The Bank

Dan and Tommy sat in the executive office of the NY Federal bank on Wall Street. The math teacher and his bodyguard waited patiently for one of the bank’s officers to return with the settled paperwork for Dan’s accounts. When big money is involved, big banks want in.

“This is a nice office. It’s nicer than my place,” said Tommy, admiring the glass tables and expensive artwork adorning the walls of the suite.

“Banking is definitely a racket, isn’t it?” Dan said with a smirk.

“Yeah, it is. So um, you wanted me to tell you about Reyna Rai?” Tommy asked.

Dan spun in his plush seat, “Right! You mentioned her before, do you know Reyna Rai?”

Tommy shook his head, “Not personally. But I’ve heard things about her from other wiseguys. And I know about that little girl that Frank liked~”

“You mean Rica?”

Tommy snapped his fingers, “Yeah her! I think she’s Reyna’s daughter. And the two of them, they’re both, Rifle Girls.”

They’re what? Dan double took, “I’m sorry Tommy, what did you call them?”

As Dan asked the question the bank officer, an older black lady with coke bottle lenses, entered the office.

“Ok, Mr. Capra, we’re all set. I’ve shut down all of the extraneous accounts and consolidated your total balance to the NY Federal Bank, thank you for that,” she smiled.

Dan stood up and accepted the paperwork. “No problem, Ma’am. And uh. Right. So, no one can access those accounts anymore?”

“That’s correct. We’ve transferred the four million and closed those accounts. So they no longer exist,” she said.

“Excellent!” Dan grinned.

Phase two of his plan: Cut off all of the bad guys funding from Frank’s accounts, complete.

Ramp Entrance

Rocko picked Dan and Tommy up from the bank in a black Lincoln. As they entered the vehicle and drove off Tommy continued the conversation about Reyna, at Dan’s request.

“So wait, Reyna and Rica are, what did you call them? Rifle Girls? What does that mean?” Dan asked Tommy from the backseat. Rocko the driver snickered at the conversation.

“You guys talking about Reyna?” Rocko asked.

“Only what I know,” said Tommy, “Which ain’t much, but yeah, I was telling Dan that Reyna and Rica are uh... Female assassins, and real spooky, ya know?”

Rocko turned to Tommy with a puzzled look.

“What are you talking about, Tommy? Those chicks ain’t just assassins. No man they’re much worse than some gangbangers doin a drive by, fuhgeddaboudit! Those two girls are like-” He snapped his fingers trying to remember the words, “The Japs with the fuckin masks on!”

“Ninjas,” Dan deadpanned. “Actually, Kunoichi. Lady ninjas.”

“Exactly!” Rocko shouted. “Modern-day ninjas! Those broads infiltrate, gather information, and kill at the drop of a hat. Frank had a name for them-”

“The Killer Elite. That’s what Frank called them,” said Tommy.

“Yes!” Rocko agreed. “That’s exactly what he called them. I’m telling you, Dan. Unless Frank, God rest the dead, was exaggerating. Let me tell ya, that little girl Rica and her mom, Frank said they’ve whacked so many people that they’ve lost count!”

“Do you believe all that?” Tommy asked Rocko.

“I do!” He answered. “Come on, you saw what Rica did to Nikolai! I'm telling you, that guy was dead the minute that little girl walked in the warehouse. Tsk tsk, too bad for him.”

Dan sat back listening in deep thought as his two bodyguards argued semantics in the front seat of the car. They’re assassins, the killer elite, Rifle Girls. Redundancy expert my ass! Of course, Reyna’s a contractor, how the hell else would Rica be one? But are they that good?

As the trio reached the entrance to the highway overpass, a black van barreled toward the back of the Lincoln, until it crashed their back bumper.

“Hey what the fuc-” Everyone shouted inside the Lincoln as the van’s impact caused the vehicle to fishtail away from the highway ramp entrance, and into a dark parking lot.

“It’s an ambush! Rocko hit the gas!” Tommy yelled, jumping in the backseat to cover Dan.

As Rocko tried to speed away, the black van door opened, pulling up on the side of the trio’s Lincoln. In an instant, three men opened fire on the vehicle with full-automatic weapons.

Bullets tore into the Lincoln, sending glass and metal flying everywhere. More than one round struck Rocko in his head, neck, and body. Killing him instantly.

"Rocko!" Dan shouted, ducking down in the back seat. On instinct, he reached up and tried to open the rear door onto the other side of the car. His only thought:

I gotta get outta here!

The glass, the bullets, the metal smashed and tore into the car for what seemed an eternity. Tommy jumped on top of Dan in the back, as loose rounds cut through the big man's torso and arm.

“Crap, I’m hit!” he shouted.

Dan fell into the dip in between the seats, “Dammit, I gotta open this door!” he screamed while gunfire ripped the interior.

The door finally opened. And Tommy, still on top of Dan, pushed it wide while yelling, “Dan, run!”

As Tommy shouted Dan fell out backward on the other side. I’m out! He scrambled to his feet but hesitated. He couldn’t leave Tommy.

“Tommy!” Dan tried to pull the big man out of the door. But Tommy slapped his hand away and in full Italian yelled, “What’s the matter with you? Run!”

Dan tried to pull the bodyguard again, “Tommy!”

“Get out of here!”

The van swerved backward to get a clear view of the other side. Hearing the vehicle screech, Dan dropped Tommy’s hand, turned, and raced through the parking lot. And the men in the van opened fire again.

Brrrraaat!

Dan ran as bullets whizzed by him. Any second now and I'll feel the burn of a round, so I’d better jump!

And he jumped. More dove, behind a set of big parked cars. He hit the asphalt on his stomach and felt more glass land on top of him as the gunmen kept firing at him.

But after a second the shooting stopped, and the squealing of the black van tires burned the street as the assailant vehicle disappeared down the underpass. Sirens replaced the echo of gunfire.

Dan lifted himself, he’d ran almost a full block away from the Lincoln and the gunfire. From the south, police cars raced to the scene. As for Tommy.

He's alive.

Dan could see him, bloody but crawling out of the back seat. Cop cars swooping in. Dan wanted to run over and help him. No, not a good idea.

While all the commotion centered on the Lincoln, and a few police cars blaring in the direction of the fleeing shooters, no one saw Dan slip away.

Raggedy Man

A few minutes later Dan blended into the sidewalk traffic, away from the desolate harbor front and dark highway underpass. His heart raced as he hurried to a metro station.

This is a bad situation, and you want to play this game.

Catching his breath he calmed himself. “Don’t have any doubts, Dan. You knew this would happen even if you tried to flee the state or country with all that money. They know who you are, and you’ve been a marked man ever since that warehouse. So there’s no turning back.” That’s what he told himself, anyway. But as he walked along the busy New York sidewalk, he looked over his shoulder, and couldn’t stop shaking.

...