I had broken the rule completely; I had lost everything to gain nothing. Every time I met Silas he reminded me of the man I used to be. Last night’s whisky binge had brought out a lot of nostalgia. Most of those stories I’d tried to forget, but some memories have a way of haunting you, making you look over your shoulder every now and then, just making their presence felt. It gives you a bad case of nerves, all that bending.
As I left Silas’ fortress the next morning, I felt the chill of November colder than last night. In the daytime Dogtown turned alive. People who survived another night got on with their lives. Those who didn’t; made next morning’s headlines. Being a survivor of another night in Dogtown I decided to pick up some coffee to help me get through the chill. I stopped by the newsstand to take a look at the new death toll of the war between the Russians and Italians. Not much to read these days.
“The sports section seems to be losing its sheen these days.” I turned around so quick I almost spilled my precious coffee. “Maybe, they should hand the football team guns instead of shoulder pads.”
The voice belonged to Tony Piatti. That’s not a welcome face to see first thing in the morning. Tony was the Iron Hand of the Lombardi family, and he did his best to look the part. Every piece of his 6’ 2” frame screamed two things; I’m rich and I’m ruthless. He wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Godfather movies, hell; they should’ve hired him to play the part of Luca Braci, except they would have to explain the scars somewhere in the book.
“Long time no see Vic, word is these days you a retired man, checking out the view from our side, eh?” I took his talking instead of shooting as a good sign, “Don’t blame ya at all Sullivan, you were never too honest to handle a uniform job.”
“Well, I realized quickly that there are advantages to being on the other side of the law, you know what they say, about the grass being greener and all that jazz.”
“Well, I don’t know ‘bout the grass, but the dough sure is greener on this side. Let’s take a walk shall we? Mike wants to talk with you ‘bout something.” Tony’s words were often the last a man heard, depending on your reply to them. But I figured that if the Italians wanted me dead, I’d be lying on the street instead of drinking my coffee. Besides, if Mike was involved in this, then I was probably going to live another day.
Michael Aldrin, a.k.a. Mike, he was the second man of the Family. He was one of those local boys, who worked their way up from the bottom, through an intricate web of bloodshed and intelligence. Mike had started off back when the family was just getting big. He realized quickly that if he wanted to get to the top and stay alive, he would need his brains more than his gun. Word on the street was he never fired his gun in his 17 years with the Family. Tony did the shooting, Mike did the talking. Yet Mike brought about more fear in people’s minds than Tony, the only thing more dangerous than a remorseless murderer, is a calculated killer.
Mike and I went way back. We both grew up in the same neighborhood in
I walked with Tony till Sonny’s bistro, Mike’s daily morning coffee and breakfast joint. If anyone ever needed to find him for anything till noon, this was the place. He kept saying that the first sign he’s dead is going to be his corner seat being empty the next morning.
Mike welcomed me with his trademark happy smile, the man never let anyone know what was going on behind those eyes, he could’ve made millions on the poker circuit; maybe revenge seems better than money. “Vic, my old friend, what would you like for breakfast?”
“Its Sunday, Mike, I’ve had a long night. What’s the greasiest thing this place has that can kick off a hangover?”
“The steak is to die for.” Humor was one of Mike’s plus points. At least he thought so.
“Well then that’s out of my budget, I’ll have a cheeseburger.” The waitress jotted it down and went on her way.
“So, been a long night, huh? How’s Silas’ business doing these days? I heard he got jacked for a few grand the other day, by the Russians.” This was news; Silas would’ve mentioned if the Russians crossed him for some money, he usually made sure the cash was in the same room as the guns.
“Maybe Silas finally started the credit system in gun dealing. He’s always been one for business innovations.”
“Yes, yes, but the thing with running a business is, some innovations tend to fail. Just hope Silas isn’t losing his touch in such a short time. It would be a shame to lose our biggest gun dealer in Dogtown, and a good a friend as well.” Mike had a way of blending sarcasm with each statement. You never knew what he meant by what he said.
“No, I hope not. Wouldn’t want the Lombardi’s to get into a fix with their gunsmith dead. I don’t think there’s anyone else in Dogtown who would dare to sell the Family anything that Silas sells.”
“There are others. But let’s not go there. That’s now why I invited you to Sunday breakfast with me and Tony.” Here comes the bombshell, “You know my boys were keeping an eye on your building, for security, when they swear they saw the strangest thing last night. A taxi pulled up and out stepped the most beautiful woman in this hellhole. They could’ve sworn they had gone mad, coz nothing they were seeing made sense to them. Now, the question that needs to be asked, my old friend, is, what is the Russian’s woman doing at your doorstep in the middle of the night?”
“She came to me with business. Business which I was meaning to talk to you about, in some time.” I realized this would be the best time and best person to ask. Anyone else in the Family would’ve blown my head off rather than answer what I was about to ask. I decided to go slow. “You and I, we go back a long way Mike and you know you can trust me no matter what happens. We’ve grown up together and seen a lot of shit go down in this city. And somehow both of us have survived. So when I tell you its strictly business, you know I mean it.”
“Yea, I guess that’s true. But I aint worried for you about my boys Vic, if the Russian found out, you know he wouldn’t like it. He’s not one to take such things lightly. Mylene is not someone who walks into a guy’s house in the middle of the night, no matter what the business is.” Mike’s poker face kept me guessing which part was the one covered in sarcasm.
“This was business which Vadim could never know about.” I sensed I should ask and get it done with, “Do the Italians have hit out with Mylene’s name on it?”
“You know the deal Vic, I can’t tell you about the working of the Family. You decided to stay neutral when everyone else chose their sides. I respect you for that, and I don’t blame you either. But you know as well as anyone that I can’t discuss my business with someone outside the Family.”
“I know that, but someone’s got a hit out for Mylene, and I’m being paid to find out who. This is business. I’m asking from a friend to a friend, have you heard anything about a price on Mylene’s head?” I didn’t expect a reply from him.
“As a friend, all I can say is that I heard nothing about the Family calling a hit on Mylene, but what I have heard is there is a price on Mylene’s head, a big one. No one knows who’s put the card out.” Mike had a way of letting people know when the conversation was over. This was it.
He got up to leave, but I had to ask him one more favor, “ Put a word in with Leon that I want to meet him about something,” He was one of the few people who could set me up for a meeting with the Italian boss.
“I’ll see what I can do. And Vic, I called you here to warn you, as a friend; stay away from that woman, she’s no good for any man. Not even Vadim.”
Funny how people keep telling me that these days.
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