CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

   Sergio, Leonard, and Clayton walked up to the mayor’s house. It was time to get to work.

   They walked through a side door, one that was only used by the mayor’s staff. As they entered, they heard the sound of heavy footsteps upstairs. Clayton and Leonard drew their guns but Sergio kept his holstered.

   A skinny Chinaman walked out of the kitchen and stopped short when he saw the three men. His mouth opened wide to scream. Clayton ran up and punched him in the throat, sending him to the floor. A hard kick to the side of the head knocked the man out.

   Sergio led the way upstairs to the mayor’s office. They could hear more sounds now, not just footsteps. There was heavy breathing and squishy, thumping sounds. They stood in the hallway for a minute, waiting for the sounds to get more intense.

   Then Sergio kicked open the door.

   Mayor Douglas had his whore Ana bent over his desk. He was screwing her from behind while he was looking at a photograph he was holding up with his right hand. The screwing stopped. Clayton walked up to him and stuck a pistol in his tattoo-covered face.

   “Get off the girl, you ugly motherfucker,” Clayton said.

   The mayor’s face drooped in anger.

   Clayton smiled and then pistol-whipped the fat man. “You really are an ugly cocksucker. Who gets tattoos on their face?”

   “What the hell are you talking about?” the mayor said. He dropped the photograph and buttoned his pants.

   “No, seriously. You should be the one wearing the mask,” Clayton said. He turned to Leonard. “Don’t you think so?”

   “I don’t think the mask would fit his fat fucking head, Clay.” Leonard kept his gun aimed. He watched as Ana pulled away from the mayor. She said, “Thank you!” and then ran next to Sergio. As she did so, she looked at Mayor Douglas and gasped at the red tattoos that were now covering his face. They hadn’t been there when they had started fucking.

   “Oh my god!” she said. “What’s wrong with you?”

   Mayor Douglas said, “Shut up, you traitorous little whore!” He looked at Sergio. “Are you men mad? Have you any idea who I am? Do you?”

   Sergio calmly stepped forward. “Oh, we do,” he said. “You’re the mayor. The question is: do you know who I am?”

   The mayor squinted and shrugged. His eyes were ugly pinpoints beneath the tattoos. “No. Am I supposed to?”

   Sergio took another step closer and drew his pistol. It was a huge gun, one that dwarfed both Leonard’s and Clayton’s. It was carved out of ivory and had intricate red designs on the barrel. He pointed it at the mayor’s head. “My name is Sergio,” he said. “Sergio Cardinale.”