He's gone

 

    'Hi, you've reached Autumn, I can't come to the phone right now but if you leave a message ill call

you back as soon as I can, bye.' Dan Murphy took a deep breath, counted slowly to ten, and told himself

there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for his girlfriend not answering his calls or responding to

his texts, one that didn't involve her running off with his bag of money.

    He closed his flip phone and put it slowly down on the coffee table. He'd broken too many of them in

moments like this. He'd taken anger management in prison, voluntarily. His rage, combined with his habit

of drinking to excess and taking exactly no shit from anyone had landed him there, so he'd figured maybe

it would do him good, after all you needed something to do in there. 

      He found that the techniques he learned helped, but sometimes he felt like all it did was push the anger

down, deep inside him, where it would sometimes emerge at unexpected moments. There was metal tray

on the coffee table with a few lines he'd laid out for himself, and he rolled up the dollar bill laying next to

it and went through a couple rails. 

    He'd asked Autumn the night before if she wanted to stay over the night before and she'd declined, said

she'd been away from home for the past week and just wanted the comfort of her own bed. Dan knew 

there was some truth to that, but he could also tell that it wasn't the whole story. She'd had that look on her

face when she'd been over the night before, it felt like disgust but also pity. 

    He'd seen it before when he was a kid in South Boston, when he'd bring friends over for sleepovers and

they saw how they reacted to where he lived, in a cramped one bedroom with his Mom, Dad, and 5 

siblings.

        Yeah, but she's not entirely wrong is she? Dan thought as he examined his surroundings, the paint was

peeling from the walls, the coffee table was covered with beer bottles of various sizes, cobwebs in various

places around the apartment, containers of Chinese take-out and pizza boxes piled up in various corners.

Mark, his brother, always paid his half of the rent on time-he got a disability check from the VA, but did

little else around the house. 

        He rose from the sofa and walked the 10 feet down the hall to Mark's room, hey knocked on the door,

firm but not too loud, 'Hey, man are you in there?' Nothing. 2 in the afternoon and he's sleeping, Dan 

thought, he knocked again. 

    'What's up?' He heard Mark's voice from behind the door. 'Hey I'm leaving for work in about a half an

hour, do you think you could pick up a little bit while I'm gone? I'm not trying to come home to all these

bottles and boxes and stuff.'

       'Don't worry, I'll take care of it!' He yelled, sleepily from behind the door. Dan, at least feeling like

he'd made his point, sauntered back over to the living room. The TV was on mute where Maury was 

silently informing young men weather they were or were not the father.

        Did someone get to her? To Autumn? She'd mentioned that Steve guy was connected, did he talk

to her? Put the screws to her? Dan knew if someone had made off with that much money from him, he'd

move heaven and Earth to find them. 

    The guy's he'd used for the robbery at Autumn's place, Chad and Roy, were still bothering him about the

rest of their cut of the loot, what they thought they were owed. Dan had known them since he was a kid 

and thought of them as the 'Nazgul,' because, they'd been normal once. Before they'd become addicts and

alienated all of their friends and family by lying, cheating, and stealing from them. The only reason he 

even dealt with them was because they worked cheap, sometimes, they'd even take payment in drugs, 

which he'd do if he was especially flush. 

          However he'd warned them, if they ever tried to fuck him or any bullshit with him, he'd kill him 

both, plain and simple. 

       If something goes wrong with this money, I'll have to follow through with that threat, he thought, 

grimly, as a loud knock on the door interrupted his reverie. He got up from the couch, and walked over to

the door a few feet away, 'Who is it?' He yelled. 

    'Landlord sent me, I need to get in there to check out a couple things in the apartment.' The voice

explained, sounding reasonable enough, still it sounded off to Dan, 'Isn't he supposed to give me 24 hours

notice when he has to get in to the apartment?' He was also thinking about the bag of coke on the coffee

table, and the bong.

    'Look just give me ten minutes and I'll be out of your hair.' The voice explained. Dan paused for a 

second, then relented unlocking the door and letting the man in.

    As soon as he entered Dan could tell the man wasn't any kind of handyman at all, he stood a little over

6 feet with a black leather jacket and as soon as he came inside he gestured toward the couch, 'Sit down.'

He said in a tone that was more of a command then. request and when he turned Dan could see the pistol

he wore on a holster on his hip.

        Dan felt annoyed, but knew it wouldn't do to defy this guy, he sat. 'I'm just here to send a message. 

There isn't going to be any further retaliation as long as you understand the message and follow it to the

letter. The message is simply this: Forget about the money. It's gone and you're not going to be getting it

back. Any attempt by you or any of your associates will be met with a severe response, for you and for 

your friends and family.'

    Dan was about to say something, the man cut him off, 'Now I know you might think, 'Well I have my 

boys, my own gang too, they have guns. I looked into them, I agree they are formidable in their own way.

But while your gang has 15-20 members at most and dominates a small portion of the drug trade in South

Boston, our organization is worldwide and nationwide. And once your boys realize exactly who they'd be

squaring up against, my guess is they won't be very enthusiastic about it.'

    'But who are you? The Mafia?' Dan asked, frustrated. This was going to fuck everything up. The man

went into the small kitchen off of the living room and grabbed a beer, cracking it open, he sat down on the

easy chair next to the couch.

    'Come on man, don't you watch the news, all those stories about Juarez, the Sinola Cartel, people 

getting their heads cut off and having them displayed just to send a message? That's who I'm with. So

when I tell you that you are getting off easy by just getting sent a message here I'm not lying.' He took a

sip of the beer.

    'We will not be sending another.' He added. Dan thought for a second, 'So I'm just fucked here, is that is

then? Nothing I can do?'

    'I wouldn't recommend it. Your mother, your brothers, all your family, we know where they live.' He

took another sip of the beer and stood up. 'Anyway,' He said, smiling, 'You have a nice day.' He left as 

swiftly as he had entered.

        'Somebodies got to answer for this boss. Otherwise, everyone's gonna think were weak.' Vito 

declared. 'I mean what do you think this is, someone making a move?' They were in the hallway outside

the waiting room in the hospital were Mike was being treated for 2 gunshot wounds to the chest. He was 

in stable condition we had fallen into a coma.

    Matteo sighed, his second day as boss and he was already deep in it. Mike's wife, Sara and two 

daughters were in the waiting room, when she'd seen Matteo she'd given him an icy glare. He didn't blame

her, but, he thought, Mike chose this life. We all did.

    'Honestly, Vito, I think it was just a robbery. I spoke to Steve this morning he said he knew what 

happened but he didn't want to talk about it over the phone. He said he had to take care of something in

the morning but that he was going to be back this evening to tell me what he knows.'

    He'd found out about Mike's shooting at 5:30 that morning when his wife Sara had called to tell him 

what had happened. Matteo had been in such shock from the news, but one thing she mentioned stood out:

at the hospital, the doctor had told her that if it wasn't for a Good Samaritan calling the cops he might have

bled out right in the car.

       That had struck Matteo as odd. Especially given the time, from what Sara had said it had occurred late

at night in a sketchy part of town, the old K-Mart parking lot. He knew the spot, he'd met plenty of his

coke customers there. There was this perpetual mix of homeless, junkies and alcoholics who liked to 

congregate there and whenever Matteo met someone there he always packed his piece. He also knew that

Mike made pretty decent money with his coke business. Bobby, the boss hadn't cared much as long as he

could act like he didn't know about it. 

        'It's a shame too,' Vito said. 'With him in that fucking coma now, who knows how long he'll be out.

Someones got to take care of his wife and kids, he's got a house, lot of expenses.' He shook his head. 'And

all because some junkie piece of shit shot him and left him for dead? It ain't right boss.'

    Matteo nodded, 'Yup.' He said, but inside he was thinking, calculating. Dominick, the gorilla, that 

Bobby's cousin Tony had sent from New York to keep an eye on them, did so by becoming Matteo's 

driver. The only reason he wasn't at the hospital now was because he'd sent him out to get food for Mike's

wife, Sara and her kids and for the guys from Mike's crew that were here. He'd told Matteo in the times

that they'd been alone together that the one thing Tony didn't want to hear about was any 'Cowboy shit,' 

going on, people getting killed, any unnecessary violence. If they did end of feeling the need to whack

someone, they needed to get New York's approval first.

    Boss, it was still strange to hear them call him that. He hadn't asked for it, hadn't wanted it, and he 

wondered if Tony had given him the spot because he thought of him as easier to control. Unlike Steve,

who they felt was more impulsive. 

    Just then he spotted Dominik returning with the food, 'Thing is Vito, we can't really do anything about

it right now anyway.' Matteo said gesturing toward Dominick, 'Like I said, I'm pretty sure Steve has an

idea of what happened last night. We'll get to the bottom of this.'

        'He's going to kill me you know that right?' Autumn said casually as she put the car in park. It was

a little after 4 and they'd just gotten back from Autumn's parents house in Vermont where she'd picked up

the bag of Steve's stolen money. 

        Steve shook his head, sighed, 'Relax, honey, I've got it all taken care of. But, your right, I would steer

clear of him for the time being. Open the trunk.'

    They'd been lucky when they got to her parents house in Vermont, because they weren't home. She'd 

been able to go up there pretty easily, although Steve wanted to come alone since her parents were gone,

he'd wanted to count it.

    She got her bag from the center console and got out, feeling that she'd spent about just as much time 

with Steve Berardi than she ever really wanted to, wanting to sleep for the rest of the day. She'd noticed

Shannon's car was gone when she'd pulled in, now as she walked up to the front step, she took her key 

from her bag and unlocked the door, hoping she could just retire to her room without being bothered for 

the rest of the day.

    She had just put her bag down on the nightstand, and lain down on the bed when she heard a loud knock

on her door. What is it now? She thought, she'd thought as she opened the door. 

    Steve was standing there, a smirk on his face. 'Now I know you're sitting there looking all salty now,

but remember this: If you and your boyfriend kept that fucking bag you'd be dead. Both of ya.' He walked

away.

        'What happened with Dan? How is it 'Taken care of.' She asked him as he was walking away. 'I sent

some people over,' Steve yelled from the living room, 'To have a little chat with him.' She closed the door,

sat down in the big office chair by her computer, took the lighter next to the bong and took a big hit.

    So they sent some gonna over to threaten him? She thought as she exhaled the smoke. She'd only been

dating Dan for a couple years, still, she didn't see that going over well with him. He didn't get threatened,

he was the one who made the threats. He never backed down from any kind of confrontation.

    They'd been waiting in line at the concession stand at the movies one time when this guy had cut in 

front of them, just came up from the side. The guy hadn't even spoken two words to the clerk at the

counter before Dan had confronted him about it. After a tense exchange, the man had relented and gone to

the back of the line. At the time she'd felt somewhat embarrassed by the all the eyes that were on them

from it, but it had also been comforting in a way.

    Afterwards, she asked him, if the guy hadn't backed down, if he'd wanted to fight, what would he have 

done? 'I would have handled it.' He replied, without hesitation. 'You don't back down when someone 

challenges you like that.' He explained that was how things worked in his neighborhood growing up, when

someone calls you out, you handle it. Even though he was in public where it would likely get him arrested.

    She put the bong back down next to the computer, got up from the chair and laid down on her bed. 

In fact, she couldn't see any scenario where Dan getting threatened caused him to back down. In fact, she

could easily see it having the opposite effect- he'd strike back.

       Luis looked out the window of his office, watching the autumn leaves swirl in the breeze. It was a few

minutes before 5, and he was waiting for someone to arrive so he could have a quick chat with his 

enforcer, Raoul. 

    Steve Berardi had called him the night before sounding half in the bag to Luis, telling him about the 

break-in at this girlfriends house, how they would have thought it was just a random crime except they 

stole his bag of ransom money, how he'd gotten his girlfriends roommate to admit to helping her boyfriend

and his friends break-in by leaving the door unlocked, and now he needed Luis to send one of his guys

over to this boyfriends apartment and persuade him it was in his best interest to let the matter of the bag

of money drop. 

        He watched as Raoul's car pulled into the spot out front next to his. This office of his was off the

beaten path, a little office park off of these woods. Officially, the business he operated out of there was

small company that designed websites. Luis actually knew a bit about html and building websites, had,

in fact, built a few for few friends in the past. He had a few of these examples on the homepage of the web

design company. 

   On the computer currently, he was looking at a chart, which showed how much product had come in, 

how much was being moved and by whom, which town or city they were moving the most in. The bell 

over the door dinged as Raoul's large frame emerged through the doorway.

    'Hey Boss.' Raoul said as he entered, and sat down at the desk that was across from Luis's. 'I took care

of what you asked me about. I talked to that guy, told him he should back off, leave the money alone. 

gave him an idea of what would happen if he kept after it.'

    Luis got up from his chair. 'Well, how did he react? Do you think he got the message?' He asked as he 

walked over to the coatrack to get his jacket.

    Raoul was thoughtful for a moment, 'Well, that's the thing boss. He didn't really seem to react either 

way. He never said 'Yes,' or, 'I understand.' He just kind of sat there, he didn't know what to say. Almost

like he wasn't sure what was happening.'

    Luis thought for a moment. 'Keep an eye on him. See what he's up to, if he's going to make any moves.

But don't do anything without my approval. I don't want this to escalate anymore than it already has.'

        God, I want to get out of here, Dan thought as he took a peek at the Coca Cola clock that seemed to 

have a perpetual film of grease on it,  8;45, 15 minutes. After the goon had come and threatened him and

his family if he pursued the money further Dan had taken a shower, done the rest of the coke that was on

the coffee table in the living room, and smoked half a blunt on the way in just to even it all out.

    He'd arrived, stoned from the blunt, but still wired from the coke, and realized he'd lost track of time at 

his apartment when he'd came on the line to help his friend Jason, the owner of DeMarcos pizza and 

sandwiches who informed him he was an hour late. Jason had been on the line at the time cutting pizzas

and doing sandwiches, the guy who worked in the morning had to leave to pick up his kid, Jason had 

explained. 

    Then Dan had made a poorly worded remark about the boss working the line to which Jason had 

responded angrily explaining he never asked anyone who worked for him to do anything he wouldn't do

and that he worked longer hours, and did more work than anyone else on his staff which was how it was

supposed to be.

    Dan, hearing the fire in Jason's voice, had gone on the line without comment. The whole shift he'd been

there, but he was somewhere else, going outside frequently to contact his family out in Boston, as well as

a few of his associates. 

    He scanned the line, no tickets. He'd been staring into space next to the oven where the pizzas, calzones

and sandwiches came out, he looked at the printer, no tickets. He went out to the dining room where the

high school kid he was working with was sitting in a booth, on his phone.

    'I'm gonna go take a quick break.' Dan said to him as he came out. 'Alright.' The kid replied. 'But just so 

you know I'm out at 9.' 'Yup.' There was no one sitting out in the dining room and he knew the place 

closed at 9 anyway, he went through the door to the kitchen and out the back door, walked a few feet to

an area with milk crates where the cooks would go to smoke.

    He took the other half of the blunt he'd kept in his coat pocket and lit it up. I shouldn't have left the bag

of money with her, he thought. I'd figured if she'd had it his friends Chad and Roy wouldn't know where it

was, how it get it. They barely knew Autumn, he always aimed to keep them as far away from her as 

possible.

        I underestimated Steve, he thought as he took another draw of the potent bud. Even if he did want to

forget about the money, he knew he'd have to do something about them. After all, it was Roy who'd found 

the money in the first place, he knew how much was in there, they were counting on it. It wasn't hard to

imagine them turning on him once he told them it wasn't going to happen now. They'd suspect something,

that he was taking it all for himself.

    He grinned, truth was he had thought about doing just that, but now, as he finished off the rest of the 

blunt, he'd had a better idea. Maybe there was a way he could use them to get the money back. At this

point it wasn't even about the money, really. It was about the disrespect, sending someone to his apartment

to threaten him and his families lives? Fuck that. Plus he had connections himself, he knew plenty of 

people with guns, he'd make some calls.

        It was a bit of a different location for a meeting place, but with the Wild Card sports bar burned to the

ground it seemed as could a place as any. Eugene, Matteo and Steve were in the back room of the House 

of Venus, discussing business while the bass from the music on the floor throbbed.

    'All that being said,' Eugene finished. 'Jamal was not acting on my orders when he shot your man, nor 

was this any kind of move on your'e territory.' He'd just explained the situation with Jamals deteriorating 

mental state, how he'd taken him out of play for a little while.

           Matteo was seated in the office chair behind the desk while  Eugene and Steve were sitting in chairs

across from him. The young, Godfather, Steve thought, sarcastically. 

    'Yeah but part of it is on you.' Steve remarked. 'You put Jamal on a shelf, took away his ability to earn.

You take that, combined with the way you say he was acting, no wonder something like this would 

happen.'

    Eugene turned his head slowly, deliberately, to face Steve. 'Yeah might be true, but the fact of the matter

is we wouldn't even be having this conversation if it weren't for you, Steve. It was doing your dirty work

taking out those two Russians boys for you that got him all fucked up.'

    Steve threw up his hands, 'I'm sorry, so it's my fault your man lost his nerve? Is that it? I don't know 

maybe he's in the wrong line of work then. No VA therapist for burnt out gangsters is there?'

        'Alright this isn't getting us anywhere.' Matteo interjected. 'Look, I've known Mike since I was in 

grade school, I consider him a brother, and right now, he's laid. up in a hospital in a fucking coma that they

don't even know if he's going to come out of. Now as the boss of this family, I'm expected to take care of

his wife and two kids while he's gone. Now, as far as retaliation, it sounds like Jamal is out of our reach

anyway, so what I was thinking is, Eugene, you'd kick up a certain portion of what your making each

month to help with his hospital bills.'

        Eugene raised an eyebrow, 'And how much would that be?' He asked. 'Well, nothing to crazy, I was

thinking, 5,000 a month.'

    '5 grand a month?' Eugene repeated, shocked. 'Yeah, that's something I could live with. Something I 

could take back to my guys, his friends, let them know were not just letting this slide.' Matteo explained.

     'And what if I say no?'     

       Matteo exchanged a glance with Steve, 'Well, then I think we might have some problems my friend.

But, look, I don't see any reason why should affect our business relationship.'

    'Uh-huh, and how long would I be required to pay this, tax, or whatever you want to call it?'

        'I'd say at least until he's out of his coma, out of the hospital. Look, we've done business in the past, 

and I have no interest in souring that relationship. If one of my guys did this to Jamal don't you think you'd

expect the same? Look, I respect you, you have a history with our family going back to when my Uncle 

was running things and I don't want that to change, but someone is going to have to pay for this.'

    'What's right is right.' Steve interjected.

        Eugene stood up, 'Well hold up now. Your damn right I have a history with your family and your 

Uncle Carmine. Now, Matteo I know you weren't around then, but I know you were Steve. That slimy

motherfucker you call your Uncle made me and my crew pay his ass 5 grand a month just for the 

privilege of slinging dope in this goddamn town. So don't talk to me and act like this was some mutual

business we had going on, it was extortion plain and simple. Kind of like what's going on now. Don't

worry you'll get your money.'

    He went to the door, 'Hey, you're way out of line!' Steve shouted, pointing at him. 'Man, fuck you Steve,

you motherfuckers are just salty because you used to run this town and now there's half a dozen of you

and you can't extort shit, I'm out.' He left, slamming the door in his wake.

    'Did you need to cut in there?' Matteo glared at Steve from behind the desk. 'He was just venting, course

he's not going to like it. Why do you have to escalate everything?'

    'You really think he doesn't know where Jamal went? That he isn't covering for his ass? You know some 

of the guys in his crew aren't gonna be happy with this. It's gonna feel like were not really doing anything

about it.'

    'Well, then it's your job as a soldier and someone loyal to this family to tell them that this is way it's

going to be. Everything changes Steve, even this thing of ours. We can't just blow people away in the

middle of the street like we used to.'

    'Were supposed to believe that Jamal, whose been Eugene's right hand man for years, killed plenty of

people, just snapped one day? Couldn't handle it.?' Steve asked.

    'It happens to soldier's in war.' Matteo remarked. 'What are you suggesting?'

    'Well, you heard him just now. He's still got a fucking axe to grind about us from that shit from over 30

'fucking years ago. He knows were not as strong as we were back then. He wants to get rid of what's left

of us and take anything that remains.'

    Matteo sighed, 'So you trust him enough to have him whack people for you, but he also hate's us and

wants to wipe us all out.' He laughed. 

    'You're right to laugh Matteo, because that's all we are, a joke. This family. We don't have any respect

on the streets, they think they can steal from us, shoot us, do whatever they want. And what do we do?

Nothing. We run to the Mexicans for help. That's why we need our own thing, our own crew, separate 

from La Costa Nostra, without all the rules, hell, without the chain of command. We tell New York to go

fuck themselves, we're gonna go our own way.' 

    Matteo looked at him dubiously. 'I'm serious. Right now, the FBI knows our whole chain of command,

and with the RICO laws, you, now that you're the boss, have a massive target on your bag, because were

all connected its one big enterprise. They can get you just for being part of our organization. But if we 

just operated in small crews, each one doing their own thing and not connected to you or any larger 

organization it might make it harder for them to track us and catch us. Like those Arabs, the terrorists, they

have these cells or small groups of guys, and each one only knows a little piece of what's going on but not

the whole picture.'

    Matteo rolled his eyes, 'I'll be sure to tell Dominik to run your idea up the chain of command.' He said

sarcastically. 'Look I'm gonna get a drink at the bar and I'm gonna go home, I'm tired. At least we got 

Eugene to agree to do what's right.' 'I'm going to hang out here for a little tonight. Got some stuff I got

to take care of.'

    Matteo got up put on his coat, 'That's fine, just lock the door here before you leave, and be careful. 

Dominick says we all have to keep a low profile now, after the fire at the restaurant cops looking at that, 

Mike getting shot, he think's its best if we keep thing as low key as possible, not make too many big

moves.'

    Steve grunted, 'Whatever you say. I know you think I don't like him anyway, but I wouldn't trust that

Dominick, watch what you say to him. Something's not right about him. I don't trust him.'

       'So now Eugene's mad that he has to pay us, and Steve is mad because he doesn't think it goes far

enough. Honestly, I think Steve just wants to take over Eugene's drug territory for the cartel and is just 

looking for an excuse to get him out of the way. I think he still think's its 1979 and he's 25 and his brother

is still running things.'

    Dominick nodded, 'Family, they're the ones that can piss you off the most.' He offered, as he pulled

unto Matteo's street. Matteo's one drink at the bar had turned into 3 and he was feeling sleepy as Dominck

pulled into this driveway.

    'Exactly.' Matteo agreed. 'But what's got me fucked up right now is, maybe he does have a point. I mean

my friend, a soldier in my family, is laid up there in that fucking coma, and for what? Because some 

asshole wanted to rip him off for a bag of coke? Something about it just seems off, like there has to be

more to it.'

        'Alright, boss I'll see you in the morning.' Dominick as at he put the car in gear. Matteo undid his seat

belt and grabbed his bag from the backseat. 

        'Sounds good,' Matteo said to Dominick as he headed to his car. 'Listen, man thanks for listening to

me and all my problems. I'll see you tomorrow.'

    'Yeah, sure thing boss, don't worry, you can talk to me, I don't tell Tony everything.' He said as he got 

into his car.

        I hardly have to ask him anything, he just tells me, Dominic thought as he finished the rest of his pint.

The bartender saw the empty glass and asked if he wanted a refill, Dominic nodded. He'd been driving 

Matteo around for the two weeks he'd been out in Warner, 'Supervising,' things in the Berardi Family for

his Uncle Tony. At least that's what Tony thought was going on. In reality he'd simply moved on from 

gathering and providing intelligence about the Carbone Family in Brooklyn to the FBI to gathering and

providing intelligence about the Berardi Family to the FBI.

        It was almost midnight at the Satellite bar where he'd gone after bringing Matteo back to his house. 

He'd always needed a drink after he'd gotten done talking with someone who was unwittingly providing 

him with information. He felt dirty, soiled. Even thought he'd been an informant for the FBI for over ten

years he still felt that way.  He'd been in the Carbone family for 30 years, and had been involved in 8

murders, 4 he'd just set the person up, 4 he'd actually pulled the trigger, and even those hadn't caused him 

to feel this dirty. 

        He took another draw of his beer, starting to feel euphoric. He liked the Satellite bar because it was

highly unlikely he'd run into Steve, Matteo or anyone in the Berardi's. The Satellite attracted a younger, 

hipper, crowd, college students, artists. 

       According to his handler, all of this would be ending soon, his life as a gangster. The RICO case 

they'd been building for years against his uncle Tony and other bosses in the Carbone Family was almost

complete and the indictments would be coming down soon. He'd have to testify, and then witness 

protection, and god knows what then, go to live in fucking Arizona or something and say my name is John

Smith.

    He finished off the rest of his beer, at least it's going to be over soon. A matter of weeks, his handler had

told him. He wasn't too worried about Matteo or even his Uncle Tony in New York finding out he was an

informant, they probably wouldn't make a move against him because of the heat, it was the Mexicans, the

one's they'd formed an alliance with against the Russians, that was who he was really worried about.

   Dominic pushed his glass forward and ordered another beer, relax, he thought, sure he'd be toast if they

knew, but how the hell would they find out? After all, he'd been giving the government information for 

almost 20 years.

        Soothing a guilty conscience, Raoul thought as he watched Dominic from a table across the bar. He'd

brought his girlfriend with him to the Satellite bar so he didn't look too obvious and he'd engaged in small

talk with her while watching his mark over at the bar. 

        Luis had instructed Raoul to keep tabs on Dominic since he'd come to town to supervise the Berardi

Family on behalf of the Carbone family two weeks ago. He wanted to know if Dominic was legit, if he

was really from the Carbone's in Brooklyn, and if he was, in fact, secretly informing for the FBI. He also

wanted hard proof, something he could take to Matteo to convince him it was true.

        To this end Luis was put a GPS on Dominics car and listening devices on the inside, as well as a tap

on his cellphone. In his 10 years as a detective in the Chicago Police's narcotics unit he'd learned a thing 

or two about electronic surveillance, he'd even tapped the landline at his Mother's house where he was 

living. 

    Neither phones had yielded anything interesting at first. For one thing Dominic didn't talk on the phone

much to begin with, and most of his conversations were brief. He called his uncle in Brooklyn every other

day, his girlfriend out there, various relatives, and someone named Leon. That one had stood out to Raoul.  

Then, a couple days ago he'd listened to a recording from Dominic's car that confirmed Luis's suspicions. 

    It it, Dominic discussed an upcoming RICO case against his Uncle Tony, asked about when he was 

going to be able to get off the streets, what other information did they want from him? Leon, the agent 

replying that he knew what they wanted, information on who carried out the Pagano hit, and anything

about where Matteo's father Sal Berardi, had gone on the lam to. 

      He knew that he could have ended his surveillance of Dominic then, having secured the information

Luis was looking for, but he wanted to have the most complete picture that he could gather about what

Dominics intentions were, most importantly, if they were looking at or going after them. 

    'Let's get out of here.' He said to his girlfriend, as he watched Dominic swig a fresh beer from the corner

of his eye. As he got up and walked out with his girlfriend he thought about what was going to happen

next, the only thing that could happen. Of course it would have to be clean, no body. He'd have to 

disappear, and he knew the job would likely fall on him. He felt sadness as he walked out of the bar, he 

was starting to kind of like the guy.

    At the same time Dominic was enjoying his beers at the Satellite bar downtown, Eugene was enjoying 

the unseasonably balmy fall night on his friend Marcus's porch with some beers and a bottle of Hennessy. 

Eugene took a long gulp of his beer, finishing off the rest. 

    'Damn, son, you thirsty tonight!' Marcus remarked laughing. 'Something on your mind got you that 

way?' He asked. Marcus was enjoying his friends company but he also remembered Eugene telling him 

that his doctor had told him he shouldn't be drinking at all, and he was slightly concerned for him.

    'You remember that time, back in the day when we had our thing, and Judge went all Huey Newton on

us one night?' He said.

    'MMMhmmm... hell yeah I remember that. He was talking about how there's plenty of us black vets out

there, guys we knew, who knew how to fight, how to use a gun.' Marcus recalled. 'How if we all just got

together, got some guns, we could just wipe out the Italians ourselves and take over this town.'

        'We had to talk him out of it.' Eugene remembered. 'Tell him it would never work, how it would just

end up getting us all killed.'

    Marcus picked up the bottle on the table between them and took a sip. 'I mean, I still think it was a bad 

idea but I understood where he was coming from. I hated paying street tax to those motherfucking Italians.

Ain't done nothing to earn it.' He spat over the porch railing.

    'Anyway, I was thinking about that today. You know Jamal right?' Marcus nodded. 'Yeah, that's your

main man right? Your trusted Lieutenant.' 

    Eugene sighed, 'Was my trusted Lieutenant, Marcus, was.' He got reached down to the cooler between 

them and grabbed a can of beer.

    'Didn't you say your doctor told you you weren't supposed to drink?' Marcus asked weakly. Eugene 

ignored the question and told him what had happened with Jamal. Killing the Russians, how he'd been all

fucked up from it after that, how he'd ended up shooting and almost killing a soldier in the Berardi family

over an ounce of coke.

    'So I was just talking to this kid Matteo, who's apparently the boss now. He tells me, because this guy is

in a coma in the hospital, and they don't know if, or when he's going to wake up, that I have to kick up

5,000 a month to these assholes until he recovers. I mean, shit what if he doesn't recover. And how the hell

am I responsible for Jamal getting all fucked up.'

    'It ain't right.' Marcus offered. He took a sip of his beer. 'But its not the most unreasonable thing I've 

ever heard, I mean the guys laid up. Situation like that, bills piling up, I don't think it's unreasonable for 

them to ask for something, but not every month until he's better, fuck all that. I'd tell them I can't do ityearevery month like that, but I'd offer them a one time sum. How the hell do they know it's Jamal who did

it anyway?'

    'Apparently the guy who got shot, Mike, called Steve before he went to meet him, asked if he wanted to

go along as backup. Told him he was a little worried, makes sense it was 1 in the morning meeting 

someone in that old dead mall lot.' Eugene explained. 

    'Mmmm hmmm, that's what I'd do. Of course I probably wouldn't meet someone at that time in the first

place, I'd tell them to call me in the morning.'

    Marcus took a pull of his beer, 'I mean suppose they have a problem with it, you not being able to make

these payments, suppose they don't want to just take a one-time sum, what're they gonna do? I mean, shit,

man you got more hitters than those assholes do right?'

    Eugene nodded, 'Yup, and don't forget I got my guns too. I don't want it to be like that but at the same 

time, I feel like they're forcing my hand. How am I responsible for something an associate of mine did? 

He's a grown ass man. And, you know, in spite of all he did he was still loyal to me for all those years. 

Shit, even if I knew where he was right now I wouldn't tell those assholes.' He spat, picked up the bottle

of cognac on the table between them and took a swig.

    'Well, you now they're going to try to track his ass down.' Marcus commented, 'Probably get those

Cartel people ya'll are involved with to do it. Anyway, I'd just tell him you can't afford to pay them that

each month and tell them what you can. Don't forget they don't have as many soldiers or the kinds of

connections with the cops that they did back in our day. To me it sounds like a bluff, a show of strength

when the truth of the matter is they weak as hell.'

    Eugene stood up slowly from his chair. 'You know, Marcus, my man, you're a hell of a lot smarter than

you look.' He remarked, grinning. 'I'm gonna go and walk my old ass home.'

    Marcus laughed, 'Man fuck you.' He said jokingly, and stood up shaking Eugene hand and hugging him.

'Good to see you brother, stop by anytime.' 'Good seeing you too, love ya brother.' Eugene replied.

    Steve stood in the security room in the house of Venus watching the cameras to see if Bob had arrived

yet. He was supposed to meet Steve at the club at one with the money and the time on the camera read 

1:15.

    I wonder if he smells a rat, Steve thought. I'm so close it it now, of course something would happen that

would fuck it all up. He'd known Bob from prison where he was a major drug dealer and shot caller for

an Aryan gang. They'd been cellmates for a time, not really friends, per se, but they'd had a few amicable

conversations. Mainly he'd talked about the crimes he'd done, murdered he'd committed, some truly 

heinous crimes, usually motivated by race. He'd had a flat tire in his car and was stranded on the side of 

the highway when a passing motorist stopped to offer help. Because the guy was black Bob had murdered

him with a tire iron, dragged the body into the woods by the side of the road and stole his car.

    Later, he and his friends had been drinking beer and watching TV when the news came on with the top

story about the man he'd killed. He'd told his friends that was him and they'd all laughed and gave him 

praise for it. He'd had plenty of stories just like that and they'd all creeped Steve out. The way he saw it, it

was just killing for the sake of killing, some sick-fuck, Jeffery Dahmer type shit. 

        He'd reconnected with Bob a couple months earlier through another guy he'd met in prison, Eddie. 

Eddie had been an associate of some connected guys from New Jersey, but since he'd gotten out he stayed

on the straight and narrow, for the most part. He still heard things. So when Steve told him he was looking 

for someone who was looking to buy some weight, Eddie had told him about Bob, he worked for Bob at

his junkyard, mainly because it was one of the few places that didn't care about his record. 

    Bob didn't trust the phone, Eddie said, so from then on to get in contact with Bob, Steve would have

to go through Eddie. When they'd finally met up at a local diner Bob had explained that he was looking for 

a good source of heroin, 10 kilos. His organization was planning on distributing it in the prison system but

so far all they'd been able to get their hands on was garbage, stepped on bullshit. 

    Not a problem, Steve had told him, he had an excellent source from Sinaloa, he could get it for him for

12,000 a key, high quality. Hell he'd even give him a bag so his people could test it. When he'd gone to

meet Bob for the first time to discuss the transaction he hadn't been planning on ripping him off, it was

only after he did some calculations after that the idea sprang into his head. 

    Hell, why shouldn't he get the 10 keys for himself with this assholes money? Then, as the scheme began

to form and he talked to Bob a little more it became even more attractive when he'd gotten the ransom

money from Boris, the Russian. Now he could really set himself up, have his own thing, more or less. He

was already talking to some guys he'd known in the joint, if they bee interested in joining his crew.

    A loud knock at the door of the security office knocked him out of his thoughts, he got up and walked

over to the door, 'Who is it?' He asked. 'It's Bob, I've been waiting out there for over 15 minutes asshole. I

asked the bartender and he told me you were in here. I got the money.'

    'Alright give me a second.' Steve replied.

        Got to be careful with this guy, Steve told himself as he counted up the money in the suitcase Bob 

had brought him. Back in prison they used to say he had eyes in the back of his head, he always knew 

when someone was planning to make a move. 

    Steve was sitting in the same office chair that Matteo had been in when they'd had their turbulent

meeting with Eugene a couple of hours earlier, with Bob seated across the desk. 

    'My guy tested that stuff you gave me.' He whistled, 'Very nice, impressive. So now that you got the 

money how is this going to work exactly?'

    Steve took a scrap of paper from the desk, jotted something on it and handed it to Bob. 'You're gonna

go to this address. It's a farmhouse. I know it's a little out there but there's been too much heat in town 

lately. You're gonna get there at 9 tomorrow and my friend is going to help you load up the stuff and have

you on your way.'

    Bob raised an eyebrow, 'You're friend? your not gonna be there? I'm just a little uneasy because that's

a lot of cash on the line there. My people would be very upset if something were to happen to it or me.' He

gave Steve a serious look.

    Bob broke the silence after a few second with a hearty chuckle, 'You're just busting my balls right?' He

joined in, cracking up.

    'Anyway,' Bob said when they were done. 'I know you're not stupid enough to try fucking with me.

Everyone whose tried that in the past has ended up in the ground.'

    Steve felt a chill go up his spine. He'd never admit it to anyone, but Bob scared the shit out of him. 'It's

just my associate, he's a good guy. Like I said it's a little out of the way but I figured this would be easier

for us anyway, less chance of us getting hassled. I'll call my buddy let him know you're on your way, he'll

load up the stuff and we'll have you outta there.'

    'That sounds good.' Bob smiled. 'But just in case you were planning anything, just know that my 

associates, the one's paying for this dope are going to be waited for me tomorrow night. If I'm not back by

a certain time they have orders to come back to this shithole club and blow it to hell along with everyone

in it.'

    'Really?' Steve asked. 'No,' Bob said. 'But they do know where I am, who I'm dealing with. It would be

a mistake on your part to think I wouldn't be missed.' He stood up.

   'Well then it's a good thing I'm not into things like that. I've seen to many friends of mine get killed over

bad deals like that.' Steve explained.

    'I hope so. Anyway, I'll have Eddie call you to let you know when I'm on my way.' He shook Steve's 

hand.'

    'Absolutely, sounds good.' Steve replied.

        Steve poured himself another large shot of tequila and pounded it down. Raul watched in disgust 

from the other side of the desk. He'd been dead asleep when Steve had called him at 2, he hadn't answered

but he'd kept calling, then, when Raul wouldn't pick up, sending text after text.

    There was a problem with the plan, it wasn't going to work out the way we have it, we have to talk 

about it, all something to that effect. He'd almost ignored them anyway, out of spite, but the truth of the 

matter was he was worried about it too.  

    'I think you should bring someone else in on it.' Steve explained, pouring another shot and offering it to

Raul who shook his head. 'Just in case he's on to you. This fucking guy, in the joint we used to say he had

fucking eyes in the back of his head.'

       Fucking drunks, Raul thought, how many times is he going to say that, he'd already said it at least 5

times as he was explaining his meeting with Bob when Raul arrived.

    'Well, it sounds like you got the money from him already.' Raul suggested. 'Why don't we just change 

the plan? I can probably track him down on my own, take care of it that way.'

        Steve downed the shot, winced, and shook his head. 'So what are you saying just blow him off? Then

he'll really know somethings up.'

    'Look, man, this was. your plan, you're the one who called me over here in the middle of the night, I'm

just trying to offer you some suggestions.'

    'I know, you're a good guy.' Steve said. 'You just got to be careful, in the joint they used to say this guy

had eyes in the back of his...

    Raul got up, 'I'm leaving.' He said. 'You should probably get some sleep man. Let me know when he's

on his way to the house. Don't worry I'll get someone as backup.'

    Steve poured himself another shot, 'Alright. I'll talk to you later.' He swallowed it down as he watched

Raul leave.

    Probably just pass out here, Steve thought as the room started to spin. For years his friends, family, had

all asked why, when he drank, he got so drunk. Why he had to get completely shitfaced, and blacked out. 

There would always be an awkward silence during these conversations and he never knew what to say. 

Because the real reason was simple, whenever he went to sleep, the dead haunted him. All the people he'd

killed over the years came back, chased him all through his dreams. Tormented him. Sometimes the booze

was the only thing that helped.