He is of notorious and unsavory reputation

        'Mr. Pagano you've confessed to a number of very serious crimes, half a dozen murders, drug dealing

extortions, loansharking, and some of the victims families feel like you serving the sentence that you did, 

5 years, is something of a slap in to the memory of their love ones that you could commit these crimes and

walk away with such a light sentence. How do you respond to these kinds of comments?' The reporter had

his most serious intellectual face on as he asked Gerry Pagano, who was in the television studio with 

sunglasses and a blazer.

            'Well, first and foremost let me say no, I don't feel anything for them. These so called 'Victims,' 

every fucking person I had to put in the ground knew what the game was that they were in and knew the

consequences of said game. Hell, if circumstances were different, it easily could have been me buried

in some wiseguy's backyard, or worse, cut up into different pieces and sent to various places.'

        'The point is, I sleep fine at night. Not only that, my testimony put more than 50 members of the

Berardi family behind bars, and set them back a whole lot. And you know what? I'm proud of that. So,

yes I think I've paid my debt to society with that.'

            'This guy is such a fucking asshole.' Tony Contakis said to the TV. He was sitting behind his

desk in the backroom of the house of Venus on a slow Wednesday night. Mike, and George, Tony's 

son were counting money on the table in the middle of the room.

        'For those of us just joining us tonight on 'Conversations', were talking with former mobster Gerry

Pagano, who was the underboss of the Berardi family in Warner. In 1993, facing indictment on felony

drug trafficking charges he turned states evidence against his boss Carmine Berardi and several other

high ranking members of the Berardi Family.

        Gerry took a sip of water, 'So, as you were saying you're testimony in what became known as the

concrete trials led to a long prison terms for many of your former colleagues. You live in Warner now, 

you're using your real name, your not hiding at all. Aren't you afraid that someone from the family is

going to come after you?'

        Pagano laughed, 'Honestly Bob? No, I'm not. I've been here over a decade now and no ones taken

a shot at me. It's not like the old days, not at all. These guys, they got no balls. None of these fucking

guys in this city go the stones to take a shot at me-'

        Tony picked up the remote and changed the channel. 'Thank you.' Mike said to him, still counting

money on the table. He stood up, 'Well, I'm headed out got to meet a couple people.' Mike said as he

headed toward the door, as he was about to open it he heard a loud knock on the other side.

        'Who is it?' Tony yelled from behind his desk. He had told his employees on the floor not to 

disturb him in his office unless it was urgent. 'Its Artie. Open the door.' He heard from the other side.

Arties was the bouncer, what the hell did he want? Tony thought to himself.

              Tony gestured to Mike, who unlocked the door. 'It's open.' He said. Artie came in, a pistol 

planted firmly in the back of his head by a man easily 6'6, by Tony estimate. He was followed by 

what could have easily been a clone of the first man, and a smaller man in a leather jacket with a chain.

            The small man said something to the large man who released Artie, who headed out the door

while the other large man closed it. Mike had moved back to the table where the money was while

George was still counting, frozen,

        'What the fuck is this?' Tony asked the small man, 'You fucking robbing us?' The small man 

laughed, 'Steal that.' He said, gesturing to the money on the table. 'No, I'm afraid, what we want is much

more than that. It's quite simple, we want this. This place. We want to buy it from you.'

        Tony shook his head, 'It's not for sale.' He hesitated before continuing, 'And anyway, I'm really just

the manager not the owner.' The two lumbering giants took their respective place behind the smaller 

man as the small man walked in front of Tony's desk. Keep cool, Mike thought. He had his piece on 

him as always, and he was pretty sure George and even Tony were too. Wouldn't do to do anything

crazy though, not just yet.

                The man smiled, 'I know that. My name is Anatoly Kerimov, my boss Boris Kerimov, is in

what you might call the 'Flesh Trade,' and he is always looking for new ways to expand. I was doing a

deal a couple of years ago with Kyle, a buddy of mine, and he took me to your fine establishment and

frankly, I fell in love. The motif, the goddesses, the offerings, I mean I loved the whole thing. If you 

want, and I wouldn't even mind, you can keep your position here as manager.'

            Tony hesitated for a moment, 'He's not really authorized to make that kind of decisions about the

club.' Mike cut in for him. 'Keep your position as manager.' The words gave Tony a sense of Deja vu,

20 years earlier, he'd heard those same words from Bobby C, after he gave up majority ownership of

the club to the Berardi Family after he'd incurred a large gambling debt.

            'Well, Mike, Tony, I suggest you get on the horn with who is able to authorize those things 

\

because I got a team of guys watching your house on 42 Abbott street, Tony. Your wife Athena is

there now, and your daughter, Marie? Beautiful girl you have there. And so devoted, moving back in

with the two of you so she can take care of her mother.

            Tony's face reddened with rage and he thought about the pistol he had taped underneath his 

desk, no, no good. Stay cool. 

        'And I got guys watching your house too Mike, and your Capo Matteo's house, who if I'm not

mistaken is the owner on paper of this fine establishment. And basically, if you're people don't sell

this club to my people, for my price, I'm going to take out everyone you love and eventually come

after you.'

        Mike was speechless for a moment. 'We'll have to make some calls, I might take a couple days.'

he managed weakly.

        Anatoly nodded to his goons who started to head out, 'That's fine, just don't take too long. And if

for some reason you feel like doing something stupid, taking us on, think on this. I make a couple calls,

I can get a van full of guys with submachine guns, at my disposal.' He snapped his fingers, 'Like that.'

        He left a card on Tony's desk, 'This is where I can be reached.'

        'Alright were gonna head out.' Tyler said as he got up from the couch. Tyler, Steve and Shannon

were in the living room of Shannon's apartment that she shared with her roommate Rachael, and Tyler

had just purchased the rest of the OxyCodone's that Steve had on him.

            'Thanks for the gear man.' Tyler said as he walked toward the door. 'No problem man, thanks for

stopping by.' Steve replied as Tyler left.  Steve took a sip of his beer, 'You know since Kyle's been

missing, I've been moving these fucking things so much faster. And your friends down there seem to be

moving them pretty good too.'

            'Yeah, they're good at that.' Shannon replied. She was sitting next to Steve on the end of the 

couch, her beer only half drunk, picked it up and took a sip, 'I'm gonna clean up the kitchen.' She 

announced as she got up.

            Steve turned on the TV, he'd had Shannon TiVo the PBS interview with Gerry Pagano, he had

watched most of it, but then Tyler had come by to score and he'd paused it while they bullshitted for a

few minutes. 

               'You know Bob, life is good now. I'm not looking over my shoulder for anybody,' Fucking

prick, Steve thought as he sipped his beer. He'd been in the can at the time when Gerry Pagano had 

flipped and he hadn't known the guy at all, he'd been Carmine's driver when Steve had gone away. 

When Steve had first gotten out, and found out that the guy who'd snitched on his brother and so many 

of his friends and family was out, he'd asked his brother Sal, who was boss at the time for permission to

hit him and Sal had sat flat out absolutely not. If something happened to him, he argued, the heat would

come down so hard on the family it wouldn't be worth it.

            It was 2001 and the family was still struggling to get back from the trials of the 90's and the last

thing Sal needed was more heat on them. After all, Sal had said, you just got out of the can yourself,

you want to go back in? Steve hadn't known how to respond at the time.

            Steve flipped the channels, what's taking her so long in there, he thought. He couldn't hear any

sounds from the kitchen where she said she was cleaning, and it felt like she'd been gone for at least ten

minutes by now.

            Steve found a good true crime show about an outlaw biker gang, The Devils Disciples, and kept

it on there. She'd been acting funny since he'd shown up a couple hours earlier to pick up some money 

from Melissa and Julie. They seemed to like having Shannon take care of it for them so Steve didn't 

mind, he didn't want to drive all the way down there anyway.

            Even though he'd made it seem to Matteo and Mike that he'd never had business dealing with 

the 'Hot Pot', girls, as they were sometimes called, the truth of the matter was he had. Steve only played

the pauper, to his brothers, his nephew he lived with, everyone. He'd been doing it since he'd made his 

first illegal dollars selling black market cigarettes. He'd kick up what he had to, but he'd always stash a

little away. 

              From the time he was 18 to when he when to prison when he was 21 he kept most of his 

dealings to himself as much as possible, only giving a cut to the guys in his crew. He'd kick up what he

had to to the boss for appearances, and to avoid getting whacked, but he'd always stashed some away 

for himself. When he went away, he'd stashed 200,000, in various places, safety deposit boxes, he'd

buried some of it. Later, when he was in prison and he learned about how Barbara was struggling to 

make ends meet and feed the kids, he'd contemplated telling her about some of it. Just a few of the 

places, but something told him not to. That she couldn't be trusted.

            After he'd gotten out of jail he'd more than doubled that amount through various drug deals, and

other schemes, stashing it away in various places, all the time pleading poverty. The truth was Steve 

had, in fact, had business dealings with the Hot Pot girls before. He'd purchased a dozen pounds of high

quality herb from Mojo, through a mutual friend, for a 1,000 a pound.

            Then he'd fronted the whole thing to Mellissa and Julie for 1600 a pound. They had been uneasy

at first about taking on such a large amount, but once they'd seen the quality they were all in. That was

2 years ago and they were down to their last pound now.

            'Any member who talks to the police or the authorities is brutally dealt with..' The narrator on

the biker show explained.  Fuckin' A, Steve thought finishing off the rest of his beer. That's the way it

should be. Back in the day, someone making moves behind the bosses back like he was would always

be looking over their shoulder, worried someone would find out. And if the boss did, a bullet in the 

head would be a foregone conclusion.

            Steve got up from the couch, nowadays though, he thought as he walked into the kitchen for

another beer, Bobby's got a fucking snitch living in their city, talking shit on TV, and they wouldn't do

anything about it.

            As he opened the fridge to grab another beer and turned around he noticed Shannon standing

outside the sliding glass door in the patio smoking a cigarette, so that's where she went, he thought, 

opening the tab on his beer.

            'How's it going? You're not mad at me are you?' He asked as he walked over to her, she had her

had up to to sky, 'No, I'm just checking out the stars, they're nice tonight.' He walked over to her with 

his can and put his beer down on the patio table. 

        As he did he heard his phone ring in his pocket, he checked the number, 'Hey, Matteo, what's up?'

he said as he answered. 'Steve, Bobby wants us all at the bar for 8AM, sharp. He didn't tell me why but

he said it's very important.'

            'Alright, I'll be there. Talk to you later.' He said. 'Sounds good.' Matteo replied and hung up. 

Steve walked over and kissed Shannon on the lips, 'Babe I got to go. Go home, take a shower, try to 

rest for a bit, then go see what this is about.'

            'It's 8:15, I'm not waiting for this asshole much longer.' Bobby Carbone said. Matteo, Mike, Vito

and Tony Contakis, were all standing behind prep tables in the Wild Card's spacious prep area. Matteo

had already had trouble sleeping when he got the call from Bobby and he because of it he wasn't able to

at all. He'd arrived at the bar at 5:45, because he figured he could just get it set up for the meeting, make

coffee, maybe go out for some pastries or something.

        He had been surprised to find the prep cook in the parking lot, the only other car there. He'd

forgotten about him. Matteo's shifts at the bar usually started at 3 or 4 and he always worked 6-2. He'd

been worried when he'd saw him so he'd knocked on his door and been greeted with a plume of pungent

marijuana smoke, he'd ignored and simply asked, could he please come in at 1 instead today, work until,

9?

            Matteo knew there wasn't much the guy could say, given that he'd caught him red handed

smoking weed, so he'd said ok. Then he'd made coffee in the restaurant, and gone out and gotten 

various pastries for the meeting.

            Now as he sat in the kitchen, looking at the clock, he wondered if maybe Steve had just gotten

too bombed and passed out.

        Suddenly, the door to the kitchen burst open, 'I'm here!' Steve said as he walked in. 'Don't worry

I'm here!' his eyes were pretty bloodshot but he looked alright, hell better than me, Matteo thought. 'I

was up late watching our old pal Gerry's interview. You know the one where he talks shit about all of 

us?'

            Bobby shot him a hard glare. 'Listen Steve, right now we got much bigger problems than any of

that. First of all, Matteo, Steve, Vito, Mike, right now there people watching your houses with the intent

of doing your families harm. They're Russians, and they want to to 'buy' the House of Venus from us by

force and take over. From what I understand about them they want to run prostitutes and women they've

smuggled into this country through the club. They came to the club last night and told Tony and Mike

all this.'

        'So obviously Tony calls me in the middle of the night, tells me what's going on. Now, this

Russian sounds like a major player from what Tony is saying, so I wait a few hours and call my cousin

Sal, in Brooklyn. Now Sal knows all the major players out there because he's got his own crew, they're

not huge but he does alright. Now, come to find out, this Anatoly asshole is just the tip of the fucking 

iceberg, Boris Kerimov, this cocksucker has a fucking organization. 500-1,000 soldiers at least. Would

be no problem for him to send out 100 guys with fucking machine guns as reinforcements. And Sal? No

way he's gonna get involved because he does business with these fucking assholes too./'

        'Not to mention, Boris has connections in the old Red Army, and with that almost every kind of

fucking weapon you can think of. Bottom line fellas, there's no fucking way we have enough guys to

take this fucking asshole on, and he's got our fucking families in his crosshairs.'

        'These fucking guys, it's not like the old days. Sal told they they'll do it, they'll wipe out your 

whole fucking family without thinking. We can't take this threat lightly, which is why I'm gonna tell

Matteo and get in touch with the lawyer and take the deal and sign the club over to the Russians.'

            Everyone looked stunned, 'So we just give up?' Steve asked. 'No, did I say that?' Bobby snapped

back. He reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope, handed it to Tony. 'Here this is to get you

through, its 20,000, it's all I can spare.' Tony took the envelope, 'Thank you.' He said as he headed out.

'Meanwhile, Matteo, reach out to Eugene, tell him we want to talk to Luis. The thing is guys, what we

need is someone with an army, a bigger fish. The way I figure it, the Cartel doesn't want another large

criminal enterprise moving in on their town. They wiped out the local gangs 5 years ago to take over 

the drug trade in town. I'm gonna try to frame it like that, a mutual interest, but the fact is guys, the 

price he asks is going to be steep. And were going to have to say ok to it.'

            Vito, Mike, Matteo and Tony all nodded there heads in agreement, leaving Steve the only one

who looked concerned, confused even. He'd been giving Bobby that condescending look the whole time

he was talking like a petulant child in elementary school. 

            'So that's just it then? We bend over for the fucking wetbacks?, were gonna start hauling stuff 

over the boarder for them too?' Steve asked. He looked like he'd been up all night, and even though he

was standing 5 feet away from him, Bobby could smell the whiskey on his breath from the night before.

At least he hoped it was the night before.

            Breathe, Bobby told himself, grateful for the anger management classes he'd been taking. The

rest of the crew in the room all looked at Bobby in shock, wondering what his next move would be.

Even 10 years ago he might have grabbed Steve by the back of the head and slammed him as hard as he

possibly could into one of those prep tables, but now he just smiled, and started counting to ten in his

head.

            'Can you all excuse us?' He said to the crew, who gladly shuffled out. The meeting was over 

anyway. After they had all left, Steve started to talk before Bobby interjected, 'What the fuck is your

problem? You've been giving me that same stupid fucking look the whole time I was talking, you 

showed up fucking late, bringing up fucking Gerry and that fucking interview, and don't think I didn't

notice that fucking shit.'

       'I just think it's fucking sad that we have to resort to this.' Steve muttered weakly. Bobby sighed,

'Yeah, Steve, I agree. But how does it look to the rest of the guys if you're having problems with me 

when we have the threat we have with these guys?'

            Steve nodded, 'Yeah, I know.' He said. 'You know you want to go and buy yourself a fucking 

arsenal, machines guns, rocket launchers, and take out every single one of these fucking Russian 

cocksuckers like your fucking Rambo, be my guest. Until then we need to work with what we have.

Go home get yourself cleaned up you look like shit.'

        'Ok.' Steve nodded and sulked away. These fucking people, Steve thought to himself.

           'They slit his throat in an alley? Damn. That's intense. They were sitting out on the balcony of 

Cloud City recording studio, smoking a joint with Elbourne and his bandmate Harlan. 'Yeah.' Mojo

replied. 'I think he really got caught up with some bad people.' Mojo explained passing the joint to

her.

           'What about his wife and kids?' She asked Mojo, as she took the joint. 'Were having a benefit

concert for Sara and the kids Saturday night at the Satellite. Elbourne is playing along with the 

remaining members of the Mariners.' Mojo explained. Still it was a bad situation all around. Roady was

swimming in debt when he was killed, behind on the mortgage, car payments. In the week since it 

happened his wife Sara had been finding out all about it. 

          'To be honest I never particularly cared for the man.' Elbourne chimed in as Jenny passed him the

joint. 'He just always seemed to have some kind of ulterior motives whenever you were dealing with

him. Always looking for some kind of angle that he could benefit himself from.' He passed the joint

over to Harlan.

        'I heard they have a suspect already too.' Harlan said as he took a hit and passed it back to Jenny.

'This kid Tyler Haze. They say it was a simple drug rip-off, they have texts from his phone to Roady

just before he was killed.'

            Hazy? Mojo thought as Jenny passed him the joint. That couldn't be right. Of course Mojo 

knew who it was, most likely. He knew Tyler Haze, because he was a regular at the Satellite. Skinny

kid, maybe 5'5, 150 pounds soaking wet, certainly not a stone cold killer capable to slitting a man's

throat in an alley ear to ear.

            'At least they have someone for it.' Mojo offered passing the joint to Elbourne. Mojo's first

thoughts when hearing about the murder of his friend of 20 years was no grief for his passing, or even

sympathy for the plight of his wife and kids, his first thought was he's gone. He's really gone. Eddie 

'The Source,' Pena was gone and faded into the ether. With it, his favorable prices, and high quality.

        They had been having their impromptu memorial for Roady at Mojo's Cloud City recording

studio for most of the day, the late evening setting sun hit the balcony as it slowly set. 

        'Well thanks for the hospitality Mojo, but me and Harlan got to head over to Chapman's to

get ready for our show tonight.' Elbourne explained, as he and Harlan exchanged goodbyes with

Mojo and Jenny and headed back inside, a figure emerged from inside, Storm, a member of the

Mariners.

        'Hey, Mojo were about to take off, we got a show tonight.' He said as he came out. 'Oh, and there

this woman inside, she wants to talk to you. Says she's a cop.' Fuck, Mojo thought, clipping the joint.

He knew his eyes were red from it, and he'd had a few beers over the course of the day as well. 

        'Thanks man, I'll take care of it. Thanks for coming I'll see you Saturday.' Mojo said to Storm. 

'Look, I got to take care of this.' He explained to Jenny, 'I'll call you later.' 'Ok.' She replied and kissed

him on the lips. 

        The party was winding down anyway, Mojo thought as he opened the sliding door on the balcony

and made his way back inside. Jenny followed to get her bag. There were the remains of the afternoons

festivities everywhere, beer and liquor bottles, empty pizza boxes on the table in the main area. He 

found the woman waiting for him in the kitchen, her arms folded. A slightly older, well put together

woman in a blue pantsuit.

            'Mr. Martel,' She said as he entered. She offered her hand, 'Dana white, Detective Warner

homicide division.' He shook it. 'I need to talk to you about the murder of you're friend James Rhodes.'

'Ok.' Mojo replied.

        She looked around making a face, 'Not here. I know a good place, I'll buy you dinner.'

        Mojo looked at his chicken parm with little interest, they'd ended up going to the Wild Card Sports

bar, and Detective Dana White hadn't said  a single word the whole drive over, or even when they were

looking at their menus. Mojo had still been completely stoned and pretty drunk for the ride over, now 

a he was sobering up he was starting to wonder what this was all about.

            Dana, for her part, ordered a cheeseburger and fries and ate both with gusto, devouring the 

burger, with only a few fries left as Mojo's massive plate was mostly untouched.

            'So you want to know what this all about I bet?' She asked, picking her teeth with a toothpick.

Mojo nodded dimly. 'Why I rousted you from your mid afternoon bender and dragged you down to this,

let's be honest, mediocre dining establishment. Well, like I said it has to do with your friend James

Rhodes, 'Roady,' as you knew him. You've known him for what 20 plus years? I heard you guys met

back in elementary school, must've been hard on you hearing about him getting killed like that.'

        Mojo nodded, 'Yup. Least it sounds like they got the guy.' He added.

        Dana smirked, a cop smirk, one that seemed to say, 'Don't try that bullshit on me.' 'Yeah we have a

suspect, and sure, I could see why they picked him up, calls and texts messages he sent to Roady's 

phone just before he was murdered, the stolen money, the dope, open and shut case right?'

            Mojo nodded. 'Except not really. They don't have a murder weapon for one, nothing. And, we're

checking Tyler's cell phone records, he says he made a call to his girlfriend at exactly the same time the

murder was going down. Plus, I talked to the kid. I don't like him for it, also, he has his own story of 

how it really went down.'

        Mojo heart sank, and he felt a wave of nausea in his stomach as she continued. He took a sip of

water. 'Tyler claims he came home to his apartment late the night of the murder, a couple hours before

and a man had broken into his apartment, held a gun to his head. He said this same man told him to 

contact Roady to see if he could get an 8 ball. Then after going with Tyler in his car to the Satellite

bar where Tyler was going to meet Roady he hid in the back of that alley. After Tyler led Roady to

the alley to do the transaction, mystery man came out of the shadows. After that, he says, he left as

fast as he could and called his girlfriend. He says Roady was alive the last time he saw and the mystery

man murdered him after he walked away.'

            Dana laughed at her own story, 'Crazy right?' Mojo looked downcast. 'Something some druggie

piece of shit would make up to get out of a first degree murder charge? Except this Tyler Haze, he's got

no criminal record, no time in jail or prison, not even a fucking speeding ticket. I looked at the file

Roady's six foot 2, 200 something pounds, the kids half that height, he just get's the drop on this guy

and cuts his throat like that? I just don't buy it.'

        She ate a couple fries, 'Problem is, we don't have any evidence that this mystery man even exists,

no fingerprints in Tyler's apartment, no murder weapon, like I said, nothing? As far as proof goes we

have about as much for this guy as we do fucking Santa Claus you follow me?'

            'So it's bullshit then?' Mojo offered feeling hopeful, hoping she wasn't taking this where it 

seemed like she was. She laughed and shook her head, 'Well, no I don't think so. See as a detective I try

to see pattern in things. Connections between events that other people don't see. And, well, this time is

no different.'

               'You see I got a crazy theory about this one too, you could call it a conspiracy almost. I think

the murder of this Roady character is connected to another murder that happened that day before, as 

well as an ongoing missing persons case. You want what is is?' She asked a look of glee in her eyes.

        'You see, there's this rumor on the streets, for the longest time I thought it was just some stoner

fairytale, about this drug connection that lives deep in the woods. Sometimes, he lives in an under

ground bunker complex, sometimes it's a castle but the rumor goes he's got any kind of drug you

can think of, at the best prices also. The only catch is, obviously, he lives deep in the woods and only

deals with certain people.'

        He could feel the alcohol coming out of his pores as the sweat increased. 'Wow, really.' He 

remarked. 'And you think it's true?' He asked balling up a napkin in his hand.

        'No, honestly I didn't, until I looked at these two murders together and saw some similarities. For

one, one of the victims, Jason Popa, was the brother of Kyle and Issac Popa, the two young men who

are presumed missing. Now, Kyle Popa, I did some digging, he's a good kid, 28, was working at Price

Hardware for 7 years never missed a day of work, then, 2 weeks ago, he calls out for the first time in

those 7 years. Then, on Monday, no call no show. Kyle's boss, Mr. Price, is upset as you can imagine,

but he's also concerned. Kyle had always been a good employee, showing up on time every day for

his 7-3 shift, never complained, never had an attitude, always eager to work overtime. Now he won't

even return his phone calls.'

        'In fact it was Mr. Price who first made told us this might be a missing persons case. We go to his

mother, his father is in prison, she can't get a hold of him. We talk to his friends, no one can get in touch

with him. So I start digging a little deeper, find out if there isn't a side of Kyle that maybe his boss and

friends don't know about. There is, turns out Kyle is rumored to be running the same guns and drug

operation that got his father landed in prison all those years before.'

        She paused before dropping the bombshell, 'That in and of itself didn't strike me as significant.

Like I said, I try to find patterns in things, so I did some more digging. Turns out in addition to working

at the hardware store and selling drugs and guns, Kyle Popa had another 'Hobby,'- ripping off drug 

dealers.'

        She watched Mojo's eyes carefully as she said the last sentence, they darted to the left. He looked

very uncomfortable, good, she thought, I'm on to something.

        It was around 930 now, and the bar was just starting to fill in with the college crowd, starting to

get a little loud, Mojo thought about getting a beer. 

        'So, as I said before there's this myth about this big dealer in the woods, who supplies someone

who lives in this city. Except he'd only sell to a select few. Kyle, who likes to rip off drug dealers, what would be a 

better target then some guy who lives in the middle of the woods? No neighbors are going to hear 

anything, cops are miles away, house full of drugs, sounds like the perfect target right?'

            The waiter came by their table, 'Can I get you guys anything else?' Mojo decided to get one

anyway, 'Yeah, do you have Satellite porter?' 'Yes, I think we do.' 'Can I get one of those?' He asked.

'Sure.' The waiter said and returned to the bar. 

            Dana waited for the man to leave before resuming, 'However, this time I don't think Kyle had

all the intel on the place when we went in. As far as who this person in the woods was, what kind of

security they might have.'

        She smirked at him again, Mojo took a sip of his beer. 'Except in this case, I think one of his 

supposedly discreet and low profile customers like to talk. Could have been to anyone really but my

money would be a girlfriend. Anyway, as I was saying, someone who ran that kind of large scale operation

in the woods, who could run it without getting caught would be someone very capable. Maybe ex-military,

something like that. So my theory is Kyle and his brother Issac went up there Friday or Saturday night,

and were killed while they were trying to rip this source off.' 

        She shook her head, 'Then, this same person, this 'source,' if you will, comes down to our fine city

to cover his tracks, tie up all the loose ends.'

        Mojo took a long pull of his porter, 'But, as of now you have no evidence this person even exists.' He

commented.

        The server returned and Dana gave her her card to pay the bill. 'No, but I'm 100 percent certain that

they do. Just as certain as I am that they had a big customer right here in town. I think Roady managed to

get information from this person as to where this supplier in the woods lived. And I think this information

got Kyle, his brothers Issac and Jason and Roady himself killed.'

        Mojo finished his porter, 'That sounds pretty out there to me. You'd think a supplier like that would

have customers who were more discreet. Wouldn't let that information out.' He remarked, gesturing to the

server that he wanted another beer. Might as well, he thought. 

            Dana smiled, 'You'd think, she said. But as it happens I also have a theory on who this supplier

really is.'

        The server returned with Mojo's porter. 'Oh yeah?' He asked.

        'Our DEA liaison, Dave Porter, nice guy. He works with us sometimes, and we usually like to go

out for a couple drinks when he's in town. He's been with the agency for 20 years now so he's got some 

great stories. The last time he was in town he had a real good one.'

            Mojo took another sip of his beer, it was 8.5 and he was starting to feel a warm buzz in his belly. 

I think I know this one, he thought to himself.

           'So about 3 years ago, in this farm out way out in farm country in Wisconsin, the sheriffs 

department out there gets a call about a triple homicide at this farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. This

place is old were talking 150 years old. They find 3 hispanic males one on the porch and 2 in the house,

all dead from gunshot wounds.'

    'So their initial reaction is that this is a simple robbery gone wrong, and the homeowner just killed these

guys in self defense. Except the owner, or in this case the person renting the house is gone, the house is

empty with no sign of the tenant. The landlady, Ms. Parker, found the bodies when she went to check on

the man renting the house, a Mr. Charles Hall. It was the tenth of June and Mr. Hall who was normally

always one time with his rent, had not paid. Then when she tried calling his landline she got a message 

saying it was disconnected.'

        'So she was checking on Mr. Hall's status when she discovered the bodies with her son. It was after

the bodies were taken in for the autopsy and they figured out who these guys really were that the sherriffs

department called the FBI.'

        '2 of the men were hitmen for a large drug gang in East LA that distributes for the Cartel. Heavy

hitters these guys were stone cold killers. The third, Mexican national traveling under an assumed name.

From his tattoos they find out he's a Cartel heavy, another hit man, who was actually wanted for 

extradition to the United States for several murders in El Paso.'

       'So at this point the sheriff's department contacts the FBI, wondering what these heavy gang members

were doing targeting this nobody in the middle of Wisconsin. So the FBI comes out there and when they

find out the gang in East LA that the guys belonged to they contact Dave, who went after the gang when

he was started out in the early 90's.'

        Mojo took a pull of his beer. 'There was a major lieutenant in that case who helped bring a lot of the

members of that gang down back then, Eddie Pena. Salvadorian immigrant who had served in the army

down there and fought in the civil wars. Led a crew of enforcers who for a guy who they called 'The Chef,'

because he ran a restaurant where he operated out of. So anyway, Eddie get's busted, cuts a deal with the

DA, and informs on all of his colleagues, including some from the same crew. '

        'But Eddie you see, this guy is tough. His first week in prison he puts 2 guys in the infirmary with 

broken hands and kneecaps. Still, he keeps to himself in prison, reading, keeping his head down. Right

before he's about to get out, around October of '95 Pena finds out that this Chef has a contract out on him.

 One million.'

        'Now even though Dave and his agents were never able to prove that Pena was responsible a number

of things happened in the days and weeks after Pena was released from prison that seems to point to his

involvement. First, the Chef, the one who issued the contract, is killed in the yard in San Quentin the day

after Pena is released. Then, a couple days after that, 18 members of the Chef's gang are killed in one night

across the city. After, when Dave went to check on Pena and his family only to find them gone. The house

empty, no trace.'

        'Now, as Dave is looking at the rap sheet of these guys, their reputation, there is only one target he

can think of that would bring them all the way out to rural Wisconsin- Pena. After the Chef's death, his

brother Miguel, vowed revenge, but as far as we know no one was able to find him. However as they

started looking into his Charles Hall's background they noticed something strange. No one had anything

bad to say about Mr. Hall, but at the same time, no one had much to say about him at all. No family, 

nothing about his past. His landlady, Ms. Parker said that he'd mentioned something about being in the 

army once, but that was it. She hadn't pressed him further.'

        Mojo drained his beer down to the last quarter and she could see the glazed look in his eye. He isn't

really following, she thought, cut to the chase.

            'Ok, Mr. Martel, the bottom line is I think this Charles Hall is Eddie Pena, and I think Pena is this

mysterious dealer in the middle of the woods. I think you have had dealing with this Pena, I think you 

warned Pena that Kyle was coming up there to rob him and you probably have a pretty good idea what

happened to him and his brother after that.'

        Mojo finished off the rest of his beer. 'I have no idea what you're talking about.' He said sounding

about as sincere as he could, which wasn't much but the beer helped.

    `  Dana nodded, 'Uh huh, and I also think you know that this Pena probably killed your friend Roady

and his other brother Jason. I think you're holding out on me right now because you're afraid of this Pena.

However I think you underestimate what the ramifications will be for you if you hold out on me. You 

already have a record, do you really want to go back?'

            'No, I mean if I think of anything I'll give you a call.' He replied. She got up, took her card out of

her wallet and placed it in front of him, 'You do that. Because I'm going to find the evidence I need to

make the connection on this. You have good night sir.'

        Mojo nodded, he got up to the bar to return his glass and ordered another one. She's damn right I'm

afraid of Pena, he thought as he took a sip of his fresh beer. He'd seen him fuck people up in prison before,

and in their dealing together he'd said more than once, 'If you fuck with me, I'll fucking kill you. Just be

straight with me in everything, and we'll be square.

        It's ok, he thought trying to reassure himself, a pro like Eddie, he would have covered his tracks.

            'So that's the situation Eugene, these Russian cocksuckers got guys on all our families so I had to

sign the club over to them. Gave me 200,000 for it. Now they own it, legally. I gave half to Tony, who

we had running the place for us all these years, but that's it. Bobby knows we don't have enough guys

on our own to go against this fucking prick, so he asked me to see if you can reach out to Luis and set up

at meet with him.'-Matteo explained.

        Eugene eased into his chair, they were all on his porch, Jamal at the end rolling a blunt, he'd been 

leaning against the railing and he sat down slowly, wincing as he did. 

        'Never get old.' Eugene said, taking a sip of his beer. His slipped disk in his lower back had been 

acting up lately so he'd bought some Oxycontin's for himself from Matteo when he'd come by a couple

days before.  They were finally starting to kick in.

        'You didn't need to tell me all that young man, you could of just said you needed to set up a meet with

Luis.' He said, smiling.

        'I know, but I respect your opinion man. You've been in the game for a while, I respect you man.'

Matteo explained.

            Eugene laughed, 'Yup, I'm some kind of gangster elder statesman right? The moon was full and it

shined bright unto the porch. 'This reminds me of Vietnam, the full moon, hot night. It really is a beautiful

country over there, I wish I could have appreciated it more. I had just turned 18 in September of '67, I 

had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I knew I didn't want to work on the farm, none of my 

siblings did, we all couldn't wait to get the hell out of there and as far away from Georgia as we could

go.'

        Jamal had finished rolling the blunt and lit it up. 'Man, besides basic at Fort Banning I'd never been

outside my country in Georgia, so Vietnam was a trip man. Of course we had to deal with the same racist

assholes we had to deal with back home, good ol' boys flying Confederate flags, calling us niggers behind

our backs and to our faces to. But we had guns man, we knew how to use them. We weren't about to let

these assholes push us around like they were used to doing.'

            Man, but in a fight, under fire, we were tight man. We were a unit, we really were brothers.' Jamal

passed the blunt to Matteo. 'I like you Matteo, you've always been square with me. I think Bobby is right,

you guys do need help with this.'

    Matteo passed the blunt to Eugene who took a large hit and coughed, 'This is good shit my buddy from

California mails it out to me.' He was starting to feel the effects of the Oxy. He took another hit and passed

it to Jamal.

        'Times sure change though.' Eugene remarked. 'I remember 28 years ago your boss Bobby Carbone

coming into my friend Lamonts restaurant and telling me and my friends Judge and Marcus that we had

to kick up 5000 dollars a month to Carmine Berardi for the privilege of doing business in this fair city.' He

scoffed. 'Told us if we didn't do it they'd drop a dime on us, they had cops in their pocket back then. Or 

burn down Lamonts restaurant, we heard they did that to some Cubans before to.'

        He shifted in his seat, 'So now Mr. Bobby C is getting shaken down himself and he doesn't like it.'

He smiled. 'Anyway, I'll give Luis a call, tell him what you told me.' Jamal passed the blunt to Matteo.

        'Luis doesn't like to waste time to he'll probably want to meet with Bobby pretty soon, maybe even

tomorrow. I'll let you know though.'

        'Thanks.' Matteo said.

            I like this place, Bobby Carbone thought as he sipped a coffee and glanced around the dining

area at the customers there for the breakfast rush. It reminded him of his first job at in place just like this

back in Brooklyn.

        Eugene had called him around 11 the night before, to tell him that Luis had agreed to meet with

him at 10 at the Deerfield Truck Stop Diner.  Bobby had expected Matteo to get back to him about it, but

he was glad to hear it from the source. Eugene had given Luis the broad strokes about what was going on

what the Russians and the House of Venus, he'd told him over the phone. Bobby could tell he was pretty

loaded.

        So Bobby had pressed him for a little more information about Luis, what was he like. Eugene did not

disappoint on that account. 'Basically he's the exact opposite of what you'd expect. Very low key, not 

flashy at all. Blonde hair, blue eyes, honestly you'd never even know he was latino. You're expecting Pablo

Escobar and instead you get Jake from State Farm.' He'd said, laughing. 

        Then he'd told Bobby Luis's rules, no goons, no guns. Go to the booth on the far left side facing the

entrance and he'd come to you.

        As he was coming up the highway this morning Bobby remembered how he knew this place. Tony 

Contakis's brother Peter, had a strip club that was something like a sister club to the House of Venus and

it was just down the road from this place. Elysium, it was called, still there as far as he knew. They'd come

here intoxicated after a long night over there. 

        'Porn in the corn,' some of the locals called it. Bobby smiled, good times. Just then he saw a man

approach the booth, red polo shirt, khakis, almost looks like the manager at a used car dealership, Bobby

thought as he walked over and sat down.

        'Bobby C, I presume?' He said offering his hand. 'Yup, that's what they call me. You must be Luis.'

Bobby replied shaking his hand. 'That's right. I'm glad you wanted to meet with me, I've been wanting to

set up something with you're people for a long time. I think my organization can has a lot to offer yours.'

        Bobby raised his hand, 'Hold up. I thought Eugene had given you the broad strokes of why I'm here,

what I'm looking for.' He explained.

        The waitress came over and Luis ordered a coffee and French toast and sausage. Bobby just got a 

grilled muffin.

        He likes to talk, Bobby remembered Eugene saying. Just let him talk.

               She returned with his coffee and when she'd left he continued. 'No, he did. He told me about 

you're problem with the Russians, losing the club. The Russians threatening your families. And I can talk

to this guy, I've done business with him before. But I'm going to tell you right now there is a very good

chance he's going to tell me to go fuck myself. He's a hard man, he's had a hard life and with it a sense of

entitlement I think, he's going to take what he wants kind of thing.'

            He took a sip of his coffee, 'I like it up here. It's quiet, not a lot of crime, and no one knows who I

am. They think I'm just the guy who works at the computer repair shop in the center of town. I turn, don't

conduct any of my business in said town. What my employer south of the border likes most about me is he

doesn't ever hear about me, and I make him lots of money. So I can try to talk to Boris, tell him I have a 

stake in your club, maybe get him to back off, but if he won't that's about all I can do.

       'Thing is though Bobby, these kinds of things are just going to keep happening to you're people

unfortunately. Demographically, this country is changing more groups of immigrants are going to keep

coming in just like your people a century ago, more challengers will emerge. What I'm offering, is a little

like insurance, most of the time you won't need it, but when you do, it's there. And things like this? never

would have happened in the first place if you were with us to begin with.'

            Protection, Bobby thought, frowning. It was something of the same spiel he'd used on countless

illegal operators in Warner, pay us and nobody will fuck with you. Sucks being on the other end of it, he

thought to himself.

        The waitress came with their food and refilled their coffee. 'I know that look on your face, you're

thinking about some of the guys in your crew, the older guys, the dinosaurs, like you, no offense. They'll

see you siding with my organization as some kind of weakness. That's why I want to do you a favor. To

earn your trust. To maybe get you a little respect from these same dinosaurs.'

        Bobby's perked up, 'Oh yeah.'

        Luis took a bite of his French toast and a sip of his coffee. 'Yeah. I was watching PBS last night, I 

saw an old associate of yours, Gerry Pagano.'

        'Yeah he was on there talking shit. There's nothing I can do.' Bobby said taking a bite of his muffin. 

'I understand that.' Luis replied. 'I know that Sal told you nobody can touch him and I know Carmine 

told Sal that before he went away. I even know there are some folks in New York who might be unhappy

if it were to go down and get tied back to you. That's why I'm offering. To take this guy out of play so to

speak.'

        'With one of your guys?' Bobby said, speaking low. 'Well yes technically this person is employed by

my organization.' Luis said in the same low tones. 'But this isn't some job where there going to find him

in the trunk of a Cadillac with a canary stuffed in his mouth, this is different. This is more like he got

abducted by aliens and no one knows what happened to him.'

            'You ever hear those stories about people who disappear? Just walk out to go to the store one day

and there gone? Wallet, keys, car, everything is there but they just seemed to have vanished. That's what

were talking about here. Is there a possibility the feds will come by and ask you some questions about it?

of course, but what are you gonna say? We keep this between us, a gentlemen's agreement. Some of these

OG's in your crew ask you say you don't know, don't say anything. Let them think it was you.'

        Bobby thought for a second, 'Alright, that sounds good.' Luis smiled, 'I knew you'd see it my way.

And the other thing? Think about it for a spell. If you're under our umbrella as I like to say, we won't

interfere with you and your business at all, but if someone fucks with you, we got you.'

            '