BIA Ch. 8

Chester, from the moment he got into the car, complained incessantly about being late for his appointment. When Manny stopped at yet another yellow light, he finally brandished a gun.

“If you stop at even one more yellow light, I’ll shoot you.”

“I won’t.”

Despite his words, Manny hesitated at several more yellow lights. Each time, Chester flew into a rage but stopped short of firing the gun. Instead, he mercilessly whipped Manny’s head with his pistol.

Because of this, Isaiah’s plan to calmly figure out who he was while in the car was completely thwarted.

If anything, he learned more about Chester. Chester rambled on and on, unprompted, about uninteresting things: how his grandfather was a high-ranking member of the Irish mob, even involved in the Jimmy Hoffa disappearance. How his mother, a former Miss Pennsylvania, was so beautiful she had once appeared in magazine ads. How he had inherited his mother’s good looks and had even received a business card from a modeling agency as a child and finally, how his dog, a Pit Bull Terrier, was named Agrippina.

“Yes, I understand, Chester. I know enough about who you are. So would you please tell me about me?”

“You? You’re just Isaiah Cole. Oh, right. Agrippina hates you. She barks and tries to bite you whenever she sees you, so you’re not allowed at our house.”

“Oh, is that really useful information?”

“Pit Bull Terriers are very jealous. They go crazy if they smell their owner on another person.”

Chester smiled, draping his arm around Isaiah’s shoulders. His words, like any good mafioso, were crude. Isaiah felt a surge of irritation, but reminded himself he was an undercover FBI agent and spoke calmly.

“So, what kind of person am I? I know your dog hates me, so tell me something else.”

“You’re, well, Isaiah Cole.”

Chester, seemingly disappointed by the lack of reaction, withdrew his arm with a sullen expression. Then, as if gleaning something from Isaiah’s gaze, he belatedly pulled out his cell phone from his jacket pocket.

“Just watch this. There’s no need to waste my breath explaining.”

Chester searched for something on his phone and then handed it to Isaiah. It was CCTV footage from a casino bar. A camera mounted on the ceiling captured the entire hold’em table, but the dealer was only visible from behind. The faces of the patrons sitting opposite, however, were clearly visible. Even so, it was difficult to distinguish them, as all three wore identical black suits and were similarly large and menacing.

Because of this, Isaiah’s attention was drawn to a man standing behind them. His slender frame in a black blouson jacket and his lithe movements contrasted sharply with the three bulky figures at the table. Furthermore, he was boldly wearing a balaclava^[1].

The man, conspicuously dressed, casually weaved through the crowd and approached the table. He pulled a pistol from inside his jacket and, without hesitation, shot the man in the middle in the back of the head. The man’s head exploded, spraying blood and brain matter everywhere. The two men on either side immediately jumped up, but the man in the blouson was faster. With incredible speed and precision, he shot both of them in the forehead. Blood erupted like a burst blood pack, and the two men collapsed, the backs of their heads partially blown off.

Inside the bar, as people panicked and scattered in all directions, the man calmly placed his pistol inside his jacket. And finally, he raised his head and looked at the CCTV lens hanging on the ceiling, as if making eye contact with whoever would review the footage later.

The moment his eyes met the man on the screen, Isaiah felt all the blood in his body run cold. Those eerily clear eyes contrasted with the sharp gaze. They were the same eyes that had been staring back at him from the mirror.

“You know why I told you not to wear that blouson jacket, right?”

Chester said, putting his arm around Isaiah’s shoulder again.

“It’s our establishment’s CCTV footage, so there’s no need to submit it to the police. But the witnesses have a pretty accurate recollection of your appearance.”

He took the phone from Isaiah’s stiff hand and started replaying the video from the beginning.

“It’s a shame we couldn’t broadcast this on the news. I guarantee it’s the best gangland killing of the 21st century. At this level, it should be considered art.”

Next to Chester, who was watching the video with an ecstatic expression, Isaiah thought, his face pale, even blue.

No matter how undercover I am… is it okay to kill like this? Even if they’re criminals in the Amman Mafia, is it permissible to kill them this way, disguised as a gangland killing? No, more than that… is this really part of an FBI mission?

“…….”

Suddenly, his heart began to race. As if experiencing delayed motion sickness, his breath tightened, and his vision blurred. Finally, Isaiah pleaded with Manny, who was in the driver’s seat, his voice strained.

“Wait a minute, Manny. Pull over.”

When Manny pulled the car over to the side of the road, Isaiah jumped out of the back seat and began vomiting.

“Doing it all, aren’t you?”

Chester, extremely irritated, got out of the car as soon as he confirmed that Isaiah was bringing up nothing but water. He grabbed the back of Isaiah’s neck and shoved him back into the car.

“Wait, I’m going to…”

“Do it.”

Chester said, slamming the car door shut.

“Where…?”

Instead of answering, Chester glanced at the floor mat in the back seat.

“Then, the car wash…”

“Of course, you’ll do it.”

Chester glared, asking how someone who earned so much money could expect to get away with anything.

Of course. I was a fool to expect anything from someone like Chester, as a lover.

While Isaiah desperately swallowed his saliva, the car finally reached its destination.

“We’re here.”

“Fucking hell, how long did that take?”

Chester gave Manny’s head one last whack and then tucked his gun inside his jacket.

As soon as Chester got out of the car, his men, who had been waiting in front of the restaurant, rushed over. Chester led them arrogantly into the restaurant. Isaiah, still reeling from the shock of the video, followed Manny with unsteady steps, bringing up the rear.

The restaurant was quiet. Unlike a typical evening, it was empty except for a few tables occupied at the far end. Chester’s father had apparently rented out the entire restaurant.

Chester’s father, Cedric Kalisz, seemed to have arrived some time ago. He had removed his suit jacket and was sitting comfortably in his dress shirt, engaged in a pleasant conversation with someone. Of course, the only person who would be sitting at the same table with him in this situation would be Bran…

Is that really Bran? That?

Trailing behind with Manny, Isaiah narrowed his eyes as he approached Kalisz’s table. It wasn’t because he couldn’t see clearly, but because he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Wow, fuck. This is really unbelievable…”

Isaiah mumbled half in a daze without realizing it.

“What?”

Manny said, looking back.

“No, it’s nothing.”

Isaiah quickly replied. Manny, looking deeply uneasy, pointed to a round table in the corner of the restaurant.

“You sit here.”

Isaiah obeyed. Manny sat next to him. The other men dispersed, three or four of them taking a table each.

Meanwhile, Chester approached his father.

“Father.”

“Yes, you’re here.”

Cedric gestured to the seat beside him. As Chester sat down, Bran was the first to greet him.

“It’s been a while, Chester.”

It was an elegant voice, with a low, soft resonance. Or perhaps it was his manner of speaking that was elegant.

“It has.”

Perhaps due to his father’s presence, Chester responded politely. Cedric seemed to smile approvingly at the two of them, but Isaiah didn’t care. He wasn’t interested. His gaze had been fixed on Bran Wiseman from the moment he saw him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. The video he had seen in the car was completely forgotten. Bran’s beauty was that shocking.