Buffalo Soldiers (An Upstate New York Mafia Tale Book 2)

by Nicholas Denmon

  Jimmy looked down and then slapped Ivan on the arm. “Can I get you a drink? After all, this is in your honor.”

  “Shit Jimmy, I should be getting you a drink. Besides I have a scotch.” Ivan held it up so Jimmy could see.

  “I think I heard you say you’re drinking scotch?” he asked. Then he pushed over to the bar before Ivan could protest.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen,” The Pope said, dismissing himself before melting into the crowd.

  Tom sat down and Ivan took up a seat next to him.

  They sat there in silence for a brief moment, Tom just grimacing like he usually did. That was alright with Ivan though. It might have been his party but he certainly didn’t feel like a guest of honor. He must have been grimacing too because Tom looked over at him and let the tips of his lips curl upward just a fraction before clearing his throat a bit and shifting in his seat to face him.

  “Went to The Hill, did ya?” Tom looked around the room when he asked the question. That was one thing Ivan always appreciated and hated about Tom Coughlin. He was always looking over his shoulder. The only problem was that he looked over yours while he did it.

  When he gets his it will be from some asshole right in front of him.

  “Yeah, you know where I fucking went Tom.” Ivan cracked his neck. Tom Coughlin was a man that responded to strength. If you showed weakness he would roll over you like a semi-truck.

  “Well if I did eleven years in the can I think I might be happy I was out. That chip you’re carrying ain’t gonna make you many friends.” Tom let his eyes catch Ivan for a second before they flicked up and over, searching the crowd for ghosts.

  “The fuck that supposed to mean?” Ivan felt his neck getting warm and when that happened he usually put someone’s head through a couple of cafeteria trays.

  “Nothing Nivsky. But you know this place is all about what have you done for me lately. Might wanna remember that. Everyone is smiles right now, but you get out of line, you won’t even hear the .22 as it enters your skull.”

  Ivan stood up, nearly knocking his drink over. His chair fell back, hitting the floor with a clank. He went to stride forward when a huge hand grabbed him and pushed him back down into his suddenly upright chair.

  “Sit the fuck down.” Jimmy slammed a scotch on the table and stood over Ivan until he was sure he wasn’t getting back up. He slowly sat down with a “what the fuck” look etched across his brow, his eyes darting back and forth between the two men.

  Tom Coughlin leaned forward and said, “It wasn’t a fucking threat tough guy. It’s a warning. Your name is Nivsky as much as mine’s Coughlin, you get me? Jimmy will tell ya, these Italians look after their own. You’re expendable and as long as you know that you’ll be half a step ahead.”

  Ivan felt his adrenaline still coursing through him like a fuel injection of testosterone but his mind was clear too and he knew Tom was right.

  “There are a lot of new faces around.” He took a swig of his scotch, hoping to calm his nerves. It used to be that he had to smash somebody if he got pumped up like this, but eleven years surviving in the pen with the Black gangs, Mexican thugs, the Skinheads, and the other shitheads taught you to think before you acted.

  “Well you’re almost right there.” Tom stood up abruptly. “I’m gonna take a piss. Try and not kick anyone’s ass before I get back.” He shuffled off towards the men’s room where Ivan noted The Pope pulling him aside for a quick conversation.

  Jimmy interrupted his thoughts. “Tom has always been a little heated.”

  “Heated at what?”

  Jimmy laughed. “About being born Irish.”

  Ivan gave a chuckle even though he was fully aware that the same joke could have been used on him if Jimmy had chosen to switch Irish with Russian.

  “What’s he mean I’m almost right? I don’t recognize anyone here.” Ivan cast another look across the crowd hoping to catch a familiar face. He hoped to see one in particular.

  That bastard owes me.

  Jimmy lowered his voice. “Ain’t it obvious Ivan? Not a lot of new faces, just not a lot of the old ones. Word is the big man is bringing in a dozen Dagos from the old country to stock our ranks. War is shit for recruiting.”

  Tom came back at about that moment. He caught the tail end of Jimmy’s whisper and his face broke into sideways scowl. “Jimmy why don’t you just tell the Ruskie everything. Fuck.”

  Jimmy leaned over the table even further and Ivan thought he might flip it. “How many years you do? You got eleven beat Tom? Quit stuffing your brains with Shamrocks. I’m not giving him codes to the nuclear arsenal.” He turned to Ivan and shrugged. “He’s the only one I let talk to me like that. Maybe not for long though.” He gave Tom a sidelong glance and both he and Ivan laughed when they saw the worry flash over Tom’s amber-Irish brow.

  Ivan slammed down the rest of his scotch and stood up. “With your leave, Jimmy.”

  “What? Leaving your own party already?” Jimmy stood up and grabbed Ivan’s hand. “Welcome back.”

  Ivan felt his knuckles nearly crack with the man’s grip but met his squeeze. “Thanks Jimmy. Oh and Tom, fuck you too.” He flashed the blustered Irishman a grin and headed towards the back exit of Chef’s.

  He stopped by the Don and said a quick goodbye who gave his shoulder a pat and then continued telling a couple of youngsters a story that they thought was much funnier than it really was. The Pope met him halfway as he made his way out of the place. He patted him on the back and reminded him that he had an apartment set up for him. Ivan thanked him and pushed open the door that led to the alley beyond when The Pope called out to him.

  “Oh I almost forgot. Make sure you come by Rumors tomorrow. We have some business to discuss with you.” The Pope grabbed at his handkerchief and caught a cough as he turned away. Ivan couldn’t help but grimace at the sound it made before he nodded his head and walked outside.

  Eddie was waiting for him, door open.

  “I guess we have a deal?” Ivan said as he climbed into the back of the Lincoln.

  “Would seem so, sir.” Eddie smiled and shut the door behind Ivan.

  Chapter 3

  The Pope watched Ivan go, put his rag into his pocket and shuffled on over to Don Ciancetta who drifted to a small hallway with him.

  “What do you think?” The Don mopped his forehead with a red napkin from one of the tables. He was in rare form earlier, cracking up the rank and file.

  “I think he is with us and so does that suspicious little bastard Tom. I was a little wary at first, too. The timing with the feds and his release, big fucking red flag if I ever saw one. But to be honest, this was his release date, give or take a couple months, from the very beginning.”

  “I agree. I didn’t get a sense that the man was nervous.” Don Ciancetta gave a half-laugh and said, “A little pissed off maybe, but not nervous. I thought he was gonna lay one right on little Tom.”

  The Pope smiled and imagined him knocking the little man across the room. But he knew Tom better than that. “Well, he would have had to knock him out or else he might have a little whirlwind of fighting Irish jumping up and down his spine.”

  The Pope moved in closer to the Don, bringing his lips only a few inches from the man’s ear. “We have another problem to discuss. Let’s go for a walk.”

  The Don’s cheeks tightened. “How ‘bout a drive? Nuncio’s right over there.”

  “Not a drive Leo. A walk. The car isn’t safe. You know that. We won’t go far, just a little stroll. In fact, might be a good idea to have Nuncio walk with us, a few feet behind though.”

  The Don kept the wrinkles in his face but waved Nuncio over from the bar anyway. “Stay behind us Nuncio. We’re going for a walk.”

  Once outside, The Pope couldn’t help but breathe in the crisp autumn air. Trees were turning every shade of blood red, and crimson. They were equal part squash yellow and thirty degrees of brown. The odd maple leaf drifted along the sidewalk in plum purple and the wind
off of Lake Erie cut across the warmth of the sunlight, bringing the temperature a tad below heaven.

  They walked along and The Pope saw the Don grin as he gazed at the blue sky that was swiftly dissolving into a scattershot of colors that mixed and bled with the swirling leaves that carpeted their path. Nuncio walked in step with them about twenty paces back.

  “Sorry Leo, but I don’t aim to give the feds a fucking inch. Good chance they had ears on that party today.”

  “Yea. I know.” The Don fumbled in his coat looking for a cigar. The Pope had seen the routine a thousand times.

  The Pope stopped walking and faced the Don. The big man took his cue and stopped walking too. “Rafael Rontego is gone.”

  Don Ciancetta withdrew his hand minus the cigar. “What the fuck do you mean he’s gone?”

  “I got a phone call from old Salvatore. He’s gone and a bunch of feds raided the room. So now we know for sure. It is the feds.” The Pope could see that Don Ciancetta was agitated. The vein on his head was starting to bulge out in an unhealthy way. “Now before you go nuts, from what I can tell, they missed him. The feds, I mean.”

  “How the fuck are you sure?” The Don leaned back against a cement wall that kept the dirt stable under a house on the corner of the avenue.

  “Salvatore said the feds asked for a surveillance video of the property and were pissed off because they just missed ‘the target’.” The Pope felt a cough coming on and clutched at the rag in his pocket just in case. “There’s more though. Sal didn’t give them everything. Apparently he had a hidden camera on the floor that caught some disturbing shit. Some crew grabbed Rafael out of his hotel room a few hours before the feds got there.”

  The Don just stared at him. For a moment The Pope thought the big guy might lash out at him and strike him. But he didn’t. “Who? Why?” He said it with that poker voice of his that made The Pope instantly leery.

  “I don’t know who or why yet. But I don’t think I need to spell out the implications. In either scenario.” The cough verily leapt from his throat and he almost caught his friend in the crossfire. His eyes teared up again and he caught that same look in Don Ciancetta’s face.

  Pity.

  “No. You don’t need to spell it out. We gotta get Rafael before the feds do.”

  The Pope nodded his head as he straightened his body from the blow the cough had given him in the gut. “The only question is, are we doing it to save him or are we doing it to eliminate loose ends?”

  The Don gave him a look he knew not to question.

  “Agreed. Who do you want on it?”

  Fuck.

  He agreed with him, but it didn’t mean he liked it.

  “Put the Russian on it. He could stand to knock a little rust off.” The Don lit his cigar with a violent puff that clawed its way out of the vice-like grip his teeth put on the end of the cigar. “Besides he knows him best, some would say.”

  “Some would say.” The Pope leaned back against the cement wall next to Don Ciancetta. “It’s pretty isn’t it?”

  “What is?” The big man puffed on the end of his cigar, the sweet aroma filling the air.

  “The calm before the storm.”

  The Don lifted an eyebrow but The Pope paid him no attention. A Blue Jay fluttered past and alighted on the branch of an elm planted into the sidewalk, its roots reaching and spreading under a storm drain. It rested there a moment when a motorcycle nearby picked up speed, revving the engine in a way that made The Pope wish he had a long stick to put in the bike’s spoke. It wouldn’t have mattered though, the motorcycle was half a block away now, and the Blue Jay was winging its way further down the block to a less noisy locale.

  The Pope took a rare phlegm-free breath and pushed off of the ledge. He walked past the Don and back towards Chef’s.

  “Where you going?” The Don yelled after him.

  Without looking back The Pope yelled over his shoulder, “To make some calls.”

  *

  Kira nearly fell, face first, into her biology book. Her arm slipped off the desk as she dozed, sending the momentum of her body downward. She barely caught herself and the print of the book loomed large before her. She straightened up as a boy in the seat behind her snickered. Wiping the sleep from her eyes she shot the youth a glance filled with knives over her shoulder.

  “Shut the fuck up Bobby.” She kept her voice low so her douche-bag science teacher wouldn’t hassle her. She was pretty sure she had seen him glancing inappropriately at her earlier and she was in no mood to be toyed with.

  “I would if you didn’t look so retarded, almost knocking your head through your desk.” He snickered again and Kira felt her spine tingle with the irritation.

  Kira turned fully back around as Mr. Douche-bag took a step towards them and away from the door carrying a piece of chalk as a weapon.

  “You two have a question about the assignment?” He was talking to the both of them but again Kira felt his eyes on her and she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  “No sir.” Bobby said.

  Bobby was a bright-eyed youth. He always took in everything that happened around him and had an annoying habit of voicing his opinion on everything as if anyone cared. Kira thought he might even be handsome if he didn’t wear that shit-eating superiority complex on his face like a badge of honor.

  And if he got a haircut.

  Kira didn’t like it when guys had hair longer than her. She blew her own hair out of her eyes as she tried to refocus on the lesson. It was no good though, she had other things on her mind.

  Besides, who has an actual lesson on the first day of school? Oh yeah, Mr. Douche-bag that’s who.

  Mercifully, the bell rang and Kira jumped up, grabbing her bag and book without putting it away. She rushed out of the room avoiding the throng. The other kids were rushing too, jockeying to be the first ones in line for lunch. Kira had other plans though and picked her way to an outside table as far from the lunchroom as possible. She spied Gina walking towards her down the hall and looked at the floor as she tried to hustle past.

  It was no good.

  “Hey Kira!” The blonde strolled up keeping pace with Kira as she walked away from the crowd.

  “Hey Gina. Aren’t you grabbing lunch?”

  “I brown bagged it today,” she said, bringing up a brown paper bag that had escaped Kira’s attention.

  “Oh. Right.” Kira said without breaking stride.

  “Where you eating?” Gina asked, speeding up her little legs and following Kira from the hall and outside.

  “I’m gonna eat outside, you don’t have to if you don’t want. I know it gets hot.”

  “Oh no, its fine. I was thinking I needed some fresh air.” Gina readjusted her monstrous backpack and tossed Kira a casual smile.

  For the love of Christ.

  Kira smiled back. One person wasn’t so bad. She could still spend half her time thinking.

  She found herself nearly knocked into the lockers by the exit doors as someone shoved her and Gina to the side.

  “Hello ladies,” someone said in a singsong voice.

  “Damn it Bobby. Why are you such a prick?” Kira walked in front of him and out the doors. A circular cement table rested about a dozen paces from the doorway and she made for it in a straight line, Gina in tow.

  Bobby raised his eyebrows and put a hand over his chest. “That hurts Kira. I come up to eat lunch with you girls and you insult me. Very nice.” He smiled and sat down next to them.

  He was a tall kid, but the jacket he wore still found a way to come over his knuckles as he sat down, one leg up with his knee elevated. He pulled an apple out of his black jacket and rubbed it on his jeans after breathing on it with an annoying huff.

  She caught Gina looking at him with an odd expression. Her eyes seemed to be made of glass and she had a goofy grin plastered on her face. Gina must have felt her looking because her eyes shifted and met Kira’s. A pink hue crept onto her cheeks and she looked into her pape
r bag as if it were a thousand leagues deep.

  Kira rolled her eyes.

  “Why do you always wear that ugly jacket?” she asked.

  “Why do you always look like you’re pissed off?” He shot her a half a sneer that said, “Fuck you too.”

  She returned the look with a mocking grin and said, “Because I am.”

  Gina fidgeted and pulled a yogurt out of her bag. “I can’t believe this is our last year here.”

  Kira and Bobby stared at each other, eyes locked in a death grip, ignoring Gina’s pitiful plea to change the subject. Still refusing to blink or look away, Bobby bit into his apple with a crunch and began chewing with his mouth open.

  A buzzing began to pulse out from Kira’s bag and she reached into it, also refusing to look away. She pressed the talk button and held it to her ear.

  “Hello.”

  “Get somewhere private and give me a call.”

  Then the call was ended abruptly.

  Kira stood up, breaking the blinking contest and rushed away.

  “I win!” Bobby called after her.

  She ignored him. Her heart was spinning circles in her stomach. When she was a few feet away she looked at her recently dialed numbers and called the most recent one back.

  After a ring she heard it pick up.

  “Hello child. Are you alone?”

  “Yes Uncle.” Kira tried to keep her voice steady.

  “I know it is unusual for me to contact you but this requires our immediate attention. No sooner than I had transferred your share of the money, I received a call from our friends. The employers.” He paused on the other line. His usually cracked and weary voice seemed to be rejuvenated and he seemed fully alert.

  “Why?” A bevy of thoughts rushed through her mind. Had she fucked something up? Why would they call us? The terms were clear.

  “They were impressed. So they say. And want to meet you.” Again the pregnant pause.

  “Absolutely not. I don’t meet anyone. You know that.” She frowned, thinking of the implications.

  “Usually I agree with you. But they are willing to double the fee. I thought it might be worth bringing to your attention. Apparently the client wants to rehire you but is concerned about getting into bed with someone they know so little about.”