NationStates Jolt Archive

Friday, October 4th, 1933
West Highway 41, 4:00AM

The crash of a thunderhead sounded above as lightning wrenched the sky to the south. The rain was coming down sideways, drenching the road, making it too slick, fast, deadly. The windshield wipers of the ungainly ford boxtruck moved slowly back and forth as the engine groaned, weighted down against the upward slope by brown crates in the back. What the crates contained was a bit of information some people would have paid dearly for, perhaps killed for. At the moment, the driver was trying not to think about them, concentrating on guiding his vehicle along the bends of the road. He crested the hill and the engine heaved a sigh of relief. The wheels began to spin quickly as he descended, foot tapping the brakes. His headlights barely pierced ten feet in the driving rain.

Another flash of lightning and his heart stopped. There, ahead of him was the outline of a sedan, lined across the road. In a fit of panic he swerved the wheel, trying hard to avoid the obstruction, but his tired could not grip and as the front whells touched a muddy ditch, the truck slid, and turned onto its side, sliding over the wet road.

The driver touched his head and saw there was blood on his fingers. He summoned his strength and forced himself through the shattered front windshield, crawling out onto the wet pavement. He gasped for air, hand on his chest, feeling for broken ribs. He looked sideways, and saw the silhouette of a man, no, two men.

“Hey,” he gasped. “Call an ambulance.”

There was no response but the men kept coming on. He saw a gesture towards the truck and one of the men turned and walked over to the back. There was a shout and another two men followed him. The driver struggled against blacking out as the first man continued coming on. He looked up and beheld the rough outline of a face.

“Hey man, come on. Call an ambulance. I’m hurt bad.”

The man stood there. There was a shout from behind and he turned, walking over behind the overturned truck. The three men were unloading crates now, moving back towards the car. The first silhouette walked back over to the driver. As his mind wavered he saw the man reach into his coat.

Bam. A single gunshot against a thunderstrike and the driver collapsed.

Antolini Importers, Little Italy, 8:00AM

Don Corrado Antolini sat forward in the leather desk chair, his form relaxed, but his eyes focused intently on Paul Campanelli.

“Who’d the truck belong to?”

“No one knows. Whoever was running the shipment kept it a damn good secret.”

“Not good enough, apparently.”

“Yeah. Apparently. But whoever hit it was sure as hell well informed.”

The Don nodded and sat back in his chair, bringing a hand decorated with a single gold ring to scratch the side of his face.

“There’s gonna be reprisals,” Campanelli spoke.

“The peace is shaky as it is. We don’t need this now. We can’t handle it. A war would tear us all apart.”

"Yeah, and now somebody's got his hands on a truckful of new guns."

The Don was silent, thinking. He nodded to himself.

“I want you to organize a meeting. This afternoon. The Berenger Hotel in midtown.”

“I’ll get on it.”

The Don got to his feet and patted Paul on the shoulder.

The Crime Scene

As it was a murder Chief Foster decided to go to the crime scene personally. His driver had taken him in the ancient Ford that many people thought actually outdated the invention of the car and now he was standing in the middle of a road just outside of his city with only his thick police issue overcoat preventing him from freezing.

At least it isn’t raining anymore was his only thought as he turned his face back into the wind.

The standard white chalk mark showed where the body had been and the remains of the truck were being slowly dragged off of the road to allow full traffic flow. What had been in it they didn’t know, all they did know was that a man, probably the driver, was dead from a bullet wound. The two detectives assigned to the case where there but had very little to do, no witnesses to take statements from, no empty cases to collect and try to identify. The senior of the two approached the Chief and touched his hat in recognition.

“Looks like a straight hit on somebody’s truck Chief. Completely clean, no witnesses or anything out here. I’d say mafia with good information, aside from that no idea.”

“There’s nothing at all?”

“Nope. The driver was even frisked and his wallet taken, don’t even have a name on him yet.”

“Alright Jack. I’m going to head back in. Chase it as much as you think reasonable. I pray to god this isn’t the start of another bloody war.”

“You said it Chief” the detective put a hand to his brow and the other swept back his coat to be placed on his hip. It revealed his shoulder holster with Colt 1911 and the similar weapon on his belt holster, one for the right and one for the left hand.

From that position he watched as the Chief walked back to his car. As it left he turned to his partner and the dozen or so uniformed officers that stood around now that the scene had been cleared up.

“Ok boys, lets head back into town. Dunno about you but I could do with a doughnut and a think!”

Home of Abe Minsky: October 4, 1933.

Abe Minsky was in a sour mood as he waited for Morton Sheinfeld to arrive. Could the man never be on time? He sat reading the paper and listening to the radio. 5 minutes later Sheinfeld finally arrived. Abe stood up as the maid showed him in.

"What the hell took you so long?" asked Abe impatiently.
"I'm sorry. I got delayed." said Sheinfeld.
"Oh, you got delayed. That's a fine excuse, Mort. Was she worth it?" he asked.
Sheinfled wisely chose not to answer that. "Did you hear about that truck driver they found dead on 41 last night?" asked Sheinfeld.
"No, the news saw full of the usual BS from Washington. So, this truck, one of ours?"
"No. Not ours, but I'll be damned if I know whose it is. My informant didn't know. He did say the driver was running guns, though."
"So why should I care?" asked Abe. "it didn't affect us, there's nothing to trace to us, so who gives a shit?"
"Well, Abe" said Morton "A large shipment of guns, no one knows who they were meant for, no one knows who intercepted it. I don't know about you, but I'm worried. Could be someone trying to move in, or worse trying to push others out. Apparently, it's got Antolini worried. He's calling for a meeting."
"A meeting?" asked Abe "has that putz gone completely meshugga? What does he think that will do, except attract attention we don't want?"
"We can at least hear him out, Abe" said Sheinfeld "if this is someone trying to move in, the amount of guns there were said to be shows that whoever is behind this is serious."
"Alright, alright. When and where?"

It was half past one in a restaurant with cushioned chairs and fancy silverware. The sun shown in from purple curtain-decorated windows and the room was half full. At the door stood two imposing young men in worker’s clothes looking up and down the street for unfamiliar faces. Inside, barely noticeable in one the corner tables sat Manuel Silveira, the man who ran Little Lisbon. H was a tall, dark-skinned man with thinning black and grey hair and a same-coloured moustache. His brow seemed to hold the weight of the world on it and his eyes hinted to a wisdom born of a violent, miserable upbringing. And yet, here he sat in a comfortable grey suit nursing an espresso after his lunch. Everybody in this part of town knew his face, his name, his reputation. He was well respected by every person in the neighbourhood and his word was final in all affairs.
His brother-in-law, Joao da Costa walked in through the kitchen swinging door and extended his hand to Silveira which he promptly shook.
“Sit down. Have you eaten?” Manuel was a hospitable man. He raised his hand to a waiter and called out an order for Joao in Portuguese.

“Not yet, thank you. I’ve been busy all day with the clothing factory and all the orders we’ve been getting from out of town. One of Corrado Antolini’s runners stopped by earlier, about the unfortunate business from last night. It seems it was a gun shipment. He wants to have a sit down at the Berenger“.

If Manuel was at all concerned about this piece of information his face didn’t let on to it. “Any news on who the owner might be?”

“No. And we don’t know who made the hit either. It was quick and smooth. I don’t like it. Somebody we don’t know got a free load of guns that was meant to go to someone else we don’t know.”

Joao's plate came and he poured himself a glass of red wine. Manuel continued:

“For all we know, it was going to him. Every family, street gang and hooker runs guns in this town except us. This new thing is liable to make everything go south. We can’t have a bloodbath. That’s bad for business. Have one of our people tell Antolini I’ll meet him there.”

Don Antonioi was in a foul mood. The delivery of guns that was intended to ship out the previous day had gotten.. interupted. He had his informants out for the past day, scouring the streets trying to find information on who did the hit on his driver but nothing had turned up yet.

Now, he was hearing that some of the other families were planning on meeting to discuss the problem.

"at least nobody knows the guns were ours" He muttered under his breath.
Somebody was going to pay for what they had done.

Gemma rubbed her eyes and glanced up at the old clock hanging on the far wall of the small cramped back room. 8:25, she sighed gratefully and set down the corset she had been working on. It was a pretty thing; in the dim light that filtered through the doors it shimmered softly, like a cast off jewel. Just like me, she thought, besides the fact that I am not pretty. Despite what every one she had ever met told her, Gemma never considered her self to be beautiful.
She quickly closed up the shop in the waning light and without a backwards glance she turned right and headed up the docks. She had more or less commandeered the loft of and old wear house and wanted to get there before it got dark.

"But father! Look at the opportunity laid out for us. Somebody hit somebody, a war will start, and all will be distracted as our strength grows, all the others falter." said Ali.

"Listen son, one single wrong move and all we have worked for will go down the drain. You hear me?" replied Adam, the head of the family.

"You don't understand. A wrong move isn't even availible to us. It's a win-win situation. I'll call up one of the other families, after evaluation and we'll forge an alliance."

"AN ALLIANCE?! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT'LL COST US?! MONEY. TIME. AND BLOOD. We are allied to OURSELVES. Until the war comes to the homefront, we need no allies. Have patience, we must wait this out."

Ahmed, the younger son decided it was time to speak up. "Ahem. Father. What of our arms shipments? Shouldn't we tune it down a bit for the sake of the business?"

Adam remained silent as he pondered. But Ali was pondering as well. He knew if shipments increased, the chances of war would increase as well.

OOC: Cenanan (and others), if my post is somehow "impossible", = strictly against what you had in mind, let me know and I'll edit.

WHAM. WHAM. WHAM.

O'Curran raised the suspect's head from the table, and turned it so that he could see the man's eyes again. The look in those eyes was somewhat confused, so he slapped the Italian with his open left hand. Last three WHAM's, hit-the-face-against-the-table's, had broken his nose and few teeths were missing, so the confusion was rather understandable. It was still no excuse to not answer this simple question.

"One more time, asshole! I take no shit anymore from you, hear me? Tell me the family and I'll let you live. I know you know, and you know that I know that you know..."

The last sentence made him feel a bit uncertain, it was getting too complicated for this man of short sentences, but he tried not let it show.

"The Jews? Russians? Macaronis?"

"Luigi", as he knew this poor bastard, shook his head and tried to say something. O'Curran gave him one additional WHAM, just in case, and stared him in the eyes.

"Na-nardgrllll-FTHU!" He spit some blood on his pants - "..ducci. And I'm d-d-dead now...when I said it. I will die! Y-you murderer..."

Thomas Adair O'Curran was insulted. Insulting an Irishman is a no-no, especially when that Irishman stands right behind you, is two heads taller and four times stronger than you are, holds your neck and has been WHAMm'ing your face to the table for the last ten minutes. But Luigi obviously didn't know this.
Good for him, O'Curran had already got the information he was looking for, and didn't feel like killing this fucker. He jerked the man up, and and gave him a tough left hook to the upper stomach. Luigi fell to his knees, gasping for air.

O'Curran spit on him, saying simply:

"See? You're still alive. I ain't no murderer."

He thought for a second, and added;

"They don't know that you told me, and I will not tell them. No reason to worry..."

He turned around and walked to the door of the small, messy apartment. There he turned, and threw with a grin;

"...as long as you continue to cooperate!"



He left the building and decided to go and get few beers before heading back home. It was late already, and he ddin't feel like getting to the station anymore. He headed to the Dublin Tenements. It wasn't a long walk from the Palley Slums - in where this recent "investigations" had taken place - but enough to give him some time to think about the results.

Tom O'Curran wandered down the street, pretty slowly. He was deep in his thoughts, and didn't pay much attention to the world and people around him. He never dashed against anyone, even when he didn't look forward. He never had to push people, even in the most crowded places, to have room. There was always space in front of him. He was a really big man, "somewhere between old oak and gorilla" like one of his old shipmates had said, years ago.

Yes, he was indeed thinking all the time. Big, scary, violent, all true. But stupid? No. His mind worked like a car in the winter. It needed some time to warm up before reaching it's top speed and efficiency. This was true when in bed with a lady, too. To think about it, violence was propably the only thing he was always immediately ready for, and didn't need any warming or preparing.

This, however, wasn't what he was thinking about. It was this attack against a truck, that had taken place last night. The driver had been shot, cargo taken. O'Curran had visited the crime scene, and it had been immediately clear that it was the Mob behind this. In all ways - the truck hadn't been on legal trip, a mob's truck obviously, and the killers had also been from organized criminal syndicate of some sort. No doubt of it.
That's why he had went to see Luigi in the slums of Panhandle Alley. Luigi, his old and trusted source of information, had been somewhat reluctant to answer his questions, but he had been stubborn. When Thomas O'Curran went stubborn, he got what he wanted. Always. This case was no exception.

Luigi, who had a cheap but reliable garage in the Downtown, had traditionally very good connections to the underworld and different Italian-oriented mafia families. It supplied them with cheap but reliable trucks and cars, vehicles with or without a history of some sort, true or faked, with original, new or no number-plates.

O'Curran had decided to try his luck, and it hadn't failed. After his initial question he saw immediately that Luigi knew, that it was indeed Luigi's truck, sold to someone whose cargo had now been robbed. Narducci family... the family that controlled the docks.
Luigi had sold it a week ago (OOC: Again, if this whole thing doesn't fit just say it), to one of the soldiers of that family, and he had been told to forget this particular car even better than all the other cars he sold to the mob. And he had, indeed. But O'Curran knew the right methods, and with his assistance Luigi managed to recall the name of the family.

Already in front of the door of his favourite pub, "Leinster Leprechaun", Thomas "woke up" and lit a cigarette before getting in. Thick wall of smoke and warm, noisy talk and laughing greeted him. He smiled, and forgot Luigi, murders, mobsters and the whole misery of this town for the next few hours.

Erik Breitenstine sat with his wife at a table waiting for his meal to arrive. He appeared calm, but he had been busy. His German mob was steadily growing. His Enforcers were ready to make the final push against another rival mob.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ulrich waited for the oppurtune moment to strike. He and his twenty men, all armed with Tommy guns and Molotov Cocktails. As the leader of the rival mob walked out off his house, the enforcers struck. They mowed down the Boss, his men, and his family. Then, they robbed his house, smashed his car, and hurled the cocktails into the house, effectivly putting an end to the rival mob. Ulrich smiled evilly.

Don Antonio sat in his office. Despite having men out looking for information, nothing had turned up yet.

"Pietro" he barked, "Get in here"

Pietro Renzo's short stocky frame soon filled the door to the office "Yea boss?" he asked.

"Pietro, somebody knew those guns were being shipped. That means that somebody talked. Somebody hit us and unless we find out who and deal with them, we are going to loose all manner of respect. I want you to go down to Luigi's. Take Jonathan and a few of the boys with you. Luigi's the only one who knew those trucks belonged to us and I want to know who he talked to." Antonio reached into his cigar box and lit a stogie. "Find out what happened and do it quick"


"Yes Don Antonio" Pietro turned and exited the room. "Jonathan, get a couple of men that you trust and get a few of the cars. We're goin to Luigi's."


Five minutes later a pair of model 30U's were seen exiting the docks district. It only took them a few minutes to reach Luigi's Auto Yard and they wasted no time in pulling in to the garage...

Number 42, Edgemont Avenue. The second crime scene

Two uniformed policemen had been the first on the scene. They had approached the burning shell of a house just before a firetruck sped round the corner with men hanging off of it.

On seeing the dead bodies they holstered their revolvers, obviously whoever had done this was long gone. One of the two promptly ran to the nearest police telephone to summon more men and the invesigators who would be very interested in this one.


Two and a half hours later the fire was completely out and the area was swarmed with officials, police officers and reporters. Several bodybags had been taken away and there were several hundred spent cases being picked up from the sidewalk where they had fallen. It hadn't taken the police long to identify them as .45 calibre thompson submachinegun rounds and the amount of bullet holes in the victims and surrounding walls had already tipped off some of the more astute observers.

Once again Cheif Foster and his lead detective were at the scene. It could be no coincedence that this happened less than a day after a large shipment of something went missing. The amount of Thompson's used here would suggest it was guns and that they had found there way into these people's hands and they had then thought it necessary to "test" them.

However that was purely speculative at this point. They had several dead people, including a woman and at least one child, and once again nobody in the surrounding area was talking. It had big time Mafia writen all over it. Only thing they needed now was some proof.

Just a day after the massacre, Erik sat in his house, congratulating Ulrich for his job. "Ulrich my friend, do you realize what you have done? You have made me the most powerful man in Germantown."

"It was my pleasure." Ulrich said quickly. And it was. He had a love of combat in any form. It reminded him of his old war days.

"However, Ulrich, I have more work for you to do. You'll be in it alone on this one. According to what I've been told, a truck full of weapons was found. I want to know who was making those weapons. I hold the arms manufacturing business in Germantown, but i I want to expand, I'll need to know my competition. Start out by searching Little Lisbon. Good luck."

Ulrich nodded. He walked out of the room and went to his car. He opened the trunk and took out a suitcase and walked into an alley. He opened it, and examined the weapons it contained. He put the knife and .357 magnum on his belt, and hoisted the tommy gun over his shoulder. Than he threw on a coat to conceal the weapons and drove off to Little Lisbon.

Young boys were easy to pay. The promise of candy or free steaks to take home bought the local organization an army of ever-present lookouts. The best of them would, one day, be initiated to the business. As a whole, Portuguese immigrants are a close-knit community, religious and conservative. They’re generous and hospitable but not to people looking for trouble. A group of boys playing on Abbot spotted an unfamiliar car coming from the North industrial district, better known as Germantown. A succession of whistles and yells in Portuguese alerted the soldiers in Little Lisbon of the visitor. In just a few seconds Antonio Silveira, Manuel’s brother was aware of what was going on. He turned to one of his men and ordered him to watch for where the car stopped.

“Let’s be calm about this one. It might be nothing. In any case, if he wants to talk business that’d be better than if he wants trouble.”


Meanwhile, at the Berenger Hotel

Manuel Silveira sat at a long table with several other ‘distinguishable gentlemen’. No bodyguards allowed in the room as was the custom. He looked at Corrado Antolini and taciturnly spoke:

“Let’s get down to business, Antolini. Why call a sit down?”

Saul Minsky was unhappy. Why this meeting? Why did his father bring him and Moleman along? He hated waitng, and he hated not even knowing, much less controlling what went on. He looked over at Sheinfeld. Smarmy dandy. what did Rose see in that schmuck? More important, what did his father see in him?

-----------------------------------------------


Abe Minsky went into the meeting room. Yeah, they were all there, alright. Silveira, Breitenstien, the others. And there was Antolini, looking like he was going to his own funeral.
"Alright, I'm here. What the hell is this all about? I'm a busy man."

Corrado looked around the table, into the eyes of every man who had decided to show. There were a couple of missing faces. He knew already that they wouldn't have been responsible for the previous night's events. No one was stupid enough to not show up after pulling that kind of stunt. He nodded and got to his feet, letting his rough, baritone voice fill the quiet room of the elegant midtown hotel.

"Gentlemen, I'd like to thank you for coming. As Don Silveira has already expressed, most of you are wondering aloud the reason for this meeting, though I am certain you are all aware of the events of last night. What happened threatens to undermine the stability we have enjoyed for the past two years, possibly even bring out another war, something none of us can handle at the moment. Such a turn of events would most certainly destroy us. The police, the FBI, the mob squads, all are looking for blood, and we are outnumbered and outgunned. If we turn on each other at this time, then we are only making their job easier. I ask now, from the standpoint of reason and logic, that we work this business out for the preservation of our own interests."

He paused and looked around the table.

"I won't ask who the truck belonged to, or who attacked it. That is the business of both parties to settle on their own, but I open this floor as a forum for reasonable negotiation, lest the settling of the matter be left to the soldiers in the street. I reiterate that no family in this city can afford a war. We are small, and now we are divided."

Don Antonio removed the cigar from his mouth "I agree. If anything we need to work together now more then ever. With such a large amount of weapons now on the street, the police and FBI are going to be putting even more pressure on us. If we all work seperatly then it wont be hard for them to find a weak spot." He paused to take a drag from the cigar " The Narducci family is willing to work with you."

Something was odd. It wasn’t that Corrado Antolini was calling for cooperation; it was that Antonio Narducci, a staunch rival of Antolini, had agreed so quickly.
Silveira slowly put his strong, tanned hands upon the table. A white gold ring with a red stone easily set itself apart from Silveira’s brown skin and the mahogany table. Peace was essential, yes. But if either party refused to come forward this forum of discussion was doomed to fail. And falling in line with Antolini’s agenda might be seen as subservience. He decided to put his counterparts at ease and act in good will as well as try to fish out the ones involved in the hit from the night before.

“That’s fine. It’s in all our interests to stay out of the Feds’ eyes. They get nosier everyday. And this hit is bad for everyone. The Feds will come looking in all the neighbourhoods. They won’t let us rest till they’ve got us all by the balls. The previous owners want them back; the new ones want to keep them for some reason. That’s not good. So, it’s my opinion that whoever made the hit should just dump the guns where we can see them so everyone knows nobody has them.”

Manuel looked around patiently for someone to flinch at the thought of losing their goods.

Corrado, who had by now retaken his seat, looked around the table, watching for the same signs as Silveira. The Portuguese was a clever one indeed.

Don Antonio's face remained impassive. Inside he was furious. He thought to himself "And when they do put them out in the open.. we will have revenge for those lost."

Erik walked into the meeting late. "Sorry for the latness Gentlemen, I had some business to attended to. Any way, I understand this is to avoid war. Well, I agree, but first I want to know who's truck that was. I am the prime weapons dealer and maker in Germantown, and if it's close to there, I will be troubled. If it isn't then I am completely for a truce."

"I'm in favor of this also," said Abe Minsky "we can't afford to be at each others' throats right now. We have better things to do, I'm sure."

Antonio sighs "The truck was ours. Incidentaly, we got them from Luigi who for some reason.. was not at his shop today. This fact alone is bad news."

Gemma found her self wondering. she was thinking over the news that was slowly creeping its way throught the streets, the different mob bosses of the city were getting together to talk; this was not a good sign. she stoped out side of one of the many hotels in town, one that was usualy dark, but to night the lights were on, she raised an eye brow, slighly confused and waked over to try and look through the windows.

Bump

Tagged this thread has been.

--Yoda

the outside of the windows were covered in a thick layer of grim, sighing she used the sleave of her coat to rub a small area clear. There were several men seated around a table. after a moment of watching she gently pushed on the window and it opend a crack, alowing her to hear what was beening said.
now i just have to mannage to not get cought... Gemma though to herself.

Corrado's ears perked at Antonio's revelation. He had not pictured the man as a particularly bold one. His running of such shipments proved this assumption wrong, but his loss of a particularly important one did little to change anyone's assumptions regarding his intelligence.

"Don Antonio, your revelation here is appreciated in light of our discussion. I ask now that you give your word that there will be no reprisals on your part that would lead to a city-wide war. These would be selfish actions, that would lead to the downfall of all of our organizations."

The door swung open, and Edgar Hennessy walked through, followed by two men in dark trenchcoats, with barely concealed tommy guns by their sides. These two stood near the door. Another man, dressed in a brown coat and hat, kept both his hands in his pockets as he shadowed Hennessy. As his boss sat down, the poker-faced bodyguard stood behind the chair and looked around the room. Hennessy nodded and spoke.

"My friends, I offer my most humble apologies for my tardiness. I meant no disrespect, and I am grateful to Don Antolini for calling this meeting. Please pardon the interruption and continue."

With that he fell silent, and waited for the conversation to resume.

Don Antonio looked up briefly as the newcomer arrived then turned back to the assembled leaders "While I cannot explicitly promise that there will be no repurcussions I will do my best to prevent them. The families of the drivers will be unhappy about this. However, if the family that was the cause of this were willing to... give some sort of compensation i'm sure we could let it go this time. An all out war would be disasterous with the police acting the way they are. If anything, the guilty family should be hung out to dry for doing such a thing openly in the public eye without any attempt to hide it."

Police Headquarters

Chief Foster sat in his plush office on the fifth floor of the newly refurbished building that served as the police headquarters. Arrayed on his desk were several mug shots along with pictures of the recent crime scenes and brief summaries of what the investigating detectives thought. Total body count so far was a relatively modest 9 and they had recovered nearly 400 spent cases of ammunition from the second scene, all being .45 Thompson.

The Chief looked at those present in his office. Two Captains of Uniformed police, his detective Captain and the two detective lieutenants who were on this case.

“Well boys, we have no witnesses willing to talk, no suspects at all, no evidence aside from enough empty cases to have come from an army training range. I need reasons not to close this case.”

“The Press, Chief. They have been screaming around my office for the past two hours demanding to be told about the ongoing investigation.”

“I can handle the press Paul. If we say case closed its case closed. But your right, we have to be seen to be doing something about it or else the Mayor will be on my back. Have you two shaken the usual bushes?” he pointed at the two detectives, who looked at each other briefly before the taller of the two removed a pad from his suit jacket pocket.

“Chief. Don Antonio has called a meeting. Word on the street was that it is to discuss who was behind the incidents because he is worried it gives us a reason to crack down on them. Aside from that, people reckon that it was an internal German thing that resulted in the spray and pray down on the avenue.”

“All very interesting, but nothing concrete. Where is that meeting taking place?”



Fifteen minutes later two police vans left the Headquarters packed full of policemen. They wound their way through the streets and set up near to the hotel. The men only carried their sidearms, their purpose was not to provoke the gangs, merely to remind them of who ran the city. Using barriers they had brought with them they set up a brief road checkpoint, of the sort usually used to stop illegal road shipments, on the road right outside the hotel.

Actions spoke louder than words.

Thomas O'Curran marched into the police HQ, nodded to some of the guys and took a cup of coffee from a young policeman who was sitting behind his desk, doing some paperwoek. Youngster jumped up with an angry expression, like he was going to start to shout, but sat back to his chair after facing the grandpa-look&smile of the scarred older officer.

Sipping his hot coffee O'Curran made his way towards chief Foster's office. He knocked two times and opened the door without slowing his speed for one moment.

"Good morning, chief. It was Narducci truck."

He pulled a chair under him and leaned back.

"Luigi, the car dealer, told it last night. He has propably told it to the attackers too. Unfortunately I forgot to ask that... he had to know who they were."

He gulped down the rest of the coffee and lit a cigarette, glancing at Foster.

"He's propably dead now. Where are everybody, by the way? The station is half empty. Don't tell me you sent them to attack the mobster meeting without inviting me?!"

Chief Foster laughed at that.

"No Thomas, I've sent some men just to make sure that they know we are still around and well informed about their activities despite the lull over the past few years....... It should also make their journeys home just that little bit slower and also discourage any of them from violence right there."

Foster picked up a cup of tea from his desk. Tea was much more civilised that this coffee nonsense that most people drank. Or maybe that was his British ancenstery coming through.

"Have you found out what the truck was carrying? Or indeed who has whatever it was now?"

Smile on O'Curran's face melted away, and he inhaled sharply.

"No. That I don't know. Canadian whiskey, tobacco, guns... It can be anything, really."

He kept a short pause, raised his head and stared Foster in the eyes.

"Why don't we arrest Narducci boss and ask him? I can make him to talk, no problem. This is a perfect chance for us! We know where he is, and we have men in there already. I can get my Steamrollers there in ten minutes also, and we'll catch that bastard!"

"Its tempting Tom. I don't want those guys thinking they can do anything, have a meeting with themselves and sort it out. We are the law here, remember that."

The Chief looked into his tea for a minute, trying to decide. O'Curran was obviously anxious to go down there and for once Foster shared his enthusiasm.

"Alright. Take a few more men down there. Try and do it without bloodshed if you can. We have enough bodies in the morgue at the moment. I'd like Mr Narducci in one piece though, especially with evidence this thin on the ground."

"YES SIR!"

O'Curran jumped up like a panther, spinning in the air to face the door. He was out of the room before two full seconds had passed from the moment chief had granted his permission, and Foster could hear his deep, echoing voice moving further and further in the station building.

"Hey guys! We have a job waiting! Get Thompsons and shotguns, we'll go to meet Mr.Narducci and the rest of the wannabe-capones in there..."

Seven men sitting around the room stood up and ran to the "gun closet", grabbing weapons. They were the Steamrollers, seasoned veteran police officers most of whom had worked under O'Curran's command for years now. They laughed and joked all the time, but moved quickly. Standing in the doorway, O'Curran explained the situation and hurried them.ordering his men took some extra ammunition and weapons for the lightly armed regular policemen that had already been sent to the meeting place.

The group of eight heavily armed policemen ran out of the building then, jumping into two Ford Sedans.
They drove like maniacs, heading straight to Little Italy.

The bullet proof limousine cruised easily along the road towards the meeting. Two small time thugs had tried to rob a convenience store protected by the Julaii family, while some family members were in the store. Marcus personally oversaw their punishment. As soon as he was finished he made his way to his small waiting motorcade and began the short drive to Little Italy. The Juliaii and Giovanni family were neutral towards each other and so the cars merely got some hunched eye brows as they cruised through towards Little Italy.

As the limousine went to make a turn a police motorcade greeted the driver’s eyes. It was a short distance down the road, yet on the way to the hotel. As such the driver continued straight and made the next right, pulling up in the rear of the block with the hotel.

“Octavian, I want you to take three armed men with you and make your way through the backstreets and the alleys to the meeting. Do not go in the front door, it will be watched; use the secret entrance. Inform the families of the police’s presence, I doubt they will stay put for too long. Return with any dons who need safe extraction and my effigy; he may inform me of the meeting once we hook up back in our territory. I shall leave two armored cars for your transportation. I am going to make my way back and prepare the boys, I smell something wrong in the air today.”

And with that four men stepped out of the limousine as it and what remained of the escort sped off. With silent nods and the snap of buttons underneath the dark trench-coats the men made their way down streets bathed in darkness. After a short winding path Octavian and his men came to a small staircase leading down to a thick brown metal door. He knocked and muttered, “Juliaii family.” A small viewing slot in the top of the door slid open and a pair of blue eyes peered out. As quickly as it opened it noiselessly slid shut followed by several dull clicks and thuds. The door swung open and a dim light crept into the alley, after the four men entered the door shut; once more making darkness the king.

After following a winding passage with many thick open metal doors Octavian came face to face with a gruff Italian man in a slick black jacket. His face allowed a small smile to creep on as he muttered, “Good to see you again.” With nothing more than that he walked up the stairs behind him, unlocking and opening the door at the top. The man led Octavian and his party to the meeting room where he then turned around and headed back to the tunnel.

“Mr. Juliaii is very sorry that he will not be able to make it. However, we must leave too, along with the man here in Marcus’ place. I would advise all of you to do the same. On our way here we saw police roadblocks guarding the street to this hotel. Mr. Juliaii has instructed me to inform you that we have two armored cars waiting at the other end of the block to transport any willing to go with us back to either the east slums or their own turf. We must go through an underground passage to get there and some winding alleys, but there the cars should be waiting. It is entirely your decision whether or not to come, but Mr. Juliaii feels that something is to happen.”

Jonathan Narducci was nervous. Pietro Renzo had taken him to Luigi's shop with some of the other soldiers only to find Luigi missing on one of his normal work days, nobody on the lot had seen where he had gone. Now he had come home to find that his father had gone to a meeting with the rest of the Don's.

"Pietro.. we gotta go tell my Dad what happened there. He could be sitting in a trap and would not even see it coming. he only took Two men with him so they are just sittin out in the open!"

Pietro looked out the window of the warehouse. The men were milling about, they should have been unloading the trucks but for some reason they had not arrived yet. "Jonathan, if your going to replace your father when he turns over the family to you, your going to have to think bigger then that. What if its not another family that took Luigi. What if its the cops." He looked outside at the empty parking lot and then at his watch. "In fact, that would explain a few things. We would have heard by now if another family was interfearing with todays load but if was the police.." Pietro made a gesture to one of the soldiers. "Get Richard and six or seven soldiers. Arm yourselves with some of the stuff we have waiting to ship out and then get the cars. We are going to pick up the Don, something isnt right here."

Pietro reached over and picked up his tommy-gun. "Jonathan. Your staying here with Fernando till we get back.


Pietro exited the office into the main floor of the warehouse. He saw a few men loading into their respective cars, glancing over them on his way down the stairs he counted 3 with what looked like BAR's and an equal number with Tommy-guns. "Hm.." He thought "At least we will have a chance to test out those new guns before we sell em. They look kinda heavy tho" He took his seat in the first of 3 cars, Richard loaded into the last leaving room for the Don in the center. The cars roared out of the warehouse, taking the shortest path to The Berenger Hotel.

He looked over at the driver of his car. "keep an eye out Rick. I dont want us driving into a trap."

The trio of cars shortly arrived at the police roadblock. "Cops Boss!" reported Rick. "we gotta go another way!"

"Your right Rick. This isnt safe. Take us around back and lets see if they have that covered" Pietro glared at the nearest officer.. "how the hell did they find out about this meeting so fast.."


Inside the hotel:
“Mr. Juliaii is very sorry that he will not be able to make it. However, we must leave too, along with the man here in Marcus’ place. I would advise all of you to do the same. On our way here we saw police roadblocks guarding the street to this hotel. Mr. Juliaii has instructed me to inform you that we have two armored cars waiting at the other end of the block to transport any willing to go with us back to either the east slums or their own turf. We must go through an underground passage to get there and some winding alleys, but there the cars should be waiting. It is entirely your decision whether or not to come, but Mr. Juliaii feels that something is to happen.”

"Police?" Antonio looked startled "Here? Now? How did they find out?" He looked around at the other families in attendence. "What do you think of this. I personally do not like the idea of being arrested, but at the same time they have no viable reason for coming in here.. Unless.."

Antonio stood up and looked towards the back door." I'm sorry Don Antolini. Not to show disrespect but I do not think this meeting is safe anymore."

Outside the back of the hotel:

Richard was surprised, there were other cars here waiting as well. "Rick. keep the car running, I'm going to go get the Don" He stepped out of the car, walked up to the back door and knocked. "Its Richard with the Narducci's, I'm here to pick up the Don"

The doorman looked out the slot at Richard. There was a few thudding noises as the deadbolts were slid back and the door creaked open to admit him. Richard quickly stepped inside and looked to the doorman "Where is the meeting room, its urgent" The man led him down the halls to the meeting room and unbolted the door. Richard stepped inside, almost running into Antonio who was about to leave. "Sir, We gotta go. There are cops waiting outside."

"I know Richard, we were informed of that but a short while ago. I trust you have transportation waiting?"

They both stepped into the hall, Richard leading.

"Yes Sir, We have three cars waiting outside." Richard paused, unsure of how to proceed. "Boss, Luigi was not at his shop, We think he might have talked. Not only to our attackers but to the cops. It would explain alot."

Antonio stopped in the hall and looked at Richard. "Tell the men, If they see Luigi I want him brought in at once. If he is not found before tomorrow I want you to hire an independent to find him. Nobody, and I mean NOBODY, betrays my trust." He paused to calm himself. "lets go. I feel exposed out here."

The men proceeded out to the cars and got in. The vehicles turned and began the trip back to the docks.

OOC: Just a note, I had imagined that the back of the hotel was more of an alley with other buildings behind that for a little bit, if it was just a street the cops would probably have it covered.

Adding on here to save form spamming the thread.

Like This (http://usera.imagecave.com/obsterray/MobHotelMeeting.PNG) or possibly less buildings behind hotel. But if it was just a street I expect the cops would have it blocked off, but I think they still have backstreet blocked off, and so tunnel provides secret movment.

The yellow is underground.

/ooc That would work as well, I thought the passage was underground or was harder to get to from the sides.

((OOC: The hotel is downtown, not in Little Italy. The map Borman used is still fine though, even if it's not actually downtown on the big map.))

As the Juliaii representative made his announcement, a tall, bespectacled man in a dark suit entered the room discreetly through the main door, moving over to Don Antolini and bending down to whisper something in his ear. The Don nodded and the man disappeared back into the lobby as Narducci got to his feet. As he finished, Antolini rose.

"Gentlemen, I am sorry to say Don Narducci is correct. This meeting is no longer safe, and for your own sakes, I would suggest you leave immediately. However, we have discussed the matters at hand and many have voiced opinions. Consider matters carefully. I will be in touch."

Corrado bowed slightly at the waist, and with a pair of bodyguards and Paul Campanelli, made his way towards the back door. There, they got into one of three cars, afterwards all of which accelerated slowly out of the alley, making the turn onto the small street and heading in the direction of Little Italy and family turf. In the front of the building, a pair of gentlemen lingered, waiting to watch the storm break. They both had clean records, and were unarmed, leaving very little the authorities could touch them for. The bespectacled man was nowhere to be found.

Abe Minsky stood up. "I thank you for the offer. Yes, we should all be going home."
Abe left, Saul and Sheinfeld in tow. "Saul, Mort, I want you to find out how this happened. I don't care how hard you have to lean on people, find out. This was too close a call."
"Sure, pop." said Saul
"I'll get on it. I have a contact in the PD," said Sheinfeld.

Octavian and his men looked at the gentlemen clearing out, "If there will be no takers we will leave now."

They made their way back through the stairs, doors, winding passages, and alleys to their cars. The small party entered one and the congression sped off towards the East Slums.

The two cars turned to the street in front of the hotel, seeing the cops standing behind their road block. They cruised next to them, and O'Curran shouted from the window.

"Men, have you stopped any mobsters? Quick!"

Two uniformed policemen quickly looked at eachother.

"NO SIR! They're all still in the building."

came the reply.

"Here, take few of these!"

one of the Steamrollers barked, throwing some shotguns and submachineguns out of the window to the surprised cops standing in the street.

There were two possibilities now. The mobsters were either in the building, like that man had said, or they had left/were leaving through the backdoor. This conversation hadn't taken longer than a minute, and the roadblock had been there only for about five, but O'Curran was damn afraid it was already too late.

"Go in through the front door and let no one get out of that building, you hear me? No one!"

Regular cops nodded and started to run towards the building, leaving only few men guard the cars. O'Curran's cars were already moving, to the back of the building. They turned around the corner, only to see and empty alley in front of them.

"Around the block! They have their cars there! FUCK!"

His driver, and the driver in the other Sedan slammed their foot pedals down, throwing the vehicles from the alley back to the street. Brakes screeching they turned around the corner. They saw couple of big armoured cars starting their speeding away from the place.

"GODDAMMIT! Pat, Michael, out of the car! Don't let any more mobsters get into any of these cars in here before I come back!"

Two men from his car jumped out as ordered, and the Sedans were on their way before the doors got closed, following the mobster vehicles. Cars were both black, without any police insignia (the men in them were in civilian clothes, also) but they had a detachable sirens in them. O'Curran reached out of the open window and slammed them on the roof. He grabbed a megaphone and bawled;

"STOP RIGHT THERE!"

even though he didn't really think he would be obeyed. He couldn't of course know who there were sitting in those cars, but he trusted his "nose" as they say. In the back of his mind, the fear of chasing wrong cars while his boys were slaughtered behind the hotel made him to shiver, but at this point it was already too late to change the plan.

OOC: As I was the last to leave I’m going to suppose those cops are on my tail.

IC: “Cops have just pulled up, circling around area. The mob bosses left in there are well…screwed.”

Octavian sighed as he looked away from the back window.

“Well, we made it out just in time. Although I do regret we waited so long for the other bosses.”

“Umm…I don’t think we’re done just yet. That’s cops.”

“Oh crap, well we’ve all got clean records. Let’s just put these guns in the hidden locking trunk, no way they’ll find ‘em.”

The lead car with Octavian in his men surreptitiously turned the corner as the other two larger cars slowed down to a stop on each side of the road, making the passage of a car in-between next to impossible. The two drivers turned off the ignitions and got their licenses and registrations ready.

Octavian smiled as his car pulled away, the cops almost assuredly trapped behind, most likely ignorant to this cars existence. And when he thought of the fact that all men left behind had clean records, according to Juliaii rule, he smiles ever deeper.

Joao da Costa burst into the meeting room when he was the police cars and commotion coming from the street below. He was panting as he was unaccustomed to such excitement. He made his way past the exiting mob bosses to Manuel Silveira. “Manuel,” he exclaimed frantically, barely able to make a full sentence. “The Police! They’re out there! We’ve got to get out now!”

Manuel Silveira was calm and collected and, though his eyes expressed he knew the gravity of the situation, he rose to his feet and put his brother-in-law at ease. “I know Joao. The men from the Juliaiis came here to warn us of that. I only wonder if they were the ones who tipped the authorities off in the first place. Or perhaps the man wearing glasses who seemed to be on familiar terms with Antolini.” Manuel was harshly judgemental of others and distrustful of anyone not on his payroll or who he didn’t know very well. In any case the bespectacled man seemed to vanish into thin air just as the confusion set in. “Let’s get home. We can go through the back alleys to the car and get back to the other side of the river.”

The tow men walked out of the meeting room and made their way down the hall to a staircase that would lead downstairs to the back alley. The noise of barking police officers and people yelling and cursing in several different languages coming from the ground floor could be heard loudly and made Joao and Manuel hasten their step.

“We can’t go out the front door! It’s crawling with cops!” Joao’s panicked eyes looked as if they were about to jump out of his head.

“We’re not going out the front. Our man should be waiting in the back for us.”

They walked hurriedly to the back of the hotel, the noise getting ever more uncomfortably close. As they opened the door they saw two large policemen jump out of a moving car before it sped away on a chase.

“We’re cornered.” Joao whispered with a strained voice trying not to call attention to himself and his employer.

“Perhaps.” Manuel conceded. But then he saw one of his soldiers hiding from the two policemen’s view behind a dumpster. He motioned to him to come out and call the officers’ attention so he and Joao could make their escape. Reluctantly at first but then with loyal resolve, the young man leapt from his hiding place yelling:

“Hey, Flatfeet! Come and get me!” and he ran off in the opposite direction in hopes that they would follow.

Patrick turned on his heels towards the shouter, and saw a man jumping up behind a dumpster, running down the street. Mike glanced quickly at the man, turning back to the mobsters in front of him and raising his shotgun.

"No fast motions, fellows. Stay there."

Behind him, Pat raised his tommygun and aimed to the back of the running man.

"Police! Stop or I'll fire!"


OOC: Those normal cops coming through the front door should propably be played by Independent Hitmen since they're not technically under my command, neither in IC or OOC.

The runner ducked into an alley as soon as he heard the warning in the hopes that both cops would give chase but his heart sank once he heard the other police officer begin to speak to his employers.

In the doorway, Joao cursed under his breath for not having closed the door as soon as he sighted the two lawmen.

“Don’t fret, Joao. Remember, we’re respectable patrons here enjoying the hotel’s hospitality and we were startled by the commotion. We simply wanted to get out of harm’s way.” Manuel was in complete control of the situation. There was nothing to fear of going to the police station. They hadn’t been in jail since they were young delinquents and were the proprietors of a well-frequented restaurant. He had quite a deal of lawyers in his pocket and a great many worked for the District Attorney’s office. They would both be out in time for dinner. “No need to worry, officer. We won’t resist.”

Octavian looked around as he got out of the parked vehicle. No pursuers. He casually walked up to a bleak white door and knocked. The door slowly opened as a young boy glared out.

"Oh hey, what'cha want?"

"Tell Marcus we'll be taking our time getting back home, don't want the cops to follow us."

"Got it."

As Octavian walked back into the car and noislessly sped off the boy shut the door and moved towards a window. He climbed out and made his way through the narrow streets towards another house where he delivered the same message to a second boy.

"Got it. Marcus shall know soon."

The three men looked at the police officers standing in front of them, giving no outward signal of what was going through their heads. Mort Sheinfeld stepped forward.

"What may we do for you officers?" he asked calmly. "I'm Morton Sheinfeld, Mr. Minsky's attorney. Is there some problem?" he handed his business card to the nearest cop. Abe stood there calmly, while Saul looked back and forth between Moleman and the cops.

Paul Campanelli stepped out of the car as it pulled up behind a small town home in Little Italy, a building not in family turf, but one paid for out of Campanelli’s own pocket as an emergency safehouse. He walked up to the back door and, taking a key from his pocket, unlocked it and entered the dim front room. He flipped on a switch, bathing a rather plain room in light. Spying the telephone on a small desk he walked over, picked up the receiver, and dialed a number.

“Hey Mike. We had a problem. Somehow the boys in blue got a tipoff. They swarmed the place in less than twenty minutes.”

The clear baritone of Michael Donato came over the wire.

“Jesus, Pauly. What’s the damage.”

“None that I know of yet. We got out of there fast, along with what looked like most of the other dons. Left a few of our boys back in the lobby. They’ll get themselves roughed up a bit, but they’re clean. Send a car to pick ‘em up in half an hour.”

“How’s the don?”

“Should be pulling in any minute.”

“Yeah, I hear him. I’ll start looking into this business.”

“Yeah, do that. I’m gonna head home for a bit, look into some stuff, see what I can do to smooth things over. Oh, and check on Santino. He’s probably home. Had the day off today, but make sure he’s informed about what happened.”

“Yeah, I’ll get on that, Paul. And listen, take care of yourself.”

“Alright, you too Mike.”

Paul hung up the phone, and quickly dialed another number. He spoke softly and rapidly in Italian, nodded several times, and put the receiver back on the hook.

OOC: You had three car loads of men in that meeting, Borman :o ...? That's what I call bodyguarding! And, heh, I thought actually to be after those armoured cars that were mentioned in Cenanan's post. But it's only fair to make O'Currans "sixth sense" to be less than perfect, so np with that.


Two big, armoured cars slowed down and stopped in front of the police vehicles.
As O'Curran stepped out to the street, tommygun ready, he could swear something was wrong. During the seconds it took to reach those mobmobiles he tried desperately figure out what could it be, but without results.

He knocked the window of other of these two automobiles and when it opened (OOC: I'm assuming it does open, correct me if it doesn't) said with a deep, calm voice;

"Step out of the vehicle, hands raised. All of you in there."

Two of his men stood behind him, while the rest three went to say the same to the other car.

The police entering the hotel began to round up as many people as they could, herding them outside as they cleared each room at a time. Many of them carried their sidearms whilst others had shotguns and a couple of Tommy guns. They didn't expect trouble, but that didn't mean that they were taking any chances.

The slow and methodical approach would probably let a few people slip out, but the last thing they wanted was the body of a police officer from this unplanned raid.

Outside all those being forced out were lined up against a wall with three officers covering them whilst some more pushed a few bystanders back. The roadblock had been left unattended as they sought to catch at least one boss.

Many were aware that they had very little evidence on any of the men, in actual fact this would probably come back to haunt the Chief because he would be inconvieniancing several powerful people who had friends in the press and the DA's office. In reality this was just to ruffle some feathers whilst also pleasing the more hardliners in the police department about the lack of action in recent times.


After five minutes the building was basically empty. Some officers finished the search whilst the majority made their way outside to conduct a brief search of the assembled people. Those who worked for the hotel would be let go, whilst those "guests" would be detained longer to allow O'Curran to conduct brief interviews on the sidwalks to assess who needed to visit the police headquarters.


(OOC: Im ok with O'Curran running this operation with the manpower as Foster technically put him in charge of that OP. Foster will visit it soon/pick up the pieces at the police station of the various lawyers/attorneys)

Mike lowered his weapon, not too much though, and smiled to the men in front of him.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but we have reasons to suspect there are some dangerous criminals in this hotel. You will have to wait here until my chief arrives. Until that happens noone's going to leave the building, unfortunately."

Pat, who had run few meters after the escaper walked back from the alley, constantly glancing behind his back.

"I lost that fellow. Damn fast runner. Disappeared to the alley. Too easy to ambush there, I decid' not to follow. He wasn't technically in the hotel at any point though, so boss shouldn't have anything to complain though..."

Mike nodded, even though he didn't look too happy for the news.

"I still hope he does better than we did... It's not like thereare going to be opportunities like this in a looong time after this day."

Manuel smiled back while Joao began to calm down and started to breathe normally.

“We understand completely, officer. We’ll wait right here till this is resolved. I only hope it won’t take too long. I’m a busy man after all.”

He watched the other man come back from the alley alone. This pleased him since at least his man got away. It would have been more difficult for him to endure an interrogation in the hands of certain reputed officers of the law.

OOC: Never know, always have men.

The first driver slowly opened the door of the car and stepped out, hands in the air. His face remained unfazed as inside he smiled, there was nothing the cops had on them, no guns or records; he’d be home soon.

“May I ask what the problem is sir?”

A heavyset man stepped out of the second car. His hands worked near his side to shut the door and upon looking at the cops memory dawned on his face. He put his hands up about level with his face and shifted an annoyed look onto his face.

OOC- Everyone, my computer had a virus, and the RP progressed a good amount, so I think I'm going to drop out. I liked this RP however briefly I was in it, though.

OOC- Everyone, my computer had a virus, and the RP progressed a good amount, so I think I'm going to drop out. I liked this RP however briefly I was in it, though.

OOC: Read first post. After than Antolini called a meeting of the dons. Dons started showing up to discuss issue. Cops came and broke it up. A bunch of dons fled before they barged in. Cops are right now working on gethering up whoever was left inside.

BAM! You're caught up.

bump

Octavian was jostled slightly up and down as his car made its way across the bridge to the east side of Squahosee. As they came to the end the fog lifted to reveal the light blue of a police blockade.

“What the fuck is this. There is no way they followed us.”

But as they got closer and the fog dissipated they were able to make out “Toll” painted over the SPD letters. And when only a couple kids with bats showed up rather than police cars the men let out a breath of relief.

The car slowed down in front of the old rickety blockade and Octavian got out.

“And what’s the problem gentlemen?”

“This here be our bridge, see? You’se wantsta get across, you’se gotsa pay the toll.”

Before Octavian barked out a quick rebuttal his mind wandered over the conversation about expanding Juliaii territory southward. His mind reformulated his response almost instantly.

“I have a proposition for you. I work for very powerful men up north, and this piece of land is very nice. Does your little gang here run it?”

“I uh…hmm…lemme get the boss.”

The boy seemed to have grown weaker upon Octavian speaking to him as more of an equal and he hurried off to the side and into some bushes. Gruff yelling and a squeaky reply ended with the loud sound of a smack. Suddenly a much taller and more buff boy, possibly around 17, came out from the bush with a baseball bat.

“You fucking with my boys!?”

He brought the baseball bat down upon Octavian’s let side when he got in range, but was confused when he couldn’t draw it back up. Then he realized Octavian was holding it in his left hands, muscles bulging throughout his arm.

“Now you can either let go, listen to me, and do as I say; or I could rip this out of your hands, break your kneecaps, and speak with your second in command. Either way I’m going to get what I want. The only question is whether you will lead this small gang allying with us.”

“Sorry. Let’s talk.”

The boy slackened, then released his grip on the bat. He submissively took a seat on the ground after Octavian gestured downward.

“As I was saying to your employee, I represent powerful men in the north. We’re looking to expand and take this territory just south of ours. Do you control say, this bridge and a little more east to part of midtown.”

“We got right on the edge of midtown, this other rival gang has machetes and spears to our wooden bats and brass knuckles.”

“Well I believe we can help you garner that territory. However, after we do; we’ll take control of all of your territory. Understandably you will not want to lose everything for nothing, and therefore I’m prepared to offer you, your two closest associates, and whoever proves themselves capable a limited membership within our organization. Upon turning 18 and passing a qualification test, we will grant those who would like full membership.”

The boy did a bit of a coughing laugh and Octavian’s eyes instantly glowed anger.

“Why do you laugh?”

“Oh no, very sorry. It’s just that the boy you first ran into was on a competence test himself, hence why he couldn’t handle the situation. But so basically we get to get more territory with your help, then we lose it all to you; but you let me, two friends, and whoever else is capable become like junior members, right?”

“First of all, take a breath while you speak. You don’t need to cram everything into one sentence. Secondly, yes.”

“Fuck that.”

Octavian drew in a deep breath as obvious depression settled on his face.

“That’s a shame, the only other was is…well-” as he spoke he drew his hands to his thighs, his left arm knocking open his jacket and revealing the holstered handgun, “not too peaceful between our two groups.”

“Oh shit, you a real crime thing, you ain’t no crazy old man. This is wo-, I mean, uh…sorry. How would you help us capture eastern territory?”

“Well you could stack handguns and Molotov cocktails up against their machetes and spears, whoever the fuck still uses spears.”

“Then I get to part join you guys, and then if I pass test, I can fully join if I’m 18.”

“Correct.”

“Sweet, I’m already 18; all I need is to get you land. You have yourself a deal sir.”

“Excellent.” The younger gentleman stood up and they shook hands.

“By the way, I don’t think I caught your name.”

“It’s Gaius Rommel.”

“Ah, I’m Octavian. We’ll send down some guns and a few men to teach you how to use them in a couple days. They might accompany you into battle.”

Gaius seemed to float away as exuberance overwhelmed him and he ordered the barricade cleared away. Octavian climbed back into the car and quickly blurted out “Getting this territory from them” as the driver accelerated away. On the short drive Octavian divulged some small details to his men, but quickly descended from the car when they arrived.

Alexias Augustus met him at the door and Octavian announced the good news. The two quickly moved throughout the building to Marcus’ office in the back and closed the door as Octavian began to tell the two the details of the whole route back, starting with the flight form the police.

The Florentine Hotel was a small, nondescript red brick building in the heart of Little Italy. Had there been a map outlining the exact boundaries of the various family territories, it would have been directly on the southern border of the Antolini Family claims. On an average, the hotel did a reasonable business, its middle-aged Italian proprietor catering mostly to out-of-towners. However, the profits had been sinking in recent months.

Today, however, the innkeeper hoped to change that. On the top floor, the fourth, Mr. Francis Colido was engaged in deep conversation with one Santino Salvi. They spoke Italian, their voices floating comfortably about the room in the noonday sun.

“Mr. Antolini has made very clear to me the terms which I am to offer you. This business will not be your own, and the profits will flow to the Antolini family, however, we will pay a share to you as rent. This should offset a bit the protection costs you currently pay in exchange for the defense of your hotel, however, additional fees will now have to be charged due to the nature of the business.”

The middle aged man eyed the sharply dressed Italian with scrutiny, his brow furrowed and his lip pursed.

“It’s a hard bargain, Mr. Salvi.”

“The benefits to you will be immense. Brothels are in high demand, like it or not, and as businessmen, it is our duty to cater to the needs of the public.”

The phone began to ring. Colido walked over and answered it. He turned back to Salvi.

“It’s for you.”

Salvi walked over and took the receiver.

“Santino, it’s Paul. The meeting’s been called off. Cops crashed the party.”

“Goddamn. Anyone get hauled in?”

“Not that we know of. The Don and the rest of our boys got out before anything happened. Juliaii showed up with a tip.”

“Hmm. Juliaii, eh?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, I’m looking into it. Paul wanted me to give you a call and tell you what happened, though.”

“Thanks for it.”

“How’s the deal coming.”

Salvi turned back. The innkeeper had excused himself from the room.

“He’ll give us what we want. If he doesn’t-“

Salvi made a whistling noise.

Paul chuckled dryly.

Alright. Listen, get back to the office after you’re done. Don and us are gonna run through some things.”

“Sure thing. Take care of yourself. Paul.”

Santino hung up the phone. The innkeeper reentered the room. He walked over and extended a hand.

“Deal.”

Santino grinned and shook it.

“Smart move, Frank.”

The Narducci cars proceeded back to the docks, taking care to not cross over into any rival gangs territory along the way.

Luck seemed to be with them, no police were encountered along the way. The cars quickly pulled inside the warehouse and a pair of soldiers pushed the sliding doors closed behind them.

Pietro was the first to disembark from his car, followed soon after by Richard. They both walked over to the Don's car and helped him out.

"Sir, We are not sure what happened back there. Its possable that the cops somehow heard about the meeting but its more likely that somebody tipped them off." Pietro started up the stairs to the office followed by the other men.

Antonio reached out and stopped him
"Pietro, it would have been one of the families that was not in attendence. Nobody would put their own Don at risk over something like this. Not to mention that we are no closer to finding out who hit our men then we were at the start of this meeting."
He looked over at Richard
"Go get some men out on the street, I want watchers all through our area. Tell them to keep an eye out for the cops especially, I dont want anymore surprises today"
Tony started up the stairs, while climing he grumbled
"And somebody bring me a cigar and coffee. I need to think for a while."

Richard headed out to assign watchers to the streets.

Pietro followed the Don up the stairs.
"Sir, Do you think we should lockdown the area or continue business as usual?"

Antonio stopped and looked back down the stairs at him.
"Continue as usual, We dont want people to think that anything is wrong around here, it might hurt our reputation. However, Take extra care with our... less then legal packages. I dont want anymore of them being hit or found by the cops"
He paused..
"And Pietro, tell Richard that I want luigi found. Preferably alive." With that he opened the door and stepped into his office.

Pietro looked around the warehouse and spotted one of the messenger boys playing cards with a friend. He walked over to them.
"You"
He barked pointing at the younger of the two.
"Go get the Don his coffee. Take it to him with his regular box of cigars and this time, dont forget the Grappa."
The kid ran off towards the small kitchen. Pietro then turned to the other boy and squatted down to be closer to his eye level
"I want you to go find Richard, tell him that the Don wants him to find Luigi no matter what, He can hire an independent if he deems it nessicary, Do it quick" The other kid ran off towards the house where the soldiers tended to congrigate.

It didn't take long for Richard to be found and updated on what the don wanted. He shoo'd the kid away with a wave of his hand and a nickel.

Turning back to the soldiers around him Richard cleared his throat.
"You all heard that, The Don wants Luigi found, Get some men out there asking around his lot to see if anybody spotted anything. Be persuasive. I've heard there is a new independent operator around town, See if you can arrange a meeting with them. The family resturant will serve well enough as a meeting location. The rest of you, spread out through the neighborhood, I want our holdings protected and watched. Other then that buisness is to look as normal as possable."
With that he took his seat at his desk and rummaged around his drawers for his bottle of vodka.

Inside

The Officer took one look at the business card and signalled for the other officers to detain the men there whilst he went and searched for O’Curran. What to do with that man was beyond his pay grade, if it was up to him then they would arrest him along with everyone else.


Outside

The situation here seemed to be very familiar to the unorganised chaos that seemed to happen after natural disasters. Police were herdinga people around, trying to sift those they wanted from those they didn’t whilst all the time the crowds grew.

Foster arrived along with another dozen officers from the police headquarters when the request for more men was received from the scene. These men sought to create a full cordon to prevent anymore people from leaking out or reporters from getting in. The media were already becoming a pain in law enforcement, their constant squeezing for information in some cases jeopardising possible cases, whilst in most just being a general nuisance.

The officer with the business card approached Foster when he saw O’Curran diverted by several men in a vehicle.

“Chief, a gentleman in the hotel gave us this card. Said he represented Mr Minsky, what you want us to do?”

“Mr Minsky…….Haul this guy in for questioning. I’ve annoyed the DA enough today so one more shouldn’t hurt.”

“Sure thing Chief. He goes with the rest.”

They shared a quick smile. There were two things they loathed above all others, reporters and flash attorneys. One down one to go.

O'Curran stepped out of the car in front of the hotel they had just returned to. They had indeed arrested the whole bunch, two carloads of mobsters, and taken their armoured cars too, for further investigations. Noticing Foster standing nearby he took few quick steps to him, and touched the brim of his hat with his right hand.

"We didn't get Don Narducci. These are Juliaii, apparently... but just ordinary gunmen. Their Don managed to escape too."

He kept a short pause, and looked Foster straight in the eyes..

"I kinda fucked this up, sir. Sorry for the failure. It wont happen again."

Glancing towards the Juliaii that were beeing loaded into other police cars by the uniformed, "normal" officers, spit and lit a cigarette.

...Even though the roadblock acted as a good warning for them. We lost the element of surprise, which is essential in these operations."

"Don't beat yourself up about it. We got a few people, not to mention an attorney" a grin spread across his face.

"Besides even if we had got them, we have nothing to pin on any of the bosses.....nothing concrete anyway."

The two men were making their way to the police cars, casting a glance at their old cars which had been confiscated. The one who had come out of his car with silence leaned down and got in with silence. However the one who had inquired as to the problem had still gotten no answer and stopped an turned around.

"Excuse me sir, you have yet to answer my question. Why exactly are we being arrested? We have done nothing wrong."

Abe and Mort went without apparent concern, a flicker of annoyance crossed Saul's face, but it was directed at Moleman, not the cops.

"I'm sure I'll be glad to help in any way possible officer." said Sheinfeld.

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