One of the Wicked: A Mick Callahan Novel by Harry Shannon Page A
Authors: Harry Shannon
Tags: Fiction / Thrillers
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there, pretending to be cuddling? They're cops, Nicky. The broad works vice."
"I shall refrain from asking how you know that, Andy. Sit down and relax, please. I was almost finished anyway." Nicky snapped his fingers, and a waiter appeared from nowhere. "Check."
Mandel squirmed in his chair. He hadn't expected the police to be on to their arrangement, at least not so quickly.
"Relax, counselor," Nicky said. "It's not you. We're often followed and photographed. In our organization, we consider this a badge of honor."
Mandel focused on the fat, six-figure retainer again. What the hell . He leaned back in his chair.
"Do you know Shakespeare?" Nicky asked.
Mandel shrugged. "Not much call for him in law school."
"A man in our line of work should be wel rounded, Mr. Mandel. He should know his classical music, Shakespeare, some poetry. This is in order not to become an absolute barbarian." Nicky fixed his gaze on Andy, then Lucky, as if to say, You see what I have to put up with?
"Makes sense, Nicky. Where would you suggest I begin?"
"I enjoy the tragedies myself," Nicky said. " Macbeth, Othello, and Hamlet in particular. They are studies in human weakness."
"Mel Gibson did a Hamlet movie once, right?"
Nicky looked pained. "Please. Watch Sir Laurence Olivier's Hamlet, even the old BBC version with Christopher Plummer if you must, but not Mr. Gibson. That one was edited to shreds, just butchered."
Andy decided to chime in. "I saw some of that on cable," he said. "It's about a crazy guy wants to fuck his mommy."
Nicky lowered his gaze, studied the wine again. Some time passed. The three men with him began to perspire. When he raised his head his eyes were flat, his mood obfuscated. "It is about quite a bit more than that, actually. I should not expect you to understand, Andy. Shall we go?"
Mandel blinked. "Go where?"
"I thought you might want to take a run out past Moapa to see our new hotel and casino, Mr. Mandel. We're calling it Valley of Fire. After all, it will soon be your primary client."
A quick glance at the undercover cops. "But they'll follow us."
"Relax. They'll be taken care of." Nicky snapped his fingers. The sound made all three men jump. "Andy, go over nicely and have a chat with them. Lucky, you go outside and cut their tires."
The goons rose and left without looking back. Nicky smiled, shrugged. "Such morons must be good for something, yes? Violence is unpleasant, but one never knows when it may become necessary." His piercing eyes pinned Mandel to the chair, then a half smile caressed him with cool fingers. "To be candid, sometimes I feel like I am living in a Godfather film."
Mandel swallowed. "Can't imagine why." He started to get up, but Nicky waved a finger. Mandel sat.
"We still have a few moments," Nicky said. "Tell me about yourself, Mr. Mandel. What made you decide to practice the law?"
"My parents," Mandel said. He flushed, embarrassed by the involuntary honesty. "I got okay grades, but I was drifting. My dad was a police officer, and my uncle went through Special Forces and worked for the government."
"Special Forces? Impressive."
"I thought so. Those guys are tough."
"Go on."
"Well, in families like mine, you get pressure to be a cop, a soldier, a doctor, or at least a lawyer, and since I can't stand the sight of blood, I passed on the first three."
"Is that so? The sight of blood makes you queasy?"
"My own, anyway," Mandel said. He tried to grin. The big man did not smile back. The look in Nicky's eyes made Mandel shiver.
"Ha!" Nicky suddenly got it, laughed and looked around the room as if inviting everyone else in on a great joke. "My own! Ha! Go on, go on. About the law."
"I did really well on the LSAT, and got into UCLA. From there I went to Ross, Goldfarb and Kramer in Century City. I left there to work for Mr. DeMartini, which is how I met Mr. Pesci, and now I've been on my own for about a year."
Nicky nodded. "It is good to be king, no? I mean, to employ one's
"I shall refrain from asking how you know that, Andy. Sit down and relax, please. I was almost finished anyway." Nicky snapped his fingers, and a waiter appeared from nowhere. "Check."
Mandel squirmed in his chair. He hadn't expected the police to be on to their arrangement, at least not so quickly.
"Relax, counselor," Nicky said. "It's not you. We're often followed and photographed. In our organization, we consider this a badge of honor."
Mandel focused on the fat, six-figure retainer again. What the hell . He leaned back in his chair.
"Do you know Shakespeare?" Nicky asked.
Mandel shrugged. "Not much call for him in law school."
"A man in our line of work should be wel rounded, Mr. Mandel. He should know his classical music, Shakespeare, some poetry. This is in order not to become an absolute barbarian." Nicky fixed his gaze on Andy, then Lucky, as if to say, You see what I have to put up with?
"Makes sense, Nicky. Where would you suggest I begin?"
"I enjoy the tragedies myself," Nicky said. " Macbeth, Othello, and Hamlet in particular. They are studies in human weakness."
"Mel Gibson did a Hamlet movie once, right?"
Nicky looked pained. "Please. Watch Sir Laurence Olivier's Hamlet, even the old BBC version with Christopher Plummer if you must, but not Mr. Gibson. That one was edited to shreds, just butchered."
Andy decided to chime in. "I saw some of that on cable," he said. "It's about a crazy guy wants to fuck his mommy."
Nicky lowered his gaze, studied the wine again. Some time passed. The three men with him began to perspire. When he raised his head his eyes were flat, his mood obfuscated. "It is about quite a bit more than that, actually. I should not expect you to understand, Andy. Shall we go?"
Mandel blinked. "Go where?"
"I thought you might want to take a run out past Moapa to see our new hotel and casino, Mr. Mandel. We're calling it Valley of Fire. After all, it will soon be your primary client."
A quick glance at the undercover cops. "But they'll follow us."
"Relax. They'll be taken care of." Nicky snapped his fingers. The sound made all three men jump. "Andy, go over nicely and have a chat with them. Lucky, you go outside and cut their tires."
The goons rose and left without looking back. Nicky smiled, shrugged. "Such morons must be good for something, yes? Violence is unpleasant, but one never knows when it may become necessary." His piercing eyes pinned Mandel to the chair, then a half smile caressed him with cool fingers. "To be candid, sometimes I feel like I am living in a Godfather film."
Mandel swallowed. "Can't imagine why." He started to get up, but Nicky waved a finger. Mandel sat.
"We still have a few moments," Nicky said. "Tell me about yourself, Mr. Mandel. What made you decide to practice the law?"
"My parents," Mandel said. He flushed, embarrassed by the involuntary honesty. "I got okay grades, but I was drifting. My dad was a police officer, and my uncle went through Special Forces and worked for the government."
"Special Forces? Impressive."
"I thought so. Those guys are tough."
"Go on."
"Well, in families like mine, you get pressure to be a cop, a soldier, a doctor, or at least a lawyer, and since I can't stand the sight of blood, I passed on the first three."
"Is that so? The sight of blood makes you queasy?"
"My own, anyway," Mandel said. He tried to grin. The big man did not smile back. The look in Nicky's eyes made Mandel shiver.
"Ha!" Nicky suddenly got it, laughed and looked around the room as if inviting everyone else in on a great joke. "My own! Ha! Go on, go on. About the law."
"I did really well on the LSAT, and got into UCLA. From there I went to Ross, Goldfarb and Kramer in Century City. I left there to work for Mr. DeMartini, which is how I met Mr. Pesci, and now I've been on my own for about a year."
Nicky nodded. "It is good to be king, no? I mean, to employ one's