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Faro’s Ring
Part One
By: Samuel Hayne
The sounds of
impatient, angry fists hammered at the door. It startled him, but the dark
wood door which was steel reinforced, was locked. Nick knew he was
untouchable until someone with a key showed up. He removed several unopened
bottles from Faro’s collection of fine, rare liquors, opened them and drenched
the three bodies with the expensive alcohol.
“Nothing but
the best, eh, your Highness?” Nick chuckled. He took a swig from one of the
bottles of dark liquor.
“This is for
you, my brother.” He pointed at Oded. “Hope your life is richer on the other
side,” Nick said and poured the last of the brandy into his dead friend’s
open mouth. The office was garishly decorated with any kind of papyrus,
sarcophagus, or statuette that Faro could get his hands on. As a final
spit-in-the-face to his former employer, Nick made sure to douse with
alcohol as many of the cheap, tasteless Egyptian replicas his boss had
obsessively collected during his scandalous life. Nick wanted to see them
burn. He strolled up to Faro’s body and looked down on the handsome, dark
face, which held an expression of unbelievable
horror.
“You always
underestimated how good I was, you old bastard.” Nick reached out to the dead
man, and careful to avoid the blood splatters, reached into his boss’ jacket
pocket. He pulled out an expensive alligator wallet, fat with cash. Without
examining the contents, Nick shoved it into his back pants pocket. Taking a
pen and paper from the desktop, Nick drew a crude fish that looked more like a
figure eight than a river bottom swimmer. Using a paper clip from Faro’s desk
he attached the drawing to the dead man’s jacket.
“It's a
Sicilian message," Nick said aloud, just in case the body was curious. "It
means Luca Brasi sleeps with the fishes.” Nick took a smoldering cheroot from
the marble ashtray on Faro’s desk. He drank in the pungent smoke, letting
the harsh nicotine of the tobacco burn his lungs before blowing it in Faro’s
face.
“Vaffanculo!”
Nick flicked the cigar onto Faro’s lap. Orange flames immediately leapt up,
consuming the white shirt. The only window out of the office was unlocked and
Nick easily slipped unseen into the San Francisco
night.
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