THE CAR WAS GOING THROUGH THE STREETS of New York at full speed. None of them knew what the enemy they were facing looked like or what its true power was. Although they believed they had lost the men who surrounded them, they did not want to risk being caught; any encounter at that moment would be fatal.
"We have to find a doctor!" Clooney shouted from the back seat of the car, supporting Martin's head on his lap.
— I know that! — Benedetti replied from the passenger seat, still catching his breath. — I already know where to find him...
— I don't know how long he'll hold out... — Clooney insisted on hurrying him up.
Carl Benedetti turned to the driver and shouted intimidatingly:
— Hey, you! Follow where I tell you, do you understand?
The poor man was shaking with his hands on the steering wheel, panting with nervousness. He just nodded and avoided looking to the sides, avoiding any eye contact with his passengers. Carl Benedetti, on the other hand, was so dazed trying to stop the bleeding in his arm that he didn't even notice the cell phone ringing in his jacket pocket.
"Did they hit you?" Clooney asked, seeing him covered in blood, pressing on his left side.
— Damn! — he replied without looking back. — It was my favorite left arm!
— Is it very serious?
— I can handle it. The boy is a priority now!
Martin appeared to be unconscious, he had lost a lot of blood. Clooney took the roll of documents from his hands and kept it with him so that it would not fall into the stranger's car. He tried to revive him by shouting:
— Hey, bro! Wake up!
I would pat his face gently and constantly check for a pulse.
The group continued through the streets until they reached the address indicated by Benedetti, a large house in a wealthy part of the city. The residence did not reach the status of a mansion, but it seemed to be owned by a person with high purchasing power.
As they arrived, Benedetti pulled his phone out of his pocket and saw the missed call from Tommy, his young apprentice.
Tommy doesn't care...
What could have happened? — He asked himself when he saw the record.
In a hurry, he ignored the information and called the resident of the house they were going to. Dr. Robinson answered:
— What happened this time? Do you need any medicine or did you put too much vodka in the boy's IV?
— Open the gate. — Benedetti replied.
— I am not at home...
— Open the gate or I'll knock it down! — shouted the old man extremely aggressively.
— What do you want to arrange for me? Do you want me to be arrested? Or killed?
— Do what I say or I will kill you myself!
After incisive persuasion, the doctor pressed the button on a control near the intercom and the gate opened, rising by means of gears. The car was approaching when the machinery was lifting the black wooden structure. They went straight in.
The vehicle stopped in the middle of the garden, near the front door of the house. Dr. Robinson appeared, opened it and waved for them to come in with the injured man. A gardener watched the desperate arrival and the cleaning lady hurriedly closed the curtains in the living room. Carl Benedetti, Brad Clooney and the driver quickly took the injured man inside.
— This time you've crossed all limits, Carl. — Robinson said, looking at him with a gloomy look.
— I'm the one who sets the limits here. — replied the old man, covered in blood and with his revolver ready for a more brusque negotiation. — Keep talking nonsense and I'll try to end your "contract".