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Rated: E · Short Story · Crime/Gangster · #2304634
Just a description of a mob hit.
Real history is very far from what many schools teach.

Harold didn't know he was followed. He parked in front of the duplex and went in the front door. He rented the duplex from a woman whom he had heard of through connections. She often rented to gangsters far from Chicago where the was less chance of being killed.

The men who followed Harold knew where the house was from tailing him for quite some time. He had eluded them time and again, but this time they had him. They knew the neighborhood was quiet and seldom did anyone go outside in the evening. They knew the brick homes were well-insulated with thick walls. Nobody would hear what would soon transpire.

Harold went up the steps after locking the door. He just wanted to get cleaned up and relax. Near misses had jumbled his nerves back in Chicago. The hits were very open up there. They would shoot someone in a bowling alley, or restaurant, or even cut loose with a chopper with no regard to who else was there. Most wanted to keep mobs out of the public's eye, or limelight, so to speak. Capone was one who loved being seen, and that was his downfall. The quest for fame and fortune destroyed men every time.

The men pulled past the backyard and backed into it for a fast getaway. Unlike what movies show for audiences, they used common cars to blend in with traffic. They used dark cars when they went "hunting" at night. They quietly got out of their car and went to the back door. One took out a lock pick and opened the door. They cocked the Thompson machine guns with 100-round drum mags of garlic-coated 45 caliber ammunition while outside so as to remain quiet in the house.

Inside the house, they heard Harold upstairs. One man stood where he could cover the hallway and front door while watching the door in the kitchen which he suspected had a slide from upstairs for a quick getaway. They were common items in many gang homes or hideouts. The other man went upstairs, making sure he stepped on the sides of the steps to lessen the chance of creaking boards. Behind a door, he heard Harold.

Harold had gone to the bedroom, removed his coat and shoulder holster, and prepared to take a bath. All he took into the bathroom was his 38-caliber revolver.

Harold didn't really have time to grab the revolver from the toilet lid when the man kicked open the door and the chopper cut apart Harold, the wallpaper, and pocked the red bricks beneath them. As Harold fell a few rounds hit the tub. The man left as quietly as he came in. He rejoined his assistant and they left.

The men drove for a few hours before stopping at a phone booth to make the call confirming the hit. Their superiors would contact the woman who owned the house and arrange clean-up, disposal, and repairs.

The hit would never be heard of and nobody would ever speak of it.

Just someone who "disappeared."
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