Dark Soul: The Complete Collection by Aleksandr Voinov

Author:Aleksandr Voinov [Voinov, Aleksandr]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Riptide Publishing
Published: 2014-10-03T00:00:00+00:00

Voices woke him, and Franco slid into a T-shirt and training slacks before he left the bedroom. Silvio was already up, the bed not even warm anymore. He opened the door, and the voices muted for a moment.

Stefano Marino. He’d almost expected him. “Morning.”

Marino smiled at him. “Good morning, Franco. Look what I brought.” He gestured to the breakfast bar where Silvio was assembling a Bushmaster with the casual grace of a seasoned warrior.

Franco padded to the fridge, found a stupidly large container of orange juice and poured himself a glass. Nothing like vitamin C to wake him up. Also, the stuff was near-unaffordable in Djibouti.

“An associate of Augusto’s owns a large tract of land not far from here. If you want to do some hunting and training, that’s the place to do it.”

“Anybody using it?”

Marino shook his head. “I took the liberty of having him tell his associate to stay off the land.”

Associate—lowest run in the mafia ladder. Just one of many small favors that might get that associate “made” one day. If he was lucky. Or unlucky, depending on how you saw it.

“You can use the house, too. Not much more than a hunting cabin, but should be more comfortable than camping.”

“I like it,” Silvio announced. “What about the car?”

“The car should arrive at the location during the day. If you need any modifications done . . .”

Pulling out some spare seats and sawing a hole into the back of a van—and camouflaging it—was Crafts 101. “I can do that.” Franco glanced at Marino, wondering how the man responded to being interrupted.

Marino merely shrugged, though, and lifted his hands. “I’ll leave that to the pros.”

Franco looked at the rifle, then to Silvio. “I’ll need some tools.”

“We’ll get the stuff.” Silvio offered him the rifle, but Franco shook his head. Plenty of time for that later, and no need to posture with them. He liked to familiarize himself with the tools of the trade when he was alone, just him and the real, non-negotiable facts of life and death.

“How many targets are we talking?”

“We’re at war, Franco.” Marino crossed his arms in front of his chest, but as usual, Franco’s eyes focused on the blemishes on his face, the discoloration under his eyes from the broken nose, the fading purple stains under the skin that spoke of a more savage reality than Marino’s businessman and golf club exterior suggested. More real, more vulnerable, more mortal than he probably liked, but the suggestion of suffering and humiliation made him damn near irresistible.

“I don’t think we’re thinking the same numbers when we use the term ‘war,’” Franco said mildly.

Marino’s eyes widened for a moment, then he laughed. “Well, gang war. Not . . . your kind of war. Maybe a dozen in total. We’ve already weakened them considerably, but we need to take out their boss.”

“Prominent citizen?”

“Not a citizen at all. Russian immigrant.”

“That’s lucky. Can’t imagine the police being too keen on digging up why he was killed.”

“They’ll work out the pattern.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.