Chapter 5

That same evening, Jackson's phone rang again. He was a man who gave him confidential information from bribed policemen.

- Hello, Jackson. I got bad news. Less than an hour ago, the police found Nathan Collins' car splashed with blood in the woods. They suspect that Collins fell on someone and died in mafia scores.

"Thanks for the info," Jackson hung up the phone.

Now he knew what had happened. Bain had driven Nathan home the day before, and now Nath is gone. The car Bain was driving away was found in the woods, and it was splashed with blood. The conclusion was obvious. It's good that Bain didn't know that he already figured it out, it would make it easier to get rid of him. If he knew Jackson knew, he would surely disappear somewhere and attack people from hiding again, and he would just call him to his headquarters and quietly get things done. Yes, tomorrow it will get rid of the problem ...

Shofer Bain was in command of the group all day long. He was proud of it, he made his men call himself "Franco". He came to power so easily, and he liked the power so much that he thought that one day he would become someone who would be called "Franco" in his own mafia, the boss of all bosses like Nathan Collins. He finished off Collins and took his place, so he thought to himself that to take the place of his cousin Jackson, who controls the biggest mafia in Sydney, all he had to do was get rid of him. So when Jackson himself called him the next day, the thought of murder was already wandering in his mind. He had called him to his apartment so it was a great opportunity to finish him off. But he thought maybe it was a bit too fast, that he had only commanded his mafia one day, and he was about to become the boss of all the mafia in Sydney. It could look a little suspicious. He began to wonder what Jackson might also want from him. He supposed the call was probably related to the Collins murder. Maybe Jackson wanted to officially declare him the new boss of the group? Maybe he wanted to give him some tips on managing the group? But it would all be too simple, he thought. He began to worry that Jackson might suspect him of the murder. He would probably ask him some trick questions and Franco hated interrogations like that. The thought of finishing Jackson was dawning in his mind again now. Nothing simpler, he enters the apartment, pulls out his gun, shoots him in the head and hello. It would only be worse if some of his men were there as well… He got into the car and headed towards Jackson's headquarters. When he got there, he noticed that there were no "corporate" cars of the organization anywhere near by, so no one was in Jackson's apartment except himself. Could it be some kind of trap? Maybe they parked on purpose somewhere else to confuse him? "What am I thinking," he scolded himself, "they certainly wouldn't want to play such games with me, because they don't know anything about my plan." He started up the stairs. By the time he reached the top floor, he had loaded the gun and replaced the silencer. He already knew that Jackson was about to die at his hands. Before she could ask him anything, she would get a bullet in the head. If things then turn badly and someone starts to suspect him, then he'll just disappear and that's it. He knocked on the door.

"Please," he heard from somewhere in the distance.

He pressed the handle and entered. The door to the large room that had been the boss's office was open. Get ready to die, Jackson, he thought to himself as he walked down the hall. He stood in the doorway of the office and saw that Jackson was not there.

"I'm here," he heard from across the room.

He noticed a door that was on the opposite side of the office. It was from behind them that the voice came. He walked over to them, his hand extended in front of him, holding the gun. He was going to come in and fire right away. He stood by the door and reached out with his other hand to open it. However, he did not manage to do it. He heard only a soft pop, and felt a sudden piercing pain in his stomach. He was paralyzed, he felt the blood seep from him, trickle into his mouth, then pour out of it. Then he heard more shots muffled by the silencer, and each time he heard pain in a different part of his body. He realized that Jackson was just shooting him to shreds. The bullets pierced the thin door and then stabbed Shofer "Franco" Bain's body. There was nothing to be done. The gun fell from his hand and Franco dropped to his knees. Gasping for air, he thought it was probably the last breath of his life. It was like that. He heard the last shot that hit him in the head, then he fell into nothingness.