposite side of the street.

The masked man cried out as the fire caught him. The force of the fire jerked him backwards and swept him against the wall.

Mariano, meanwhile, whirled around.

He reached for the sheath hanging from the side of his belt.

An oversized special pistol with an ultra-long barrel was inside. It could be used to send special explosive projectiles on their way. Mariano pulled out the gun and fired without aiming. The projectile shot out and whistled into one of the windows. A second later, there was a deafening bang. A huge explosion made the asphalt floor tremble. The wall broke apart for a length of several meters and a human body was thrown out of the building. The death scream was lost in the sound of the explosion. Heavy as a wet sack, the body hit the asphalt, where it remained in a strangely contorted position.

Stones flew through the air. Whole sections of wall broke off and slid into the depths.

A red sea of flames flickered out of the window. The heat could be felt all the way down to Mariano. Sweat stood on the forehead of the unusually muscular man. His dark hair stuck to his head.

He bared his teeth like a predator and then started a spurt across the street. Dark red flashed out of a window opening. Mariano fired his pistol. The explosive bullet did all the work as it flew through the window opening and detonated there. A scream mingled with the sound of the explosion. The gunfire died away. Part of the ceiling seemed to come crashing down.

Acrid, black smoke mixed with gray dust poured out of the building.

Mariano stood there completely frozen.

The sound of a single gunshot was lost in the din.

Mariano wavered.

His face was as rigid as ever. The eyes emerged from their sockets. No longer was there fierce determination in them, but...

Death!

A red dot was in the middle of the forehead and quickly grew larger. It seemed almost like a third eye that shed red tears.

Mariano slumped down. A second later, he was stretched out on his back.

John Mariano, better known to an audience of millions as 'The Beast Killer' was as dead as a doornail as the legion of his countless enemies he had made short work of.

2

I have in no way shown you this excerpt from the so-far completed footage of the latest John Mariano flick with the intention of giving you an example of exemplary crime-fighting, stated Mr. McKee, the chief of the FBI's New York District with the rank of Special Agent in Charge.

We sat in Mr. McKee's office and enjoyed the special aroma of the coffee that his secretary Mandy had brewed. A coffee that was famous throughout the FBI headquarters at the Federal Plaza for its special taste. It was a shame that we had to drink it from paper cups.

To my right, my friend and colleague Milo Tucker had taken a seat in one of the plain leather chairs with which Mr. McKee's office was furnished. Special Agents Orry Medina and Clive Caravaggio were also present and listened with interest to Mr. McKee's explanations.

Mr. McKee made a serious face. "As I assume you've all read the papers or watched the news at some point in the last few days.... So you know that the shot John Mariano got in the forehead was by no means a trick-technical masterstroke - but reality.

Someone killed him during the filming of his latest flick."

I heard about it, Orry spoke up. He was of Indian descent, had a dark complexion and was probably the best-dressed agent in the entire FBI district. His collection of silk ties enjoyed an almost legendary reputation.

Orry took a sip from his coffee mug, then asked, shrugging. I've been wondering all along why this should be a case for the FBI.

Formally, if only because John Mariano is a citizen of the state of California who was murdered in New York State, Mr. McKee explained. But there are some other interesting details that make the Mariano case our case. Mr. McKee turned off the projector. He took a deep breath and buried a hand in his pants pocket. You see, we now have the ballistics report. And it speaks a clear language. Mariano died with a weapon that was also used in two murders from the Mafia milieu. You can see the details in the report I've compiled for you.

Mariano was always said to have contacts with the Mafia, Caravaggio said.

He's Italian-American, Orry interjected. Of course, that makes him immediately suspect in that regard.

Caravaggio frowned somewhat angrily. The irony in his colleague and partner's remark seemed to have escaped him completely. Oh, yeah?

Caravaggio was flaxen-haired and looked like a Viking.

Nevertheless - his ancestors came from Bella Italia and therefore he reacted a bit sensitive in this respect.

Should be a joke, Orry said somewhat meekly, and moved the noble tie pin, plated with 585 gold, into position. A gesture of embarrassment on his part.

Milo said, Anyway, Mariano wouldn't be the first to rise in show business through connections to honorable society...

The first name that came to my mind was Frank Sinatra, whose connections to the Cosa Nostra had never been exactly clarified. Actually, I had thought that the times were over when a godfather made a Hollywood tycoon an offer he couldn't refuse in order to push some starlet. Apparently, they didn't.

Mr. McKee turned and walked to his desk. He returned with a couple of large-format black and white photographs, which he spread out on the table in front of us with a skillful wave of his hand. These men were killed with the same weapon as Mariano, Mr. McKee explained about them. People from the middle echelons of organized crime. General managers of well-run nightclubs used as money laundries or authoritative people in shipping companies involved in drug smuggling.

Always the same killer?, I muttered skeptically.

A professional, according to our findings so far. A silencer was probably used. The killer probably scouted his victims very carefully before he struck. He always knew exactly what he was doing. The attacks were planned down to the last detail. So well that he always found his victims alone. There are no descriptions of the perpetrator, no witnesses who could have provided any useful information. Only a bullet, almost always right in the forehead, a little above the eyes.... As for the assassination of Mariano, however, the killer seems to have had no time for careful preparation. There must have been about a hundred people on the film set. Everything was cordoned off by private security to prevent fans from disturbing their idol during the shoot.

The perpetrator took a pretty big risk, Milo said.

Mr. McKee confirmed that. The murder took place in front of dozens of witnesses, so to speak. Our City Police colleagues have taken statements from all of them who were at the scene at the time of the crime. These statements are, of course, available to you for your investigation. Unfortunately, there seems to be hardly anything that could provide a clue. The killer fired from the roof of a house. At first, most of those present probably didn't even notice that it wasn't a trick. They saw the explosions on the screen. With the roar, a single shot doesn't stand out.

No one saw the killer? asked Orry.

No, Mr. McKee shook his head. Even the security guards who searched the entire area didn't notice anyone who looked suspicious. Obviously, the killer cleverly used the chaos to disappear. How he stole onto the premises in the first place is a mystery to everyone. Perhaps he mingled with the packers who were unloading props on the set. In any case, he made it.

So the question is, who is this killer working for..., I stated. Because it's probably not safe to assume that he's on his own account.

You said it, Jesse.

So we have to look for more clues, Milo stated, making a little optimistic face.

At least we know the dead were all in the way of the Antonelli clan, Mr. McKee noted.

And how does Mariano fit into this line then?, I asked.

Not at all, Mr. McKee replied. There are more than rumors that Big Tony Antonelli made Mariano's film career possible in the first place, or at least very much encouraged it.

I looked at Mr. McKee frankly. You're hoping that in the end we'll not only be able to take down the wage killer who had Mariano on his conscience, but also cripple the Antonelli clan, I stated.

That's right, Jesse.

You are an optimist, I noted. So far, you've never been able to prove anything against the Antonellis. Nothing that can be used in court, anyway. Everyone knows they have their fingers in the drug trade, gambling, and some other illegal and therefore very lucrative industries, but when someone has had to jump the fence, it's always been the lower batches...

And that's been bugging me for a long time, Jesse! Mr. McKee now sat down in one of the dark armchairs as well. He crossed his legs. His face radiated determination. He gestured curtly at the photos on the table. If a Mafia godfather kills the middle batches of the competition, he may want to expand his territory. But, if he has a man like Mariano killed, there either has to be a damn good reason for it, or you have to doubt Big Tony's intelligence.

Possibility number two is probably absurd, Milo noted.

Mr. McKee nodded.

I agree with that. After all, in the case like John Mariano's, you can be sure that the investigation will be followed scrupulously by the media. This is not a matter that can be filed away at some point. The police, the FBI, the prosecutors none could afford to do that without facing uncomfortable questions. So there will be particularly persistent investigations. That's the nature of the business - and Big Tony can figure it out on two fingers. He's been in the business long enough to know this sort of thing...

Big Tony must be pretty nervous, I nodded.

And maybe he's making mistakes as a result, Mr. McKee added. After a brief pause, he added somberly, Something is going on that we have no idea about yet...

3

Milo and I spent some time in our shared duty room getting an overview of the facts. Our most important tool was the computer. Via a long-distance data line, we were connected in seconds to all the important archives and databases, including the FBI's central archive in Washington and the NYPD's databases.

In particular, of course, we were interested in all the available information that had been collected over the years about the Antonelli family. Big Tony had actually long since put his wild Sturm und Drang years behind him. At least that's what we had believed. There had already been rumors that the big boss wanted to withdraw completely from the illegal sector and invest his money only in clean business.

New York was a village - and Little Italy even more so.

At least, as far as the speed of spreading rumors and half-truths was concerned.

As far as information about John Mariano was concerned, our usual sources of information were probably rather unsuitable for this. He had never committed a crime, had never left his fingerprints on a gun that had been used to kill someone, and had come into contact with the police only once. Namely, when he had beaten up his first wife, and the neighbors had called the cops. But back then, John Mariano had not been a star, but a more or less unsuccessful actor who kept his head above water by appearing in commercials and taking the few dollars he earned from them to gyms.

Later, I read in a magazine that the use of anabolic steroids to build muscle had changed his personality and made him aggressive.

Strangely enough, this story, which had only started as a big lead story, was not followed up. The suspicion was obvious that someone might have had a hand in it. Someone whose offers could not be refused...

Milo and I scoured everything that could be found online on our screens in the way of press information, film archives or Internet pages of John Mariano fan clubs. At the time of his death, Mariano may not have quite reached the status Schwarzenegger, Bruce Willis or Van Damme have today, but the experts believed that he was well on his way to the superleague of badass heroes.

For the later afternoon we had arranged to meet Frank Jackson, the director of the last Mariano strip at the scene of the crime.

It was an industrial wasteland in Brooklyn, located very close to the East River. In good weather, the typical Manhattan skyline could be seen in the background. The buildings looked like a collection of ruins.

There were former office complexes here as well as warehouses.

An import/export company had had its headquarters, had gone into a tailspin and was now bankrupt. There was already a buyer for the site. Everything that stood here would be torn down. An ideal condition, in order to shoot here before still another action film, in whose process so much should blow up. The demolition squad would take over the cleanup.

When Milo and I arrived at the site in my sports car, Frank Jackson was already there. He wore glasses