Read Online Grinder by Mike Knowles - Free Book Online
Authors: Mike Knowles
Tags: Fiction, General, Noir fiction, Mystery & Detective, Mystery, Detective and Mystery Stories, Hard-Boiled, organized crime, Canadian Fiction, Canadian Literature
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Chinese place over there has pasta; it's covered in their shit sauces, but it's pasta. That's probably why they're so busy all the time.”
“Thank you, sir. Have a good night.” It was as rude as Yousif could let himself be.
Paolo left with a smile. I watched him go, noticing his shoulders were a bit less tense.
CHAPTER NINE
I unfolded the paper Paolo had left me. Handwritten in thick black script were three lists under three headings: Bombedieri, Perino, and Rosa. Each list had addresses, names, and descriptions like “#2” written beside the names. I assumed the addresses Paolo gave me were work and not home. I checked the paper over twice, front and back, finding only one address for each name. Paolo certainly had access to that kind of information, but having someone dig it up would surely lead to questions later. At the bottom of the paper was a website URL for a specific page on YouTube. This must have been where all of the trouble started.
The Internet was not something I had used often, but as the world changed around me and threatened to leave me behind, I versed myself in its basic functions. I knew there were people who could swim through the electrical currents of the World Wide Web like a shark, seizing any information that was appropriately juicy. The rapidly advancing technological age created more and more people like that every day, and that would make it harder for me to remain anonymous forever; it would be impossible if, like Army and Nicky, I posted my face and opinions online. The Internet was like a gun. Any random thoughts or comments shot out from a computer keyboard in the form of a binary bullet could not be retrieved. It existed in some form in the ether, and there was no chance of erasing its existence or denying it had happened. I wondered about the bullet Army and Nicky fired on YouTube, and what kind of damage it had caused.
I folded the paper up and put it into my pocket. I paid the tab and waited patiently for Yousif to come out and hold the door for me. As he approached, I saw that his jaw was set. My guest had been rude to him a few minutes ago, and he was finding it hard to remain a good host.
“Goodbye, sir,” he said in a polite, curt way.
“Good luck with the dinner rush tonight, Yousif.”
All at once, his pleasant demeanour broke through. “It will be very busy, sir. Very busy indeed.”
The door swung awkwardly closed behind me as Yousif had another tremor. His arm tightened on the door, and it stopped moving before it formed a seal. I heard him sigh with relief as the spell ended. As I entered the parking lot, I could hear him continue talking to himself. “Very busy soon. No rest tonight.”
He was right, I wouldn't rest tonight — not ever, I feared.
It had been almost two years since I had been in the city. It was possible that the last few Internet cafés I had used were still in business, but it was more likely that they were gone. Most small businesses in the downtown core quickly went the way of the dodo. None of them survived long in the infertile concrete. The city reached out and drained the businesses dry with stagnation, or it started to work on the employees, killing their bodies with pollution or their minds with constant vandalism and robbery. The old places didn't matter. I didn't want to set foot in the downtown core before I had to. Every street corner had eyes, eyes looking to pass on information for a score.
I pulled the car onto Upper James and drove north, admiring the economic prosperity the Hamilton mountain enjoyed. Everything was different a few hundred metres in the air. The cars were sleeker and quieter, and the stores were bright and busy. As I drove closer and closer to the core, the stores got smaller and smaller, as though they were tightening in preparation for the city's assault.
Eventually, as I neared the escarpment access, I found a used computer store that had spawned from a decades old two-storey house. I parked the car
“Thank you, sir. Have a good night.” It was as rude as Yousif could let himself be.
Paolo left with a smile. I watched him go, noticing his shoulders were a bit less tense.
CHAPTER NINE
I unfolded the paper Paolo had left me. Handwritten in thick black script were three lists under three headings: Bombedieri, Perino, and Rosa. Each list had addresses, names, and descriptions like “#2” written beside the names. I assumed the addresses Paolo gave me were work and not home. I checked the paper over twice, front and back, finding only one address for each name. Paolo certainly had access to that kind of information, but having someone dig it up would surely lead to questions later. At the bottom of the paper was a website URL for a specific page on YouTube. This must have been where all of the trouble started.
The Internet was not something I had used often, but as the world changed around me and threatened to leave me behind, I versed myself in its basic functions. I knew there were people who could swim through the electrical currents of the World Wide Web like a shark, seizing any information that was appropriately juicy. The rapidly advancing technological age created more and more people like that every day, and that would make it harder for me to remain anonymous forever; it would be impossible if, like Army and Nicky, I posted my face and opinions online. The Internet was like a gun. Any random thoughts or comments shot out from a computer keyboard in the form of a binary bullet could not be retrieved. It existed in some form in the ether, and there was no chance of erasing its existence or denying it had happened. I wondered about the bullet Army and Nicky fired on YouTube, and what kind of damage it had caused.
I folded the paper up and put it into my pocket. I paid the tab and waited patiently for Yousif to come out and hold the door for me. As he approached, I saw that his jaw was set. My guest had been rude to him a few minutes ago, and he was finding it hard to remain a good host.
“Goodbye, sir,” he said in a polite, curt way.
“Good luck with the dinner rush tonight, Yousif.”
All at once, his pleasant demeanour broke through. “It will be very busy, sir. Very busy indeed.”
The door swung awkwardly closed behind me as Yousif had another tremor. His arm tightened on the door, and it stopped moving before it formed a seal. I heard him sigh with relief as the spell ended. As I entered the parking lot, I could hear him continue talking to himself. “Very busy soon. No rest tonight.”
He was right, I wouldn't rest tonight — not ever, I feared.
It had been almost two years since I had been in the city. It was possible that the last few Internet cafés I had used were still in business, but it was more likely that they were gone. Most small businesses in the downtown core quickly went the way of the dodo. None of them survived long in the infertile concrete. The city reached out and drained the businesses dry with stagnation, or it started to work on the employees, killing their bodies with pollution or their minds with constant vandalism and robbery. The old places didn't matter. I didn't want to set foot in the downtown core before I had to. Every street corner had eyes, eyes looking to pass on information for a score.
I pulled the car onto Upper James and drove north, admiring the economic prosperity the Hamilton mountain enjoyed. Everything was different a few hundred metres in the air. The cars were sleeker and quieter, and the stores were bright and busy. As I drove closer and closer to the core, the stores got smaller and smaller, as though they were tightening in preparation for the city's assault.
Eventually, as I neared the escarpment access, I found a used computer store that had spawned from a decades old two-storey house. I parked the car
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