HELL TRAIN
A Novel
By
Tony Bertot
Hell Train
Tony Bertot
Copyright @ 2012 by Tony Bertot
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book was printed in the United States of America.
ISBN-13:
978-1468041057 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10:
1468041053
Discover other titles by Tony Bertot at Smashwords.com
The Heart of an Assassin – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/58470
The Birth of an Assassin - https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/58472
The Legacy of the Assassin - https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/58541
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Chapter---2---George Raines Sr
Chapter---6---Not in Kansas Anymore
Chapter-10---Follow the People
Chapter-14---Hell’s Proprietor
Remembering those that have passed on before us.
Some had a chance to live a full life while others were taken too soon.
Angel Luis Rivera (PR)
Crestobal Rivera (Ws)
Isabel Rivera (PR)
Jim Zasowski (NY)
Judie Marchant (NY)
They remain in our hearts and prayers.
Let us also remember those new arrivals;
Born to Jason and Tammy Dobe
Chase & Haley
As the darkness engulfed the city, it began to materialize. Invisible to all but a few, it fixed its gaze up at the 3rd floor office windows across the street. Those that passed by within inches felt a cold chill run through their bodies, causing them to quicken their pace. Its breath stank of decay as the ominous figure, cloaked in a black hood and robe that covered its entire body, moved slowly towards its prey.
It was the end of another cold December New York City workday when Gertrude finally reached the end of her patience as her boss, George Raines, bellowed, “Where's my coffee?”
Gertrude Sykes was hired through a temporary agency. Having been a temp for over fifteen years, she was very skilled and in high demand. As a result, she didn't need to take the aggravation inflicted by her new boss of merely three days. His screaming and unruly behavior was the last straw for Gertrude, who calmly got up, grabbed her purse and coat, walked into his office, smiled at him and gave him the finger, then walked out.
“Damn it!” George yelled. As he stared up at her, watching her retreat, he realized he’d have to get his own coffee.
George, a man in his late fifties, stood 5’10” and carried a middle-aged paunch. His wrinkled grey suit and open collared white shirt did nothing to improve his declining stature. The cigar protruding from the side of his mouth completed the picture of a mafia capo straight out of one of those detective movies. A building property owner, he had the gift for making money but lacked the milk of human kindness. He was described by most as a major asshole but, nonetheless, owned thirty-two buildings in the upper New York City area, where he leased approximately seven hundred rooms. George had inherited most of the buildings from his father who had died suddenly from a heart attack. But there were rumors that some of the buildings he now owned were acquired through extortion and gambling debts or shady transactions, though no one could prove it.
George stepped out of his office on the third floor of a seven story building, which was located on 50th Street near 8th Avenue. On his way to get his coffee, he was just in time to see Gertrude exiting the main doors.
"The hell with her, I don't need her. I just saved a hundred and fifty bucks ‘cause I sure ain’t going to pay her ass!" he shouted after her. A sigh of relief fell over Gertrude as she continued her trek towards the exit, waving her middle finger at him as the doors closed behind her.
Now alone in his dimly lit office he prepared his own coffee. Suddenly, he got the odd feeling that someone was staring at him, causing him to whirl around, only to find the familiar solitude. The chill that instantly enveloped him did not deter him from the business at hand. He glanced at the pile of eviction notices on his desk that were waiting for his signature. Smiling, he began to sign and place them in the outgoing basket.
"Every time I kick one of these low-lives out, I increase the rent by ten bucks and another sucker pays. If this keeps up, I will be retiring before my next birthday. Yeah, this is the sweet smell of success," he remarked to himself.
As George placed the pen to the paper, he once again had the sensation of being watched as the chill crept over him. He looked up and nearly wet his pants when he saw the silhouette of a man standing at the doorway.
“What the hell! Who are you? How did you get in here?” screamed George. A gray haired old man stepped forward into the light and asked if he may come in. The man looked to be in his mid eighties, of medium built, and wearing a long black overcoat and hat.
The old man made George feel uneasy, but this might have been a future tenant. Old people have lots of money, George thought, as he said, “You startled me. Yeah, sure. Come in, and take a load off.” As the old man took a seat, George once again felt a cold chill.
“Want some coffee?” George reluctantly asked him.
“No, thank you.” the old man responded.
“Well, then, what can I do for you?” asked George.
The old man shifted in his seat as he leaned forward. “Please, listen carefully, Mr. Raines, as I am only going to say this once.”
“Sure, sure, what is it?” George, never known for his patience, responded.
The old man took a deep breath, looked into George's eyes, and began. “I am asking, no, begging you, to please discontinue your ways. Many people have suffered by the acts you have committed, and I am here to warn you to change your ways before it is too late. Throw away the eviction notices, and lower the rents of all of your tenants as a sign that you will mend your ways. If you do not heed my words, you will pay dearly. Consider this a warning, one that is not normally given. Your father has long forgiven you for your corrupt ways. Change your direction, before it's too late,” the old man concluded.
George stared at the old man for almost a full minute before responding with, “Who the hell do you think you are? Coming into my office and giving me a warning. Who do you think you are dealing with?" George stood up, walked over to the old man and grabbed him by the shoulders, yelling as he practically dragged him towards the exit doors.
George opened the outer office doors and shoved the old man out onto the floor. The old man landed on all fours and slowly turned to stare up at George. They both eyed one another for a second before the old man said, "I am warning you, Mr. Raines, change your ways!"
"Yeah, asshole, let me jot that down," George said, laughing as he slammed the door behind him. He walked back into his office, chuckling aloud. However, his laughter stopped abruptly as he felt another cold chill and the old man's eyes on his back. George quickly turned and found the old man standing just a few feet behind him with a paralyzing stare that penetrated his soul. For a second, George thought he saw his father’s face on the old timer. "What the..." George began to say as he jumped back.
He blinked, and the old man vanished right before his horrified eyes.
A little shaken, George remained standing there for some time, staring at the spot where he last saw the old man, before backing away and getting back to his desk.
***
It was not his father’s intention to allow his son to inherit his business. It was simply a matter of poor planning. George Senior had a heart attack and, being the only heir, George Junior inherited the business.
George Raines Sr. had worked hard in building up his business. He was a fair and just man known for his honesty and hard work. He never forgot that when he migrated to the United States with his parents, so many years ago, he had nothing. His parents worked hard to put him through school and paid for most of his college, where he majored in business administration. He went on to further his education in business by taking courses in financial management, while helping his father manage a shoe store. George Senior worked hard and saved every penny, hoping that some day he would be able to invest his hard earned money in his own business.
That day came at the age of twenty four when he told his father he wanted to buy the building they lived in, so that his parents could live in worry free comfort. With his father’s help, they sold the shoe store, combined their funds, and were able to buy the building outright. The fact that his father was a handy man before immigrating to the United States helped, and together they addressed the various issues that came with owning a residential structure.
In two years, the profits made from the other residents helped pave the way to buying more buildings. By the age of thirty, George was a successful businessman now owning six buildings. Within three years, George lost both his parents to illness, leaving him alone with his success.
Turning his full attention to his properties, George invested more money in acquisitions and became a man of substantial means; a great catch for any woman looking to marry rich, especially one named Elizabeth Carrington. Within a year of meeting her, George and Elizabeth were married, and life for George Senior changed dramatically.
Elizabeth was an ambitious woman and, using her charm, had convinced George to move out of the city to Long Island, where they could mix with the wealthy. Soon after, George Junior was born. George was delighted and proud to have a son that would follow in his footsteps.