by Dave Daren
“What do we do?” she whispered. “You know what they’re talking about in there.”
“No, I don’t,” I insisted. “They could be talking about tea and crumpets for all I know.”
“Come on, Hunter!” Liz hissed. “They’re talking about whacking that Vlado guy. You aren’t stupid.”
“I’m just saying, as Anthony’s attorneys, we can’t assume he’s planning anything illegal in there,” I insisted as we stepped off the staircase and into the living room. “We have to look out for his best interests.”
“In his best interest, we should march right back in there and tell Sal to stop pushing him to do something Anthony would regret,” she argued.
Liz made a good point. We’d done nothing but look out for Anthony since he’d hired me, and then her, onto his legal team, but it was a whole other ball game when his father was in the picture. I didn’t want to divide the father and son, yet I knew we couldn’t sit back and let our client make a huge mistake.
“I know,” I sighed. “I don’t want Anthony to feel like he has to do that. Even if he hasn’t become a made man or whatever, he still has respect from the family. Anyone can see that.”
“Maybe he’s worried the respect will run out once Sal’s out of the picture,” she suggested. “Then he won’t be Sal’s boy anymore. He’ll just be another guy who jumped to the top of the ladder without any work, and some other guy might want to try his hand.”
Right then, I realized I had no idea how the mob truly worked.
“Are you saying someone besides Sal’s son could take over the Febbo family?” I asked in surprise.
“Haven’t you ever watched a documentary?” Liz smirked and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, the families aren’t just handed down to the next generation anymore. I mean, they obviously prefer to keep it in the family like Sal took over after his father, but the main goal is to protect business and teach a man to run the show. If Sal didn’t have any boys, he’d have to find another capo who could take the reins.”
“What about Annie?” I frowned.
“No way.” Liz shook her head. “Women don’t run the families. Most of them are lucky to be involved other than as a doting housewife.”
My mind drifted to Serafina Davide and her upcoming role in the Febbo family. Even though she was brilliant, hardworking, and graduating from college soon, she would have no chance at ever running the Febbo family business. Then I thought about all the times I’d wondered what Gulia knew about her husband and son’s work. It all made sense now.
“That explains why Gulia is always avoiding the business topics,” I murmured. “But either way, we do have a problem.”
“So, now you want to admit what they’re talking about?” Liz arched an eyebrow and smirked.
“No,” I said with pursed lips. “But if they do happen to be discussing an illegal solution, we need to come up with a legal option for them instead.”
“How do we legally get Galic to give up what he knows about the Serbian operation?” Liz gnawed on her bottom lip.
We stood in silence for a few minutes as we pondered what to do next. We obviously couldn’t let our client set up a murder, but if he wanted to take over the family business, we couldn’t stop him, either. There had to be a happy medium that wouldn’t bring all hell down on us.
“Wait.” I held up my finger. “What if we use the law?”
“I don’t follow,” Liz said and made a face.
“We use the feds to our advantage,” I said as my excitement grew. “Come on!”
I raced back upstairs and knocked softly on the office door.
“Not now!” Sal yelled.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Febbo,” I said loudly. “I just wanted to offer a suggestion to the problem.”
There was a brief pause, and I looked at Liz who watched me as though she thought I was completely insane. Maybe I was, but I had to try to help Anthony, and this was the only way I could think of.
“Come in,” Anthony finally said.
I eased the door open and walked inside. Anthony leaned over his father’s desk, while Sal sat in the leather chair with his hands clenched around the armrests. The tension was thick, but I knew I had to say what I’d come to say. The Febbos stared at me as I carefully sat in the chair and took a deep breath.
“I don’t want to know what you’ve already discussed,” I began. “I have a different approach to solving the Vlado and Serbian problem.”
“Explain.” Sal’s face was set in an expression I couldn’t quite read.
“What if we use the presence of the feds to our advantage?” I blurted out the rest before they could argue. “If we find something they could pick him up for, they’ll be forced to investigate the entire company. Hell, they might have to look into the whole Serbian operation, which would definitely affect and weaken their business. Then the Serbs would be focused on saving their own business instead of on you, and maybe that would take some of the heat off your guys.”
The silence was deafening, and Sal looked like he would leap across the desk to take me out if he could.
“So, we expose Vlado and get the feds on him instead of us?” Anthony clarified. “That’s not bad, Hunter.”
Sal looked at him with wide eyes but still didn’t speak.
“If he’s really what we think he is, it shouldn’t be too hard,” I continued. “He would have regular contact with the higher-ups, and I assume that means at least a few face-to-face meetings, right?”
“Usually,” Anthony agreed. “They aren’t dumb enough to meet at some coffee shop, though. It may not be easy to peek in on their conversations.”
“And we know they’ll sweep for bugs even if we find where they’re meeting,” Liz added with a frown.
“True, but we don’t necessarily need to be the ones who listen to their chats,” I said. “We just need to get that intel for the feds to do their thing.”
“Okay,” Anthony mused as he stood up and began to pace the room. “But what are you going to do? Blast him in the newspaper, too?”
“That wasn’t enough to open a full-blown investigation on Chatel,” I pointed out. “It has to be something more solid than that. We have to know everything Vlado does, who he reports to, what decisions he makes.”
“Plus, we have to find out how he uses the company to his advantage,” Liz added. “It’s obvious to us that it’s a shell corp, but it may not be so obvious to the FBI if they haven’t been able to get a warrant for the company records.”
“If we can give them proof that the company is sketchy, they may be able to dig deeper,” I agreed. “If they can do that, they should be able to blow the whole operation wide open.”
“And leave the Serbs running around like chickens with their heads cut off,” Anthony chuckled. “But how do we get that info from Vlado, ah, legally?”
“I don’t think asking him will work.” I smirked. “But surveillance isn’t illegal if you get the right person to do it.”
“Like a PI,” Liz said with a grin. “Then it’s a job, not harassment. Do you have--”
“Don’t worry about who I have,” Anthony cut her off gently.
He was much nicer to her with that warning than he was to me, but I wouldn’t take it personally. He seemed to like my idea, and that was all I needed right now. It would keep him out of the “made man” hypothetical planning and still get what we needed to push the Serbians out of New York and the feds off our case.
“Well, if, hypothetically speaking, you knew someone who was licensed as a private investigator, it would be fairly easy to assign him to Vlado,” Liz said cautiously. “And whatever information he finds, you could use to your advantage.”
“Once he gets the right intel, we can hand it over to the feds,” I continued.
“Like we did with the Red Hook bust,” Anthony murmured. “I’ll set up the surveillance. It won’t be hard, but I’m catching a theme with you, Hunter.”
“Keeping you out of trouble?” I chuckled. “
You hired me for a reason.”
“You’ve done alright so far,” he shot back with a grin.
“I don’t know what you’re so happy about,” Sal muttered before he slammed his palm down on the desk. “You’re agreeing to a plan that makes us all rats!”
His last word echoed around the office as we all stared at him with open mouths. Sal had been silent during the discussion, and I’d assumed it was because he was soaking it all in, but that was apparently not the case. His tan skin had turned red with anger, and he was nearly shaking in his chair as he glared at his son.
“Papa, you can’t look at it like that,” Anthony insisted.
“How else should I look at it?” his father thundered. “You want to spy on this guy and then turn him over to the feds! That’s a rat if I’ve ever heard of one.”
He added a few more Italian words I didn’t think I’d ever need to know before Anthony cut him off.
“The Serbs aren’t family!” he yelled. “Times have changed, and new people are trying to cut into what we have. You didn’t even know about all the Serbs that made their way into the families until Pietro’s, and they all turned on their people! Tell me it’s wrong to want all of them to pay for what they did.”
Images of the blood-soaked bodies strewn about the restaurant danced through my mind, and I shook my head at the memory of the carnage. It had been a terrible scene when the Serbians turned on their Italian bosses, and only a few on both sides of the battle had made it out alive. Anthony was lucky to have avoided the onslaught, thanks to the late Kroger, but the damage between the families was done.
“We deal with those things ourselves,” Sal hissed. “We don’t give the cops anything. It’s always been that way.”
“Some things are different now,” Anthony said as he stood up straight. “But what hasn’t changed is who the families are, and the Serbians aren’t family.”
I stifled a smile as I listened to the younger Febbo use my own reasoning against his father. I’d made the same argument when we set up the Red Hook bust a few months back, and it had worked in our favor to expose the corruption in the NYPD. I just hoped it could work again.
“You better not screw this up, bimbo,” Sal muttered. “I won’t be able to save you from the wreckage if this ship sinks.”
“It won’t,” Anthony replied with confidence. “I’ll set up the PI now.”
Sal grumbled under his breath but didn’t argue anymore. I wondered if he understood Anthony’s logic or if he just accepted that his son had made his decision and would have to deal with the consequences. I leaned more toward the latter.
Either way, I’d succeeded in convincing my client not to take his father’s advice, which was the most important goal. Not only was I not convinced I could get him out of a murder charge, but I didn’t want Anthony to have to live with that experience. I obviously hadn’t killed anyone, but I’d learned quite a bit about the psychology of a murderer during my undergrad years.
There were the sickos who didn’t regret a single second of their actions, but there were also the ones who could hardly stand the sight of themselves in the mirror after what they’d done. I couldn’t imagine taking someone else’s life just to benefit my own, and I felt like Anthony related more to that than he cared to admit. He wasn’t a selfish guy, and maybe Sal wasn’t, either, but Anthony wanted to be more than a spitting image of his father.
After a few minutes, Anthony suggested we return for dessert, and Liz and I happily agreed. Sal decided to stay in the office for a while, most likely to brood about his disappointing heir, and the rest of us skipped downstairs for a round of gelato.
I was surprised to see Cathy, Ella, and their husbands and kids had already left, and I checked my watch to see it was nearly midnight. I hemmed and hawed for a moment but decided to go ahead with the gelato. I’d had plenty of late nights in law school, and Gulia’s gelato was much more enticing than any of the research papers I’d stayed up for back then.
“The new flavors aren’t ready yet, but I don’t know if you’d want to try the grandchildren’s flavor experiments,” Gulia said as she pulled the bowls from her freezer.
“Unless you like pickle or cinnamon flavors in your dessert,” Annie added with a laugh. “Then you might want to come back for them.”
“I think I’m good with the ones you made,” I chuckled.
We returned to the patio and ate some gelato, though I wasn’t quite as serene as I had been after our last gelato session.
Sal’s anger was bothering me. One minute, he wanted Anthony to drop the whole Mafia life, and the next, he was practically shoving the made-man expectations down his throat. And now that I’d come up with a solution that didn’t require anything crazy, he’d still been unhappy. He hadn’t even joined us for gelato. I had no idea what to do to please the grumpy old man.
By one, Liz and I had had our fill, and we loaded up into my car to head back for the city.
“As much as I’d love another sleepover, I need to get to my apartment tonight,” Liz said in a sleepy voice. “You have stuff to do in the morning, and I need to wear something other than these clothes.”
“Fair enough,” I chuckled. “Any big plans for tomorrow?”
“Sleeping in,” she yawned then covered her mouth. “Sorry, I know you have to get up early.”
“It’s alright.” I shrugged and glanced over to see her eyes barely open. “That gelato was worth it.”
“Yes, it was,” Liz agreed as she stifled another yawn. “I definitely shouldn’t have had that last glass of grappa, though.”
“Go to sleep,” I encouraged her. “I’ll wake you up when we get to your apartment.”
She started to argue but closed her mouth and nodded. Then she curled up in the warm seat and closed her eyes. Within seconds, she was fast asleep, and I kept the music at a low volume as I glided down the LIE toward her apartment.
I thought about Anthony’s agreement to hire a PI and move forward with my plan, despite his father’s obvious discomfort. I’d thought I’d feel better once my client agreed with me, but something told me it wouldn’t be as easy as I imagined.
Once we reached Queens, I took the exit for Hillcrest and weaved through the minimal traffic to reach Liz’s apartment. I gently shook her awake as I parked in front, and she jumped and looked around wildly.
“Damn, already here?” she murmured. “Thank you for bringing me.”
“You know I don’t mind,” I chided her. “Do you want me to walk you upstairs?”
“No, I’m okay,” she replied. “The doorman usually walks me to the elevator.”
“Good.” I nodded. “I’ll wait until you’re on it.”
“Night, Hunter,” Liz whispered as she pecked me on the cheek. “Let me know how it goes tomorrow.”
I nodded, and she climbed out of my Mercedes and straight up the stairs to the waiting doorman. As promised, he walked her to the elevator and even pushed the button for her floor before he returned to his post. I started to pull away, but I’d feel better knowing she made it to her apartment before I left.
After a few seconds, a light on the third floor clicked on, and I sighed with relief before I returned to the highway that would carry me back to DUMBO. As I drove, I imagined my small, empty apartment, and frowned. It was only a couple of days until I could move to my new house, but I still didn’t look forward to the apartment right now.
Well, except for maybe my bed.
I chuckled to myself as I pulled into the parking garage and threw the car in park.
Then I realized something was different.
A few of the lights in the garage had burned out, and I decided to mention it to Sulla on my way in, so maintenance could take care of it. But when I looked around my car, I noticed the darkness was mostly around my assigned parking spot. Even the cars that normally filled every spot were conspicuously missing, which was especially odd at this time of night. Normally, all the residents were home by now, but the lot loo
ked like it did after everyone had left for work.
I checked my mirrors for Hank, even though I knew my bodyguard didn’t have access to the garage in his car. He always parked across the street from my building and watched from there.
I put my hand on my hip and felt the comforting, smooth metal of my Smith & Wesson. Even if Hank was further away than I’d like at the moment, I had something to cover my ass. I opened my car door slowly, stepped into the darkness, and felt every hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
Someone was watching me.
I tried to peer into the shadows, but I couldn’t see a damn thing. No eyes watching me, just the unmistakable feeling of someone close by. I gritted my teeth and closed my car door. As I reached into my pocket to lock the doors, the sound of footsteps echoed around the garage.
I whirled around just in time to feel the weight of a large person slam into me and pin me against my car. My instincts kicked in, and I threw a solid right hook into the stranger’s temple.
My ability to fight back seemed to take him by surprise, and his head snapped to the side after my fist connected with his head. Then I slung my elbow into the top of his head, and his grip on me lessened just enough for me to squirm down and deliver another shot to his jaw. I heard his teeth snap together before he grunted in frustration and dug his feet into the concrete.
The pressure of his weight on my chest made it harder and harder to breathe, but I wouldn’t let some random guy in my soon-to-be-old parking garage take me out that easily. I clenched my fists and punched as hard as I could into the stranger’s chest.
He took the blow and dealt his own to my gut. I doubled over from the shot but still had enough in me to throw another punch with my left fist. I felt my knuckles connect with my attacker’s ribs, and he shoved his forearm under my chin to push me harder into the cool metal of my car.
I thrashed under the pressure of his arm as he slowly lifted me off my feet, but I took advantage of the new position and jammed my knee into his gut. It was his turn to bend over and catch his breath, and I took the opportunity to slide to one side and reach for my pistol.
