Chapter Two: The Deal in the Dark
Frank Callahan’s eyes swept over the scene as he stepped through the metal door into the dimly lit interior of the warehouse. The air smelled of damp concrete and oil, the kind of smell that stuck to your clothes long after you’d left. He’d seen too many crime scenes in his day, but this one hit differently. It was quiet. Too quiet. The buzz of distant traffic outside barely reached his ears as he moved further into the cavernous space, his boots echoing with every step.
The body was still lying where it had been found—right in the middle of the floor. There was no hurry to move it. Not yet. They hadn’t even called the coroner yet. Frank could tell. The lack of urgency made the whole thing feel like a setup. Someone was waiting for him to take the first step.
He squatted next to the body, looking at the mangled mess of what was once Jimmy Carter’s face. A small-time hustler who’d crossed the wrong people. Frank had seen enough blood and violence in his time on the job to be desensitized by it, but this was different. This was a message. A message for someone. And Frank had a feeling he was that someone.
“Who found him?” Frank asked, his voice gravelly as he turned to look at Tony, who had followed him into the warehouse.
“Some kids,” Tony replied, his voice lower than usual. “They were just passing through, probably had no clue what they were looking at. Saw the body, panicked, and called it in.”
Frank nodded. The kids probably didn’t know who Carter was. They wouldn’t know anything about the players involved, the people who’d been pulling the strings in this city for too long. But Frank knew. And he had a sinking feeling that Carter had been tangled up in something bigger than anyone wanted to admit.
The warehouse was dark, save for the flickering overhead lights that barely illuminated the far corners of the room. Shadows clung to the steel beams and broken crates, making it easy to imagine that someone was watching. Frank didn’t like the feeling. He’d been in places like this before—places where every step felt like it could be your last. But he had no choice. He had to move forward.
“You got any idea who did this?” Frank asked, standing up and scanning the room again.
Tony didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he lit a cigarette and took a long drag, his eyes narrowing. “It’s not that simple, Frank. There’s always a lot more going on in this town than people think. You remember the old days—before the cops got their hands tied and all the damn red tape started? It was easier to get things done back then.”
Frank didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. Tony was right. The city had changed. There was a time when Frank could walk into a bar and hear the rumors, get a feel for the pulse of the streets. But now? Now everything was more complicated, wrapped up in layers of bureaucracy and corruption. The bad guys knew how to hide their tracks, and the good guys didn’t have enough to fight back with.
“This Jimmy Carter… he wasn’t just some small-time crook,” Frank said after a moment, his eyes flicking back to the body. “What’s the story? What was he mixed up in?”
Tony exhaled sharply, blowing a cloud of smoke into the stale air. “You know how it is, Frank. Everybody’s got something they’re trying to get away from. Carter… he used to run with some of the smaller guys around town, doing muscle work for a few operations here and there. But lately, he’d been trying to go clean. Started working at some auto shop down by the docks. Thought he could make a living without all the shit. But you know how it goes. The past doesn’t let you go that easy.”
Frank’s eyes narrowed. “So, he thought he could just walk away? No one walks away from the game.”
Tony grunted in agreement. “Exactly. And he made a mistake, Frank. A big one.”
“Who did he mess with?” Frank asked, his patience starting to wear thin. He wanted answers. Fast.
Tony paused, dragging on the cigarette again. “It’s not just one person. There’s a few involved. A few people who don’t take kindly to people like Carter trying to ditch their business. Carter was working for someone—don’t know who exactly—but he had a deal in the works. He thought he was getting out clean. But he didn’t get the memo. The city doesn’t let people like him walk away.”
Frank’s mind raced. A deal gone wrong. That was usually how it started. Someone gets greedy, tries to cut a deal without realizing how deep they’re in, and it all falls apart. But this… this felt different. Carter wasn’t just in over his head. He’d made the wrong deal with the wrong person, and now someone was sending a message loud and clear.
“Who stands to gain from Carter’s death?” Frank asked, trying to piece things together.
Tony glanced around nervously before lowering his voice. “It’s bigger than Carter. There’s a new player in town. I don’t know who they are, but they’re making moves. They’ve been pushing into every corner of the city. Everyone from the top guys down to the low-level hoods are talking about them. Whoever they are, they’re cleaning house. And Carter was in their way.”
A chill ran down Frank’s spine. He’d heard whispers about a new group making moves in the shadows, but this was the first real piece of the puzzle. Whoever was behind this wasn’t afraid to get their hands dirty. And they were willing to send a message, loud and clear, to anyone who thought they could oppose them.
Tony flicked his cigarette to the ground and stamped it out under his boot. “You’ll figure it out, Frank. You always do. But just know this: If you’re getting involved in this, you’re walking into something bigger than you can handle. This isn’t just a dead body. This is a declaration of war.”
Frank stood in silence, his mind turning over the pieces. This was bigger than he thought. And it wasn’t going to stop with Jimmy Carter. Whoever had sent that message wasn’t just cleaning house. They were making a statement. They were here to stay.
And Frank had just been dragged into their war.
“Don’t worry, Tony,” Frank said, his voice grim. “I always handle the dirty work. And if this war is coming, I’ll be ready for it.”
He turned and walked out of the warehouse, the door slamming shut behind him. The night air was colder now, a bite to it that hadn’t been there before. Something was coming. And Frank Callahan wasn’t going to let it hit him in the back. Not without a fight.
He was going to find out who was behind this. And when he did, they’d regret ever stepping into his city.
