didn’t. But, it was time to get back to reality. He was on the road again after a relaxing day helping Ari’s dad install a new door to Ari’s former bedroom. The night had come quickly. Time sort of ran ahead of him, probably due to the fact he was having such a good time. He’d sent a message to Ari, encrypted, nothing genius, a simple e-mail via Sophie which read : B’ Day. Anyone hacking might believe it was an innocuous Happy Birthday wish when in fact to the receiver it was a code for BEEN DELAYED.
He never used the same contact sources or any mafia lingo, such as ‘ this thing of ours’ which is a literal translation of the Italian words La Costra Nostra. The Giacanti’s were not of that lot; however in the course of business and time the lines had become blurred. Men like Nico were the protectors of a family, royalty by their own right; rejected outcasts who became inadvertently the rulers of lawless men deemed an organization of crime.
Nico was a lethal ambassador for the Giacanti Famiglia. His actions were always in their interest. In the field avoiding detection from law enforcement required he limit correspondence with loved ones. Except checking on his pregnant ex-wife and to give an update on his ETA became a high priority.
Nico stopped at a 7-Eleven for peanuts and coffee. He wanted a gourmet tea, but many of these national chains only carried standard brands. After he paid for the stuff, he sat in the parking lot, munching peanuts and checking his laptop. The satellite and long distance tracking devices on his sons and wild sisters was uneventful. So far, the rebellious foursome remained stationary. The bright blue dots were clustered with Ari’s red one. Madeline and Evangeline were pink dots right at the exact location of their estate. Most likely the girls were in bed preparing to wake or in their case sleep late since it was an early Sunday morning in Sicily.
He checked his inboxes. Two messages, both important. One came from a tracker, an IT guy in India with a coordinate, another recommending a book on politics. He memorized the information and then cleaned out the hard drive. He checked his watch, took a gulp of coffee, tossed some nuts in his mouth and analyzed the information while staring at the Long Island Expressway.
Hell, he had to get to Italy. Check it out. He finished the nuts, and hesitated when he glanced at the screen on the GPS tracker for Sergio’s car. Nico growled. “Goddamn that fucking kid. Christ Vincenzo…fratello…you’re playing a cruel joke on me…you always did have a warped sense of humor. You hear me?”
He started the engine and tore out of the parking lot.
~
Nina finished her act and headed to the dressing room to change when Tony stopped her. Caminello requested the Diamond Room and Nina as his guest. She nodded, Caminello was a great tipper. The kind who doesn’t chuck one’s at the dancers and thinks that’ll get her attention. Oh no, he came with one hundred dollar bills, stuck them on the waist of G-Strings with the certainty he’d have a night of splendor like a president.
“Give me five minutes and then send him in.”
Tony walked back to Caminello’s VIP table, leaned over and said to the honored guest, “She’s honored.”
The stout man gave a knowing smile. “Thanks Tony,” he said in a gravelly voice of someone who smoked too much and shouted orders. He reached in his pocket for his money clip, peeled off several bills and placed it Tony’s hand. “Have a bottle of the best inside and you keep the rest.”
Tony closed his hand around the cash without looking at the amount. Caminello wasn’t cheap like Chip. There was no reason to count the bills, in fact he probably overpaid by a thousand. “No problem.”
Tony sauntered to the bar, spoke to one of the scantily dressed women tending bar and made the preparations. He craned his neck at the sound of a male voice that he thought he’d sent on his
He never used the same contact sources or any mafia lingo, such as ‘ this thing of ours’ which is a literal translation of the Italian words La Costra Nostra. The Giacanti’s were not of that lot; however in the course of business and time the lines had become blurred. Men like Nico were the protectors of a family, royalty by their own right; rejected outcasts who became inadvertently the rulers of lawless men deemed an organization of crime.
Nico was a lethal ambassador for the Giacanti Famiglia. His actions were always in their interest. In the field avoiding detection from law enforcement required he limit correspondence with loved ones. Except checking on his pregnant ex-wife and to give an update on his ETA became a high priority.
Nico stopped at a 7-Eleven for peanuts and coffee. He wanted a gourmet tea, but many of these national chains only carried standard brands. After he paid for the stuff, he sat in the parking lot, munching peanuts and checking his laptop. The satellite and long distance tracking devices on his sons and wild sisters was uneventful. So far, the rebellious foursome remained stationary. The bright blue dots were clustered with Ari’s red one. Madeline and Evangeline were pink dots right at the exact location of their estate. Most likely the girls were in bed preparing to wake or in their case sleep late since it was an early Sunday morning in Sicily.
He checked his inboxes. Two messages, both important. One came from a tracker, an IT guy in India with a coordinate, another recommending a book on politics. He memorized the information and then cleaned out the hard drive. He checked his watch, took a gulp of coffee, tossed some nuts in his mouth and analyzed the information while staring at the Long Island Expressway.
Hell, he had to get to Italy. Check it out. He finished the nuts, and hesitated when he glanced at the screen on the GPS tracker for Sergio’s car. Nico growled. “Goddamn that fucking kid. Christ Vincenzo…fratello…you’re playing a cruel joke on me…you always did have a warped sense of humor. You hear me?”
He started the engine and tore out of the parking lot.
~
Nina finished her act and headed to the dressing room to change when Tony stopped her. Caminello requested the Diamond Room and Nina as his guest. She nodded, Caminello was a great tipper. The kind who doesn’t chuck one’s at the dancers and thinks that’ll get her attention. Oh no, he came with one hundred dollar bills, stuck them on the waist of G-Strings with the certainty he’d have a night of splendor like a president.
“Give me five minutes and then send him in.”
Tony walked back to Caminello’s VIP table, leaned over and said to the honored guest, “She’s honored.”
The stout man gave a knowing smile. “Thanks Tony,” he said in a gravelly voice of someone who smoked too much and shouted orders. He reached in his pocket for his money clip, peeled off several bills and placed it Tony’s hand. “Have a bottle of the best inside and you keep the rest.”
Tony closed his hand around the cash without looking at the amount. Caminello wasn’t cheap like Chip. There was no reason to count the bills, in fact he probably overpaid by a thousand. “No problem.”
Tony sauntered to the bar, spoke to one of the scantily dressed women tending bar and made the preparations. He craned his neck at the sound of a male voice that he thought he’d sent on his
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