North American detective: From scoundrel to god among men

Chapter 63 The Undertaker!

The first morning after Vigo Tarasov's death, at Cafe C on Z Street in Queens, New York.

The assassin Dunn sat down in a window seat. The thick windowpane, covered in frost, gave him a sense of comfort, as if the inside and outside of the window were two different worlds.

Dunn was Danish, wearing a thick woolen black coat, with a few strands of white hair mixed in with his black hair.

In the café filled with the aromas of various desserts and cream cakes, he ordered a simple sandwich set meal:

White bread slices sandwiched with chopped smoked meat, along with a side of tender cucumber and pickles.

For drinks, he ordered a decaffeinated coffee, which suited his aging, seasoned killer persona perfectly.

He also subscribed to a book called "Secrets of Assassination" published by a mainland hotel, which is specifically responsible for compiling important information about the underground assassin world that is easy to find out. The price is one gold coin per quarter.

Right now, he's reading this week's inside stories through his folding farsighted glasses.

My eyes followed the fingertips, stopping at this line of text:

"Vigo Tarasov, the head of Bratva Tarasov (the Tarasov branch of the Russian mafia), one of the twelve families, was murdered last night!"

"The body was found on the Brooklyn Bridge Tower; the killer used a steel needle from the top of the bridge to pierce Mr. Vigo from head to anus!"

"Last night, Vigo led a large number of gang members to hunt down Jack Vizra and John Wick, so it is highly likely that these two were responsible for Mr. Vigo's death."

"According to this newspaper, our old friend John committed the murder discreetly, and everyone understands that he was used to ordering dinner service."

"So the murderer is probably Jack Vizra, who's just arrived in New York!"

"An interesting question about this mysterious assassin is why he was carrying a coffin?"

Some say Jack was a passionate killer, with his deceased wife in his coffin;

"Some say Jack was a meticulous man; the coffin was prepared for the one he killed."

"Some people think everyone's wrong. Actually, Jack is an incredibly intelligent and meticulous person. He put his favorite oversized Thunder Cup in his coffin, just in case!"

There are many theories about the mysterious coffin, but everyone agrees on giving the killer Jack the title of "The Undertaker!"

"Or rather—the sole owner of this extra-large, top-quality cup!"

Reading this, Dunn felt he couldn't see the future of the underground assassin world at a glance.

He sighed, pulled out a photograph, a picture of Titus protecting the scene when he was investigating Hester Mofet's warehouse.

Dunn compared this photo with a candid shot of Jack published in "Killer Secrets".

A moment later, he took out his phone, snapped a picture of the assassin's secrets, and edited the following message:

"Mr. Mason Viger, target Titus Gallagher has been located. Once the employer confirms his identity, the hunt will commence."

After clicking send, Dunn looked out the window.

The street is a hodgepodge of rough concrete buildings and a few pure white Roman-style apartments.

Steam gurgles from the manhole covers beside the asphalt road, beneath which lies a network of steam pipes built by the Edison Company centuries ago.

Pipelines older than the United States itself are filled with sewage, oil, and corrosive substances, all of which leak into the streets with the steam.

In the distance, the Empire State Building gleams under the rising sun.

……

John Wick's villa in Long Island, New York's affluent neighborhood.

John opened his eyes from the eighteen-meter-wide bed. To be honest, he was forced to open his eyes because a little guy named Big kept making "werwerwer" noises!

For a fleeting moment, he thought that if this little beagle hadn't been a gift from his wife, it would surely be in deep trouble.

John sighed and pushed away Big Daisy, who was trying to mount his face. He thought the little one must be hungry.

So, they found a thin rope, pulled out Daisy's two ears, and poured her a big bowl of dog food and a basin of pet milk.

Immediately afterwards, he picked up the letter from his own door and handed it to the assassin's secrets that had been thrown in. He glanced at it briefly and then tossed it into the fireplace.

Wouldn't plain yogurt with cereal be too delicious for breakfast?

While I was thinking, my phone beeped with a message notification.

Marcus (not some hottie phone booth):

Thank you for reminding me, my dear friend!

I am currently enjoying a leisurely retirement in the Maldives. If I consider it retirement if no one contacts me, then please allow me to say so.

Also, I saw your name in this week's "Killer Secrets". Call me if you need anything.

As John was reading, the doorbell rang crisply.

He frowned, thinking to himself, why do I always encounter a series of troubles every time I wake up!

Does the Earth stop spinning without him?

When the door opened, the person who came to visit was an old acquaintance—Santino de Antonio.

Santino is one of the legitimate heirs to the Camorra family, one of the twelve Italian mafia families. He has a powerful older sister, Gianna de Antonio.

The twelve families are the core forces that make up the High Table. The High Table has twelve seats, with each family having one seat.

Above the twelve families is an elder, who is theoretically the highest leader of the High Table and possesses supreme power.

"Long time no see, Mr. John Wick!"

"I am very reluctant to see you, Mr. Santino de Antonio."

"Aren't you going to invite me in for a bit, old friend?"

John glanced at the neatly arranged convoy of bodyguards behind Santino, who politely parked their cars on the wooded path outside the villa's lawn.

"Come in, coffee or water?"

"Coffee, please!"

John made Santino a cup of pure, unadulterated black coffee with beans, and then poured himself a cup of hot, sweetened milk as an appetizer.

He brought the drinks to the living room, where Santino sat quietly on the sofa waiting.

The two sat facing each other around a glass round table.

"Thank you," Santino said.

John nodded.

Santino knew he disliked idle chatter, so he took out a small, round metal plaque from his pocket, which looked like an exquisite miniature engraved pocket watch.

He placed the small cards on the glass table and slowly pushed them towards John.

John's gaze faltered, he pressed the metal plate and pushed it back, then said:

"DO not!"

(Dame!)

Santino crossed his legs and said in a deep, greasy voice (almost like a male's):

"This is your blood. Your bond."

(This is your blood, this is your covenant.)

John pushed it back again.

Santino's gaze was unfriendly. He lowered his leg, leaned forward, and said:

"John Wick, I want you to kill Jaina!"

"I regret to decline."

"This is a blood pact! A blood pact you owe me! I saved you, John!"

"To refuse the blood pact is to challenge the rules of the High Table!"

Santino opened the metal plaque, inside which was imprinted John's bloody fingerprint. Only if John did something for him and Santino pressed his bloody fingerprint again could the blood pact be canceled.

John paused for a moment, then repeated:

"I'm sorry, but I cannot."

Santino asked:

"So resolute?"

"Absolutely not."

"Can't we discuss it?"

"It's not up for discussion."

Santino said no more, got up and quickly left the villa, walking all the way to a kilometer away.

He pulled out a blast-proof grenade launcher, loaded it with five high-explosive rounds, and pulled the trigger hard towards John's villa!

……

Inside a dark basement in Brooklyn.

A young man, about to go all in, sat on the rough cement floor, silently chanting in his mind:

System, receive the divine blessing of the god of fear, courage, and glory!