Jazzmon and the Mob


by Arby

Jazzmon knew she only had a matter of minutes before the weasel's friends would arrive. Quickly she crossed the room and with straining biceps managed to pull open the door to the secret room. It was in here that Jazzmon kept all her special equipment.

Removing her coat she stood in a clinging black lycra mini dress, the figure hugging fabric accentuating both feminine curves and granite like muscles. Kicking off her shoes she quickly unfastened her stocking tops, rolling the sheer nylon down her firm muscular legs in a smooth and graceful motion. Pulling the dress over her head, she paused momentarily to admire her semi-naked reflection in the mirror, the t-back can stay she thought, the bra will definitely have to go though. Jazzmon had long since realized that the sight of a magnificent pair of bare breasts would cause any man to think with the brain between his legs rather than the one in his head, one tiny lustful thought could be the difference between life and death.

Jazzmon knew how to dress to make the most of this psychological advantage, the black leather thigh boots and the whip she hung from her belt, not mere iconic symbols of female supremacy, the leather of the boots could help to turn a blade, while the whip could either be used to lash out at an opponent or made a very good impromptu tourniquet.. The entire outfit was finished off by padded shoulder straps and a chain wrapped twice around her left shoulder, another potential weapon should the need arise.

All of these weapons were for close combat, Jazzmon knew she had to have some firepower to try and even the odds. The cabinet in the back of the room was full of pump action shotguns, automatic pistols, both semi and fully automatic machine guns and grenades of various types. Jazzmon selected a 9mm Uzi, an automatic pistol and several grenades, as she placed the grenades and spare magazine clips in a small shoulder bag she, heard the sound of several cars pulling up and someone shouting "They killed Jimmy!"

Dragging the body out of her office she threw it half into the elevator, thus obstructing the doors and ensuring that the only way anyone could reach that floor was by the emergency stairs. Walking quickly down the corridor, Jazzmon opened the heavy fire door and smashed the emergency light, with the landing in darkness, she pulled the pin on a grenade and placed it so that the trigger was held between the door and the door frame. Jazzmon could hear the sound of several sets of heavy footsteps at the bottom of the stair well and knew that she should take cover behind the desk in her office.

After what seemed like an eternity, Jazzmon heard the door open slightly, followed by two small thuds as the grenade rolled down two of the stairs. Then she heard a voice say "What the hell was that?" Followed by another saying "Oh shit!" She didn't hear any more voices only a large bang as the grenade exploded. As the smoke cleared Jazzmon could hear only the moans of the injured and dying and the sounds of retreating footsteps on the stairwell. Jazzmon stood up from behind the desk and brushed the dust off her bare breasts, and approached the landing gun poised to survey her handiwork. Not bad she thought, two outright kills and two fatally wounded, finishing them off would be a mercy killing. One of the men stirred slightly and Jazzmon pulled him to his feet., took hold of his head and twisting it sharply instantly broke his neck. Holding the limp body above her head she hurled it down the stairwell. Give those at the bottom something to think about she thought.

The other guy was in slightly better shape, Jazzmon thought that given medical attention he might last the night, unfortunately Jazzmon had already decided that he might prove useful as a decoy or hostage, but first she would have to stop his groans of agony. Pulling him to his feet Jazzmon held him steady with her outstretched arm. The guy opened his eyes just in time to see Jazzmon's right fist hit him squarely on the jaw. Goodnight sweetheart, Jazzmon thought as she plunged him back into unconsciousness.

Throwing his limp body across her shoulder Jazzmon began to climb the stairs heading towards the roof. As she flung open the door onto the roof, Jazzmon took a couple of deep breaths and dumped the guy over in a corner. As she stood at the open door she could hear voices below.

"Jesus, look what they done to Joey, Paul must have got away.", followed by "He's heading for the roof lets get the son of a bitch!"

Jazzmon sat the guy in the corner up and taking another grenade from the bag she pulled the pin and shoved the grenade between his legs until it was firmly between the cheeks of his butt, handle pressed tightly against the floor and the mans weight pressing down on the body of the grenade, holding it firmly in place. Jazzmon then quickly leapt over the wall stood on the parapet and jumped to the next building, as she ducked out of sight behind a chimney, she heard a voice call "Hey its Paul, you okay man?"

This was followed by a second voice shouting, "Don't touch him, how the hell did he get up here with two broken legs?"


Jazzmon could not be sure but she thought she heard the click as the pressure was released off the grenade handle, a voice said "what the hell?" followed by another explosion the injured man and the guy stood over him were killed instantly, a third man was caught in the blast and although appearing to be relatively uninjured was flung off the side of the building, Jazzmon could hear his screams as he plunged to his death. She could also hear the sounds of police sirens below.

She was not the only one to hear them, one of the two remaining mobsters said "let's get out of here it's the cops."

"Okay, but lets check out that office on the way down, this guy's good, I want to know who we are up against."

Hearing the two men leave, Jazzmon started climbing down the fire escape. She stopped and looked through one window and could see some clothes hanging up in a closet, taking hold of the window frame she managed to force it open and climbed in the bedroom. Selecting a dress and a coat from the closet she quickly assumed a more ordinary appearance and headed for the entrance to the building and headed down the street in the opposite direction to all the excitement.

As the police surveyed, the trail of devastation she had left behind her, something puzzled Detective Stone. Downtown they had already decided that this was a mob shoot-out probably over drugs, but hand grenades were not really the Mob's style, and as far as he could tell all the dead men had worked for the late Tony Tasker. If the this was a mob shoot-out then there would be reprisals on a grand scale, but word on the street said everything was calm, it just didn't make any sense. Stone had a hunch that this whole thing centered upon the occupant of the ransacked office. An office that belonged to 'J. Radford, Private Investigator and Security Consultant', as the broken glass in the door still proudly proclaimed in its faded gold leaf lettering. Al Stone did not know who J. Radford was but he sure as hell intended to find out.