Today I am delighted to bring you an extract from the thriller, The Case by Leopold Borstinski. This was published on 23rd June 2019 by Sobriety Press in paperback and e-formats. Here's a little about the book, first.
One Private Eye. One Case. One sackful of trouble.
When Jake agrees to take a package across America, he
doesn’t know if he’ll live to tell the tale. If the CIA, the Feds and the
British Secret Service don't get him then the mob will. How's a cowardly
private dick going to survive in these bloody times?
The Case is a stand-alone pulp noir novel. A wry take on the
jaw-dropping violent side of private investigator life by Leopold Borstinski,
writer of the six-book Lagotti Family series.
Extract
Anyway, there I was
walking down the steps of that plane with the Lambretti girl, Simone, waiting
at the bottom. She knew what I carried in my hand and by that point, I had
guessed it was about the most valuable attaché case in America, if not the
world. There was blood on that case. Literally.
As I looked down to
make sure I kept safe footing on the steps, I noticed some splatter on the top
and side. Not sufficient to cause anyone concern, but enough for me to see it
and wonder whose blood was lining the leather exterior.
As I surveyed the
scene before me, I thought the whole situation was completely crazy. Here I
was, a retired investigator, holding some case that too many people had died
for already and I knew - deep in my gut - this was going to be the longest walk
of my life. Too much depended on my getting this into Simone’s hands. Too many
people, too many agencies, had been chasing this thing around the country for
it to be as simple as a stroll down a plane exit.
When Don Michael
first spoke to me about this after I came back from Nevada, we went through the
usual shenanigans, hopping between different cars parked in a number of
different underground garages so the Feds couldn’t follow us. I was frisked
every time we swapped cars and so on. This was the time when the FBI had
started to make real inroads in attacking the head of the Cosa Nostra and the
Don was taking no chances. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life behind
bars just for the sake of meeting me and giving me a job.
Why did he meet me
in person? Good question. Basically, he didn’t want anyone else to hear what he
had to say to me. Call him paranoid, but he reckoned that if no-one heard him
give an order then the order didn’t happen - or at least it couldn’t be proved
in a court of law, officer.
Back in the Don’s
library after all these years, reminded me of little Simone running in to bare
her belly. The furniture was almost exactly the same as before. Same oak desk,
same bookcases, but a different chair. This one looked considerably more modern
and I could tell it had better lumbar support. We were all getting older, for
sure.
The great Don’s hair
was silver gray and the number of wrinkles around his eyes had skyrocketed. But
the piercing darts in those eyes remained exactly the same. Only a fool would
have treated the Don with anything but the utmost of respect and an
overwhelming assumption of an incredible intellect. For that was Don Lambretti
whether in his twenties, fifties or his eighties. The man could think and the
man knew, all right.
His genuine disdain
for me had not diminished with age either and he proceeded to lambast me with
my ignorance and inadequacies, until he tired of this sport and focused on the
real matter at hand.
“My dear boy, I’d
like you to collect a special package from an acquaintance of mine in Atlantic
City.”
“Sh ... Sure. But
why me, Don? After all, there are younger and my agile men than me you could
get to courier your parcel.”
The Don raised one
eyebrow at me for a second and then smiled; probably the only time he smiled at
me in his life.
“Why yes, there are
many who are younger, faster and smarter than you, for sure.” He allowed those
words to hang in the air over me and then descend like a cloud of thick cigar
smoke.
“But we understand
each other, don’t we.” Now it was my turn to offer a half smile to him. Yes I
understood that if the Don asked me to do him a favor then I should immediately
do it to the best of my ability. And if the Don asked me to do him a favor,
usually people wound up dead as a result of that favor. Yes, I understood.
“Besides,” he
continued, “your ignorance is your strength. Because you know next to nothing
of my business, you cannot tell anyone anything of any value to me.” And then a
genuine smile spread across his face which, due to the inelasticity of his
skin, stretched into a fairly unpleasant grimace.
“Even if someone
were to torture you, you couldn’t give up any information, because you know
nothing. You. Know. Nothing.” The final three words were said slowly,
emphatically and those cold darts had returned to his irises.
About the Author
Leopold Borstinski is an independent author whose past
careers have included financial journalism, business management of financial
software companies, consulting and product sales and marketing, as well as
teaching.
There is nothing he likes better so he does as much nothing
as he possibly can. He has travelled extensively in Europe and the US and has
visited Asia on several occasions. Leopold holds a Philosophy degree and tries
not to drop it too often.
He lives near London and is married with one wife, one child
and no pets.
Thanks to Leopold Borstinski, Sobriety Press and Emma Welton of
damppebbles blog tours for a place on the tour.
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