Post by James on May 11, 2008 20:42:35 GMT -5
It was Valentine’s Day. All was quiet around the United States with small everyday crimes taking place in the usual areas. Then the clock struck eight and ten simultaneous shots rang out through ten different counties through New York and New Jersey; ten men fell to the floor of their homes with bullets in them; ten assassins walked out of the houses, holstering their weapons as they went.
Just like that, with those ten simple shots from silenced pistols, ten major mob members were killed.
Tall brown-haired agent Robert Bailey head of the department for the Federal Bereau of Investigations that looked into all mob-related incidents. Whether it was a small misdemeanor or a mass murder, it fell under his juristiction. Still relatively young at thirty-eight, he’d been working for the FBI for eleven years when he became the youngest to head the department.
Robert was walked into his office and had just sat down behind his desk and reached for his stack of mail when his phone rang. He looked down at the caller ID and saw to his surprise that it was John Zabatino, head of the investigative branch of homeland security and his superior. He hastily picked up the phone and greeted him while trying to think why he was getting this call this early in the morning.
“Bailey I have a new case for you to handle,” Zabatino said. “It’s a top priority case and you’re leading it. Briefing in my office in ten minutes. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” Robert replied.
Seven minutes later, sitting outside Zabatino's office waiting to be admitted, Robert flipped through the day’s newspaper. He was reading the feature story about ten prominent mobsters who had been killed the night before. If this acticle’s information is as accurate as it supposed to be, Robert mused, four major mob families lost valuable members last night.
“Mr. Bailey,” came the voice of Zabatino’s secretary. Robert lifted his head up to look at her as he folded the paper back up and tucked under his arm. “Mr. Zabatino will see you now.”
“Thank you Ms. Coleman,” he replied as he walked through the double doors into the department head’s office. John Zabatino was seated at his desk sorting through some papers. He glanced up quickly then picked up a folder from the side of his desk and held it out to Robert who had just sat down across from him. Robert took the folder and began flipping through it. After reading the newspaper article, he was only slightly surprised to see what case he’d been assigned to.
“As you can see Bailey, I’ve assigned you to that mass mob murder case. What do you know so far?”
“Well, sir,” Robert responded, “I was reading the paper before I came in and of the five major mob families, four of them lost at least one member last night. The one that didn’t lose anyone were the Sortinos. The Sortinos are the smallest of the five.”
“So you think that it them?” Zabatino inquired despite the fact he knew his best agent too well for him to think that simple. That was one thing that he liked about Bailey, he was predictable in the way he merely noted the obvious things then searched for the more obscure things.
“No sir, it’s too obvious to be them,” Robert replied confirming Zabatino’s thoughts. “Actually I think that they are being framed by another even smaller family or even one or all of the other four families. A couple of deaths within their own family would be nothing to taking down an entire rival family.”
“Do you know of any smaller families who might have done this?”
“All of them sir. There are few, for lack of a better word, alliances within the mafia sir. Especially among the five big ones.”
“Then what do you suggest Bailey?”
“I suggest I get started on the investigation, sir. If you’ll excuse me,” Robert said, rising from his chair, “I’ll go do that now.”
“Yes, you’re excused, keep me updated, this is a very important case.”
“Will do sir.”
As he walked back to his office, Robert was in deep thought. He was reading the files in the folder Zabatino had given him but not really reading them. He was thinking about the information he had gathered himself rather than the information printed on the papers the folder contained.
“Hey Rob,” a voice called from behind him, breaking his train of thought. Turning he saw his coworkers and old friends Tom Whiting and Sean Williams. Tom was a second generation Scottish-American. Sean’s ancestors were slaves brought to and sold in America when Christopher Columbus had first sailed across the Atlantic Ocean in 1492.
“What’s up guys,” Robert said in greeting to them.
“We heard that you got the new mob murder case and were wondering if you were going to need any help,” Sean said.
“Well, seeing as I just got assigned to the case less than twenty minutes ago, not yet, but if I do happen to run into any trouble or a dead end, I’ll be sure to give you two a call. Think the Yanks’ll wind up losing the four-game series tonight three-to-one or tie it up at two-two to end the season?” They both said they thought the Yankees would pull off the tie. Then grinning slightly they nodded and said they’d see him later as they went back to their own offices. Robert went back to reading the files, but this time, he was actually registering what he read.
The first mob member was Joseph Roomette of the Alunzio Family. The Alunzios, Robert knew from past research and common knowledge, was the smallest of the “big five.” He once had a friend who had mistakenly angered the Alunzios. His friend never walked again after they were done with him. However, as they were the smartest of all the families, no charges could ever be made to stick to any of their members.
Joseph Roomette had been a young man. He was supposedly the head chief of concealing the family’s assorted operations. Although he was only twenty-seven years old, he was the smartest out of the rest of the tactical staff.
Next was Steven Partanna, also of the Alunzio family. From what the FBI knew of him, he was the most reliable and respected hit man in the entire family. His jobs were known though out almost the entire FBI. Again, because the Alunzios were so tricky and secretive, and because of Roomette's tactical genius, no charges could be made to stick against him.
The last of the Alunzio’s casualties was Vincent Capaci. Capaci had been Alunzio’s right hand man, therefore a very important part of the family. Not only did his death shock everyone in the family, it angered them because they knew that he’d been assassinated in cold blood.
John Gallo was an important part of the Vannucci family just as Capaci was important to the Alunzios. He wasn’t Vannucci’s right hand man, but his opinion was greatly respected by him. Almost every time before he did something, though he didn’t always follow his advice, Vannucci consulted Gallo.
Vannucci’s right-hand man was Antonio Lentini, who had also been killed on Valentine’s Day. Together they made all the decisions on what the family did: who would need to be killed, the best way for them to make money, how to manage that money and how the family was run overall. With his death, the Vannuccis wouldn’t be silent or calm for long. They were well known for their short tempers.
Jerry Palermo, Gary Bocchetti and Dean Montabono were all part of the Dragotto family. This family was well-known for their hit men, which all the aforementioned deceased were. They were wildly renowned as the best hit men in the mob world closely followed by the Alunzio’s Partanna. In fact, the only known “hit men” that would be even considered to be rated better than these three would have to be the United States’ Army’s trained snipers and marines.
Joey Capizzi was the Dragotto’s Joseph Roomette. Though he’d been slightly older at the age of thirty, he wasn’t as smart in the tactical planning. His only real advantage over Roomette was the experience he’d gained over the years.
There was but one casualty for the Carducci family. That person was Frank Carducci, the godfather of the family. He’d left behind four sons. Together, Robert surmised, the four of them were already planning a way to get whoever had done this to their father. It’ll be like something out of The Godfather, Robert thought.
For the past couple months, not many disputes had arisen concerning these families. Robert knew that this time of peace between the families would be short-lived now that they had all lost a valuable part of their organizations. Maybe they’ll work together on this, he thought. Not likely. That’s one of those “highly improbable” things.
Robert sat down at his desk and logged onto his account. He brought up the internet and went to find as much information as he could to find some little link to the murders of those ten men. Other than them being very prominent members of very prominent families, there didn’t seem to be any. Even though they were the only reason Robert had the job he had, he felt absolutely no remorse for any of them.
You’d think that their deaths would lighten his hatred a bit, seeing as he would have to keep an eye on ten less guys now, but he saw it as a good thing they were dead (ten less pieces of scum in the world), but more work for him. Now instead of sitting back and simply trying to keep track of what they were up to, he now had to do some work and investigate ten murders. Just his luck.
Okay, let’s see here. What have we got so far? Three dead from the Alunzios, two from the Vannuccis, four Dragottos, and the Carducci godfather. All very important men. All dead from a single bullet shot hit in some vital organ in the upper body. He looked down at the coroner’s photographs of the bodies. Nothing there. Hmm, I’m running out of ideas here. Well there’s only one good thing I can see with this case. It’ll keep me on my toes on the search for clues now, and will actually provide a challenge for once.
At ten o’clock, Robert punched out for the night and headed for his Lincoln Navigator. Unlike the rest of his colleagues, instead of going with a traditional black, he chose a navy blue color, reminiscent of his favorite baseball team’s color. On the inside of the car, just as a little personal perk, he had seat covers with pinstriped and a small New York Yankees symbol in the middle of them. Just as he reached his SUV, Matthew B. Fantanic pulled in for his night shift. As Matt got out of his traditional black Mercedes, he glanced over at Robert and smiled.
“What a shame, eh Robby? Lost the series to the Red Sox, huh? Well, it’s not a shame for me, I’m actually glad you guys lost the series. Go Sox!” He started to laugh. Then Robert started to laugh surprising and silencing Matt.
“Yeah, go Sox!” he said. “Finished three and sixteen against the Yankees on the year, worst stats in the division in almost every category-” the smile had disappeared from Matt’s face as Robert’s got bigger, “-worst record in baseball for the second year in a row at fifty-one and one-eleven, least runs scored in the majors and, to top it all off, worst batting average by a major league team in over a decade. Well, you know the Yankees, Matt. They got to give the losers some glory some of the time.”
He proceeded to get into his Navigator, start it up and pull away, leaving Matt standing there speechless. “Call home,” Robert said. The Navigator’s built-in computer dialed Robert’s house and his wife answered.
“Hi, Robert. Are you on your way home dear?”
“Yes Marie, I’m pulling onto the turnpike now. I’ll be home in about twenty minutes.”
“Okay, I’ll see you then, love you.”
“I love you too dear. See you in a few.”
About ten minutes later, still heading down the turnpike, thinking about the case, something that could have been a very important part to solving the case. However, pushed it to the back of his mind and he didn’t think about it again. He was off-duty now, after he left the building he was supposed to put all work matters behind, as Marie told him more often she should have to. Most loved to leave work and all of it’s troubles behind. But Robert and Marie were trying to get a family started and although the mob wasn’t as active as it had been back during the depression years, it still existed.
Robert knew that he wouldn’t be able to protect his family from everything, but getting rid of the some of the scum in the world was better than having all of it still there. After all, the crime rate was at the lowest point it had been in in the past five years, down almost two percent from the previous year.
At half past ten, he pulled into the driveway of his cape cod house. He looked up at the sky when he got out of his car and noticed that a threatening black cloud was hovering overhead. Oh joy, just what we need, more saturation.
He walked up to the door and even though he knew it would be locked, he reached for the knob and turned it out of habit. To his great surprise, the door wasn’t locked, and it opened right up. That’s odd. She never leaves the door unlocked, especially at night. He walked in pondering why his wife who was always a fanatic about safety of their home just as much as she was a fanatic about the health of her husband. After he closed the door, he noticed the presence of a song playing in the house. He strained his ears to hear what song was playing. That’s Artificial Flowers by Bobby Darin. Romantic yet sad. Why would Marie have that of all songs playing?
“Marie,” he said, “I’m home.” He stood there for a moment, still as a tree on a windless day but heard nothing except for the song, which he noted was repeating itself. Now he was worried. Marie wasn’t one to rush to see her husband when he arrived home, but she never outright ignored his arrival. He reached for the drawer on the nearest table and pulled out a 9mm caliber pistol.
Just like that, with those ten simple shots from silenced pistols, ten major mob members were killed.
Tall brown-haired agent Robert Bailey head of the department for the Federal Bereau of Investigations that looked into all mob-related incidents. Whether it was a small misdemeanor or a mass murder, it fell under his juristiction. Still relatively young at thirty-eight, he’d been working for the FBI for eleven years when he became the youngest to head the department.
Robert was walked into his office and had just sat down behind his desk and reached for his stack of mail when his phone rang. He looked down at the caller ID and saw to his surprise that it was John Zabatino, head of the investigative branch of homeland security and his superior. He hastily picked up the phone and greeted him while trying to think why he was getting this call this early in the morning.
“Bailey I have a new case for you to handle,” Zabatino said. “It’s a top priority case and you’re leading it. Briefing in my office in ten minutes. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” Robert replied.
Seven minutes later, sitting outside Zabatino's office waiting to be admitted, Robert flipped through the day’s newspaper. He was reading the feature story about ten prominent mobsters who had been killed the night before. If this acticle’s information is as accurate as it supposed to be, Robert mused, four major mob families lost valuable members last night.
“Mr. Bailey,” came the voice of Zabatino’s secretary. Robert lifted his head up to look at her as he folded the paper back up and tucked under his arm. “Mr. Zabatino will see you now.”
“Thank you Ms. Coleman,” he replied as he walked through the double doors into the department head’s office. John Zabatino was seated at his desk sorting through some papers. He glanced up quickly then picked up a folder from the side of his desk and held it out to Robert who had just sat down across from him. Robert took the folder and began flipping through it. After reading the newspaper article, he was only slightly surprised to see what case he’d been assigned to.
“As you can see Bailey, I’ve assigned you to that mass mob murder case. What do you know so far?”
“Well, sir,” Robert responded, “I was reading the paper before I came in and of the five major mob families, four of them lost at least one member last night. The one that didn’t lose anyone were the Sortinos. The Sortinos are the smallest of the five.”
“So you think that it them?” Zabatino inquired despite the fact he knew his best agent too well for him to think that simple. That was one thing that he liked about Bailey, he was predictable in the way he merely noted the obvious things then searched for the more obscure things.
“No sir, it’s too obvious to be them,” Robert replied confirming Zabatino’s thoughts. “Actually I think that they are being framed by another even smaller family or even one or all of the other four families. A couple of deaths within their own family would be nothing to taking down an entire rival family.”
“Do you know of any smaller families who might have done this?”
“All of them sir. There are few, for lack of a better word, alliances within the mafia sir. Especially among the five big ones.”
“Then what do you suggest Bailey?”
“I suggest I get started on the investigation, sir. If you’ll excuse me,” Robert said, rising from his chair, “I’ll go do that now.”
“Yes, you’re excused, keep me updated, this is a very important case.”
“Will do sir.”
As he walked back to his office, Robert was in deep thought. He was reading the files in the folder Zabatino had given him but not really reading them. He was thinking about the information he had gathered himself rather than the information printed on the papers the folder contained.
“Hey Rob,” a voice called from behind him, breaking his train of thought. Turning he saw his coworkers and old friends Tom Whiting and Sean Williams. Tom was a second generation Scottish-American. Sean’s ancestors were slaves brought to and sold in America when Christopher Columbus had first sailed across the Atlantic Ocean in 1492.
“What’s up guys,” Robert said in greeting to them.
“We heard that you got the new mob murder case and were wondering if you were going to need any help,” Sean said.
“Well, seeing as I just got assigned to the case less than twenty minutes ago, not yet, but if I do happen to run into any trouble or a dead end, I’ll be sure to give you two a call. Think the Yanks’ll wind up losing the four-game series tonight three-to-one or tie it up at two-two to end the season?” They both said they thought the Yankees would pull off the tie. Then grinning slightly they nodded and said they’d see him later as they went back to their own offices. Robert went back to reading the files, but this time, he was actually registering what he read.
The first mob member was Joseph Roomette of the Alunzio Family. The Alunzios, Robert knew from past research and common knowledge, was the smallest of the “big five.” He once had a friend who had mistakenly angered the Alunzios. His friend never walked again after they were done with him. However, as they were the smartest of all the families, no charges could ever be made to stick to any of their members.
Joseph Roomette had been a young man. He was supposedly the head chief of concealing the family’s assorted operations. Although he was only twenty-seven years old, he was the smartest out of the rest of the tactical staff.
Next was Steven Partanna, also of the Alunzio family. From what the FBI knew of him, he was the most reliable and respected hit man in the entire family. His jobs were known though out almost the entire FBI. Again, because the Alunzios were so tricky and secretive, and because of Roomette's tactical genius, no charges could be made to stick against him.
The last of the Alunzio’s casualties was Vincent Capaci. Capaci had been Alunzio’s right hand man, therefore a very important part of the family. Not only did his death shock everyone in the family, it angered them because they knew that he’d been assassinated in cold blood.
John Gallo was an important part of the Vannucci family just as Capaci was important to the Alunzios. He wasn’t Vannucci’s right hand man, but his opinion was greatly respected by him. Almost every time before he did something, though he didn’t always follow his advice, Vannucci consulted Gallo.
Vannucci’s right-hand man was Antonio Lentini, who had also been killed on Valentine’s Day. Together they made all the decisions on what the family did: who would need to be killed, the best way for them to make money, how to manage that money and how the family was run overall. With his death, the Vannuccis wouldn’t be silent or calm for long. They were well known for their short tempers.
Jerry Palermo, Gary Bocchetti and Dean Montabono were all part of the Dragotto family. This family was well-known for their hit men, which all the aforementioned deceased were. They were wildly renowned as the best hit men in the mob world closely followed by the Alunzio’s Partanna. In fact, the only known “hit men” that would be even considered to be rated better than these three would have to be the United States’ Army’s trained snipers and marines.
Joey Capizzi was the Dragotto’s Joseph Roomette. Though he’d been slightly older at the age of thirty, he wasn’t as smart in the tactical planning. His only real advantage over Roomette was the experience he’d gained over the years.
There was but one casualty for the Carducci family. That person was Frank Carducci, the godfather of the family. He’d left behind four sons. Together, Robert surmised, the four of them were already planning a way to get whoever had done this to their father. It’ll be like something out of The Godfather, Robert thought.
For the past couple months, not many disputes had arisen concerning these families. Robert knew that this time of peace between the families would be short-lived now that they had all lost a valuable part of their organizations. Maybe they’ll work together on this, he thought. Not likely. That’s one of those “highly improbable” things.
Robert sat down at his desk and logged onto his account. He brought up the internet and went to find as much information as he could to find some little link to the murders of those ten men. Other than them being very prominent members of very prominent families, there didn’t seem to be any. Even though they were the only reason Robert had the job he had, he felt absolutely no remorse for any of them.
You’d think that their deaths would lighten his hatred a bit, seeing as he would have to keep an eye on ten less guys now, but he saw it as a good thing they were dead (ten less pieces of scum in the world), but more work for him. Now instead of sitting back and simply trying to keep track of what they were up to, he now had to do some work and investigate ten murders. Just his luck.
Okay, let’s see here. What have we got so far? Three dead from the Alunzios, two from the Vannuccis, four Dragottos, and the Carducci godfather. All very important men. All dead from a single bullet shot hit in some vital organ in the upper body. He looked down at the coroner’s photographs of the bodies. Nothing there. Hmm, I’m running out of ideas here. Well there’s only one good thing I can see with this case. It’ll keep me on my toes on the search for clues now, and will actually provide a challenge for once.
At ten o’clock, Robert punched out for the night and headed for his Lincoln Navigator. Unlike the rest of his colleagues, instead of going with a traditional black, he chose a navy blue color, reminiscent of his favorite baseball team’s color. On the inside of the car, just as a little personal perk, he had seat covers with pinstriped and a small New York Yankees symbol in the middle of them. Just as he reached his SUV, Matthew B. Fantanic pulled in for his night shift. As Matt got out of his traditional black Mercedes, he glanced over at Robert and smiled.
“What a shame, eh Robby? Lost the series to the Red Sox, huh? Well, it’s not a shame for me, I’m actually glad you guys lost the series. Go Sox!” He started to laugh. Then Robert started to laugh surprising and silencing Matt.
“Yeah, go Sox!” he said. “Finished three and sixteen against the Yankees on the year, worst stats in the division in almost every category-” the smile had disappeared from Matt’s face as Robert’s got bigger, “-worst record in baseball for the second year in a row at fifty-one and one-eleven, least runs scored in the majors and, to top it all off, worst batting average by a major league team in over a decade. Well, you know the Yankees, Matt. They got to give the losers some glory some of the time.”
He proceeded to get into his Navigator, start it up and pull away, leaving Matt standing there speechless. “Call home,” Robert said. The Navigator’s built-in computer dialed Robert’s house and his wife answered.
“Hi, Robert. Are you on your way home dear?”
“Yes Marie, I’m pulling onto the turnpike now. I’ll be home in about twenty minutes.”
“Okay, I’ll see you then, love you.”
“I love you too dear. See you in a few.”
About ten minutes later, still heading down the turnpike, thinking about the case, something that could have been a very important part to solving the case. However, pushed it to the back of his mind and he didn’t think about it again. He was off-duty now, after he left the building he was supposed to put all work matters behind, as Marie told him more often she should have to. Most loved to leave work and all of it’s troubles behind. But Robert and Marie were trying to get a family started and although the mob wasn’t as active as it had been back during the depression years, it still existed.
Robert knew that he wouldn’t be able to protect his family from everything, but getting rid of the some of the scum in the world was better than having all of it still there. After all, the crime rate was at the lowest point it had been in in the past five years, down almost two percent from the previous year.
At half past ten, he pulled into the driveway of his cape cod house. He looked up at the sky when he got out of his car and noticed that a threatening black cloud was hovering overhead. Oh joy, just what we need, more saturation.
He walked up to the door and even though he knew it would be locked, he reached for the knob and turned it out of habit. To his great surprise, the door wasn’t locked, and it opened right up. That’s odd. She never leaves the door unlocked, especially at night. He walked in pondering why his wife who was always a fanatic about safety of their home just as much as she was a fanatic about the health of her husband. After he closed the door, he noticed the presence of a song playing in the house. He strained his ears to hear what song was playing. That’s Artificial Flowers by Bobby Darin. Romantic yet sad. Why would Marie have that of all songs playing?
“Marie,” he said, “I’m home.” He stood there for a moment, still as a tree on a windless day but heard nothing except for the song, which he noted was repeating itself. Now he was worried. Marie wasn’t one to rush to see her husband when he arrived home, but she never outright ignored his arrival. He reached for the drawer on the nearest table and pulled out a 9mm caliber pistol.