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Authors: Dominic R. Daniels
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over us; the public will suspect things. We need to keep the organization to appear as legitimate as possible. If not, it could cost us a massive loss in millions of dollars. No one is making a move, not now,” said Don Felice clearly.
The buzzer on Paulie’s desk rang and the secretary’s voice came out over the call box, “A Mr. Riffman to see you Mr. Santerini.”
“Very well, send him up,” said Don Felice.
A tall, well built young man with brown hair and blue eyes entered the room. He wore eyeglasses and had on a brown suit and a black tie. “Good evening, Mr. Santerini, gentlemen,” he nodded to the others. “I have this week’s transcripts and receipts as you requested.”
“Very well, please transfer these to our offshore accounts,” said Don Felice, nodding to Paulie to hand him the 10 manila envelopes that were stuffed with cash. Mr. Riffman sat down at the Don’s desk.
“I hope that there was no trouble in this week’s business,” said Mr. Riffman coolly.
“None at all,” replied Don Felice.
“Shouldn’t you be going Mr. Riffman? This is private business,” said Michael, annoyed as he felt an unsavory feeling about this man.
“Of course. Thank you for your business, gentlemen.” Mr. Riffman shook the Don’s hand and exited the room briskly. Leaving the building, Mr. Riffman returned to his car, where he activated the miniature earpiece he had planted under the edge of the Don’s desk. Back upstairs Michael presented the gun case to the Don. As he opened the latches to the case and the lid popped up, the Don’s eyes grew large and he frowned in anger.
“This is why Scarfo tried to kill us,” explained Michael sternly.
“Holy Christ!” said the Don, appalled.
“Franco Scarfo is moving high-grade military firepower to win the little war both families have been having for the last 11 years,” said Michael. “Weapons like these could tip the scales in Franco’s favor,” said Anthony.
“Where did you acquire this?” asked Paulie.
“I went and did a little snooping down at Scarfo’s warehouse the other night on a tip made by an anonymous caller. And that’s not all I saw when I was there. I also saw a couple of unsavory characters meeting with Franco Scarfo.”
“Who? Columbians, Feds?” asked the Don.
“It appears that Franco is doing business with a terrorist political group called “Diablo’s de Negro”, also known as the Black Devil’s Society. I recognized a tattoo on an arms dealer that spoke with Franco. The guy’s name is Sergio Garcia, and he is an insane son of a bitch. He’d kill you just for looking at him,” said Michael.
”What!” Mr. Riffman exclaimed, listening over his earpiece.
“Are you for sure?” Paulie asked.
“I’m positive. When I was working as an undercover agent for the CIA some years back I was given orders to take out Garcia’s militia in Spain. Garcia had his headquarters at an abandoned military base,” Michael explained.
“Why didn’t you inform us of this immediately after you found these weapons?” the Don asked firmly.
“Because of the heat that’s been coming down on the organization lately due to the smack that was stolen from that bank four nights ago, that neither family has been able to fully recover. I heard from Sal that the family has been getting too much coverage from the press,” said Michael.
“From this point on, forget about the lost money. That’s not important; what is important is finding the rest of the warehouses that are stocked with these weapons and destroying them before any major harm can be done to this family. The second job I have for you and Jackie is eliminating the source of these weapons,” said the Don.
“Giving Garcia a dirt nap won’t change anything. He has many loyal puppets who’ll just replace him if he’s taken down,” said Michael.
“Well what then?” asked the Don.
“Mike’s right, Don Felice. We need to find a better solution to eliminate this
The buzzer on Paulie’s desk rang and the secretary’s voice came out over the call box, “A Mr. Riffman to see you Mr. Santerini.”
“Very well, send him up,” said Don Felice.
A tall, well built young man with brown hair and blue eyes entered the room. He wore eyeglasses and had on a brown suit and a black tie. “Good evening, Mr. Santerini, gentlemen,” he nodded to the others. “I have this week’s transcripts and receipts as you requested.”
“Very well, please transfer these to our offshore accounts,” said Don Felice, nodding to Paulie to hand him the 10 manila envelopes that were stuffed with cash. Mr. Riffman sat down at the Don’s desk.
“I hope that there was no trouble in this week’s business,” said Mr. Riffman coolly.
“None at all,” replied Don Felice.
“Shouldn’t you be going Mr. Riffman? This is private business,” said Michael, annoyed as he felt an unsavory feeling about this man.
“Of course. Thank you for your business, gentlemen.” Mr. Riffman shook the Don’s hand and exited the room briskly. Leaving the building, Mr. Riffman returned to his car, where he activated the miniature earpiece he had planted under the edge of the Don’s desk. Back upstairs Michael presented the gun case to the Don. As he opened the latches to the case and the lid popped up, the Don’s eyes grew large and he frowned in anger.
“This is why Scarfo tried to kill us,” explained Michael sternly.
“Holy Christ!” said the Don, appalled.
“Franco Scarfo is moving high-grade military firepower to win the little war both families have been having for the last 11 years,” said Michael. “Weapons like these could tip the scales in Franco’s favor,” said Anthony.
“Where did you acquire this?” asked Paulie.
“I went and did a little snooping down at Scarfo’s warehouse the other night on a tip made by an anonymous caller. And that’s not all I saw when I was there. I also saw a couple of unsavory characters meeting with Franco Scarfo.”
“Who? Columbians, Feds?” asked the Don.
“It appears that Franco is doing business with a terrorist political group called “Diablo’s de Negro”, also known as the Black Devil’s Society. I recognized a tattoo on an arms dealer that spoke with Franco. The guy’s name is Sergio Garcia, and he is an insane son of a bitch. He’d kill you just for looking at him,” said Michael.
”What!” Mr. Riffman exclaimed, listening over his earpiece.
“Are you for sure?” Paulie asked.
“I’m positive. When I was working as an undercover agent for the CIA some years back I was given orders to take out Garcia’s militia in Spain. Garcia had his headquarters at an abandoned military base,” Michael explained.
“Why didn’t you inform us of this immediately after you found these weapons?” the Don asked firmly.
“Because of the heat that’s been coming down on the organization lately due to the smack that was stolen from that bank four nights ago, that neither family has been able to fully recover. I heard from Sal that the family has been getting too much coverage from the press,” said Michael.
“From this point on, forget about the lost money. That’s not important; what is important is finding the rest of the warehouses that are stocked with these weapons and destroying them before any major harm can be done to this family. The second job I have for you and Jackie is eliminating the source of these weapons,” said the Don.
“Giving Garcia a dirt nap won’t change anything. He has many loyal puppets who’ll just replace him if he’s taken down,” said Michael.
“Well what then?” asked the Don.
“Mike’s right, Don Felice. We need to find a better solution to eliminate this
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