Spieri had spent most of his day waiting in his apartment on Carson Dr. He had been here for 6 months now and the place had lost most of its newness. One bedroom set astride his great room which was comprised of his kitchen, dining area, and living room. Chris leaned against the kitchen counter set below yellowed white metal cabinets and fingered the now rising edge of the checkerboard contact paper he'd applied to the countertops months earlier. It had seemed at the time to make this roach motel quaint and homey but now, in its tattered condition, only added to its lackluster. His obsessive smoking had stained the once white drapes and walls. Ashtrays overflowed with Camel butts littered all of his 600 square feet. As a mouse ran across his foot, he kicked swiftly, and pined over the life he had dreamed of as a child. This reality fell far from reflecting those visions of college, wives, children and profession. College he had attempted. Marriage he had attempted. Children he had attempted. Now on to profession. 5 years ago he saw himself on the other side of the law. In school to be an attorney, married, and trying to get pregnant was far away from Spieri's current position. Now just a small-time runner for the Peppelini's situations had changed. His apartment was free, respect came cheap, and the money seemed to flow in abundantly
Less than a year ago he hadn't even seen cocaine. As the main distributor in the area just outside of the Peppelini radius, which could be viewed as a demilitarized zone, Chris was knee deep in the shit. The normal rules didn't apply there. Honor took a back seat to survival and name dropping had no effect in the “Audubon Downs”. The fringes of the three main family’s overlapped there but no one claimed any authority or responsibility for the actions or business which took place, though everyone wanted a piece of the action.
Chris had been waiting for his shipment for more that three hours while listening unintentionally to the sounds of the carnival just blocks away. Franco had personally taken hold of his business dealings the previous month and Franco was hard to answer to. Chris wanted nothing to do with the offing of anyone whether innocent or guilty. And if Johnny didn't show up quick it was gonna mean a call to the family. He dreaded having to make that call. He made a nervous move towards the 5th story window to have another check when he was suddenly startled by the door. He sped towards the knocking.
“You better have a good fuckin excuse!”
The door busted from its frame and cracked Chris on the forehead just above the right eye. He fell in slow-motion through waves of white and black. In the gray between these blinding waves he just made out two looming figures before darkness consumed him.
The dull pounding in his head slowly brought Chris back to a world he was starting to dread. He felt the crust of dried blood on his face and stretched his neck slowly to peel himself from the crimson puddle on the low nap beige carpet. Though it was dark he knew he hadn’t been out for long. The carnival could still be heard in full effect. Every part of his body was beginning to ache and Chris knew he had suffered a severe beating. He also knew no matter how much pain he felt he would have to report to Franco. He struggled to make it to a prone position but winced from extreme pain as his left knee touched the ground. It was a pain very different from the bruises that riddled his body, much more sharp this time. Chris rolled to his back quickly and glanced at his knee to find a plastic baggie and blood stained paper note stuck to his knee cap. He tugged at the plastic expecting it to pull easily from the blood which he assumed attached it. Again pain shot through his body. He waited for the pain to subside and inspected the situation closer. The fuckers had stapled it to his patella. Two large gauged carpentry staples pressed deep into his flesh and undoubtedly through the cartilage. Now burdened with feverish anger coupled with excruciating pain he yanked off the note and bag. He screamed loudly and dropped his back to the floor. He unfolded the note without looking in the bag.
It read in all caps handwriting:
'We now OWN the Downs' - Zar Vlasov
Chris refolded the note and pulled the plastic bag up to eye level. It, like himself, was blood laden; only the bag’s blood seemed to be coated on the inside. This made its contents impossible to see. He opened it and dumped it onto his shirt. His chest seemed to sink under its weight and he gasped as he made out the figure of a long nailed severed pinky. Johnny was in trouble or even worse. Shit was about to hit the fan.
“Arty, Arty!!” Pauly’s screams echoed through main hall of the manor. He and Pauly dragged Spieri through the living area toward Arturo’s office.
Chris let out a moan as the men began to move more quickly.
“Watch the fuckin’ leg!”
“Shut the fuck up, you’ll have plenty of time to cry when we get this shit figured out.” Fabio blurted at Chris and continued their journey across the massive Persian rug that nearly covered all of the green granite flooring. The Regianza home was filled with the finest that money could buy. The smell of mahogany and leather, slightly stained by the odor of tomato and garlic, quickly filled their noses. The huge tapestries that hung from the 15-foot ceilings only added to the home’s “Old World” feel. Chris had never been to Arturo’s home and would have been highly impressed under different circumstances.
Pauly began to shout once more when he was interrupted by the door at the far end of the room swinging open. “Who the fu…Jesus Christ Pauly, you scared the shit out of me.” Arturo stepped out of the darkness and began to holster his gun under his always beautifully tailored suit. He looked Chris over with slight contempt. “Who is this?” “Chris Spieri…” Fabio began before he was cut short by hard slap across the face. “Don’t talk to me you fuckin’ prick!” Arturo could barely stand the sight of Fabio since he had botched a job 2 years before that had nearly gotten Dimes and Johnny killed. His brother was the only thing that had kept him alive. One more fuckup like that and even a brother’s love wouldn’t be able to save him. “You haven’t earned that privilege.” “Chris Spieri” Pauly answered quickly “He’s been working for Franco in the Downs.” Arturo paused as if waiting for more. “What’s this all about? Why is he in my home? Why does he look like he’s been through a meat grinder?”
Pauly passed the blood stained scrap of paper to Regianza without a word. He looked over the note, took a deep breath, and then sighed. “Well…let’s get him cleaned up and for God’s sake get him off of my rug. Its worth more than all three of your lives.”
The three men stood solid as Arturo turned towards the kitchen door. He made a perturbed glance back. “Well, what are you waiting for…?”
“There’s more.” Pauly reached into the pocket of his long beige coat and produced the blood coated plastic bag from Spieri’s apartment and handed it without explanation to Regianza. He carefully inspected the bag’s contents. His arm dropped quickly to his side before he gave the three men a saddened look.
“Is this…”
“I think so, Arty. That’s why we came to you first.”
Both Pauly and Fabio knew the history between Arturo and Johnny. Arturo had hand picked Johnny from the other neighborhood thugs when he was only 15. He was spry and intelligent. He showed no fear and learned quickly. Arturo admired the boy for his versatility. An ace shot, suave and charismatic, with an exceptional expertise in computers and electronics. John had single handedly masterminded the family’s now massive computer system, which made it possible to hide all of their illegal business dealing into the accounting work of their legitimate businesses. After a bullet had passed through his gut and wedged itself an unoperatable quarter inch from his spine Johnny had become addicted to drugs to deal with the constant pain. Drugs seem to have their most damaging effects on the highly intelligent. Johnny’s once “sharp as a tack” mental abilities had been whittled down to the dullness of a butter knife. He no longer had the facilities to handle the important jobs and spent most of his money on the product he delivered. Arturo full heartedly blamed this on Fabio. Fabio should’ve been the one with a hunk of led in his back. And he showed this scorn in his eyes.
“I’m sorry Arty” Pauly consoled
“Like I said, let’s get him fixed up.” Regianza nodded towards Chris and held open the kitchen door.
Chris sat head in hand at the breakfast table in the corner of Arturo’s expansive maple adorned kitchen. Pauly and Fabio sat to each of his sides now in what seemed to be more calm states of mind. Regainza pulled the stylish cordless phone, which contrasted against the more traditional theme of his home, from its hook and began to dial.
“Laetitia,…Arty…sorry to call at such an hour but, I need to meet me at my home… I know it’s late. I know…I know…I’ll expain when you get here….ok…I’ll see you in few minutes…just come to the back…Thanks…I know you do…goodbye.”
Arturo laid the phone down onto the table and wiped the sweat from his beaded brow with a handkerchief from his breast pocket.
“A doctor will be here in moment.”
“I don’t need a doctor Mister Regainza.” Chris spoke respectfully
“That’s probably true but we have a staff doctor who gets paid either way. Better to be safe than sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“You boys go on home.” Arturo motioned Pauly and Fabio out with his hand. “We’ll handle everything from here.” He then glanced at Spieri. “While we wait why don’t you give me the details of exactly what happened.” The two heavyset “sides of beef” left without a word. This provided Chris with his first relief of tension for the night. Chris ran through the events of the last few hours. He poured out every detail that he could remember. For more than an hour he delved into the recesses of his painful ordeal and pulled from it every detail that might be helpful. Two hard knocks came from the door of the kitchen before it swung open to expose the back side of a sweatered and panted woman dragging a large black bag. Arturo sprung from his seat.
“Let me help you with that.”
Chris tried to rise to her aid but was quickly seated from the pain in his knee.
“You sit back down, son, I’ll get this. You’ve had plenty of excitement for one day.”
Chris eased back into his seat as Arturo grabbed the bag from the young woman’s grasp. He pulled it easily up the stoop and placed it outside the swing of the door.
“Thanks for coming on such short notice.”
“Not a problem, Arty. Never is.”
Their short embrace, which blocked Chris’s view, seemed all but a lifetime.
“So, where’s my patient?” She spoke with some urgency.
“Right over here.” Arturo made an open-handed point towards Chris. “He’s all yours. I’ve got to make a few calls.”
Arturo skirted swiftly towards the inner door.
“This is doctor Speneli. She’ll take good care of you. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.” He paused for a moment before passing through the swinging door.
“You did good today kid. It won’t be forgotten.”
“Thanks.”
Laetitia, without a word, opened her bag and began to remove needed items. She donned rubber gloves, glasses, and a paper mask. “I guess you can’t be too careful these days.” Thought Chris. Her flaxen hair rested with what seemed to be great weight onto the shoulders of her white sweater. Her navy slacks fit with such perfection that they could have been woven directly onto her exquisitely long legs. She moved with an amount of grace that Chris had only seen in teenage dreams of magazine cover girls. This woman was Victoria’s best kept secret. She glowed with a radiance that left Spieri punch drunk. Obviously finished with her initial preparation she cut her large hazel eyes toward him and tauntingly spoke.
“So, what seems to be the problem.”
Chris formed half a smile. “Where should I start.”
“Well maybe I should have a look a that leg first.”
The rain fell hard from the sky as if it was being sprayed from a pressure washer. Cold and thin it stung their necks as the three suited men rose from the open doors of the jet black Cadillac. Chris stood straight as possible and flattened the creases from his newly tailored three-piece. He examined the brick facade of Vincenzo's back office, located just one block from his own apartment on Carson Dr, and felt his stomach twist. Just two days before he was running coke for Franco. Now he was stepping out of Vicenzo's caddy on his way from the Concigliere's home, where he had slept and met the most beautiful woman. A woman he hoped to see again even if meant being pummeled once more. Arturo had his tailor prepare him a new suit finer than any clothing he had ever worn. Much nicer than the Michael Jordon half-tail he'd rented for his wedding.
He awoke to a italian breakfast casserole of tomatoes, onions, peppers, eggs and cheeses. At an arms reach just ahead of him was two of the family's hired guns, Jimmy the Suit and Dimes Malone. Riding with two known killers had made him wary at first, but why put him in such an obviously expensive garb just to destroy it with bullet holes and bloodstains. His fellow passengers and assured him the the meeting would be no big deal. They congratulated him on his initiation beating from the Russians and commented on their creativity.
"Bet those staples hurt like a bitch." Dimes had noted. Chris guaranteed that they did and tried not to relive the experience. They seemed nice enough but from their reputations he was glad that, at least today, they were on his side.
"You gonna stand there and keep the boss waiting'?" Jimmy quipped.
"Yeah, let's get the fuck outta this rain." Followed Dimes.
"Yeah....Yeah!" Chris yelled ahead and limply trotted to avoid an oncoming car.
"Don't worry Chris, you don't have to move for fuckers like that. No idiot within a hundred miles would dare run over a Peppellini boy." Dimes said as he held front entrance door and motioned Spieri through.
"No but they'd sure as hell knock you around a bit." Chris added as they continued up the creaky wooded stairs to the upper office.
"That's before you had a suit son, that's why they chose you. You were nothing more than a expendable hired hand. Things change rapidly in this world. Sometime faster than you would like." Dimes opened the door at the top of the stairs from which loud talking from booming voices could be heard. "Welcome to the top." Chris was about to step through the door when Jimmy grabbed his arm and pulled his ear close to his mouth. "Sometimes it's best to be invisible. Remember that while we're here."
They entered the high orange walled conference style room centered by a long wooden table. Chris was directed by Jimmy to sit on the modern brown leather, wooden armed, couch which sat under the massive windows now being pounded with fierce rain. He positioned himself between two nameless suits on the couch as Dimes and Jimmy took the only two seats left available at the table. He recognized the men sitting around the table as, Antonio, Franco, Vincenzo, Arturo, the Uncles, Jimmy, Dimes and few others he had yet to meet. Antonio stood from his chair at the end of the table, there was no chair at the other end, and raised a finger at Franco.
"What did you do to start this shit Franco?"
"Nothin' Pop...."
"Don't give me that shit Franc, you've always had a problem with the Russians. And I told you I didn't want anything to do with the selling of that poison. But, you convinced me that every thing would be O.K.. That you could handle it. Now you've gotten Johnny in trouble. And if you've allowed him to start doing that shit again it'll be your ass."
"He's still clean Pop, I promise. And besides, nobody has any authority over the Downs. Nothing gets sold in our territory and none of our good men are sent into that wasteland."
Chris knew just what his position was just a few day's earlier. He hoped that he was no longer that expendable. He continued to listen intently.
Antonio continued, "Vlasov has never pulled anything like this, kidnapping a made man, and damn near killing one our runners. This is an act of war and it's the last fucking thing we need right now, what with the Feds' noses being so far up my ass they can smell my kidneys.."
"I'm not so sure it was the Russians, sir." Chris blurted and immediately regretted. The room silenced and all eyes were suddenly on Spieri, including Jimmy who cut him a disapproving scowl.
"And who the fuck are you?" snapped the Don
"That's Chris Spieri, the kid they beat and stapled the note to." Franco announced wiping the sweat from his brow and sending evil piercing stare toward Chris. "He works for me and needs to learn when to keep his fuckin' trap shut!"
Arturo interjected "He stayed with me last night. He's a smart kid and I'd like to hear what he has to say."
Chris looked towards the Don and continued after given a reassuring nod.
"On the note where it says Zar Vlasov, is Zar a proper name, like a first or middle name?"
"It's the name for the highest in the Russian mafia, at least in this area, much like Don is so often used in the Italian Mafiosi. It represents their leader, Vlasov's first name is Ivanovich." Arturo answered quickly
"That's what I thought. Now I can only assume the origin of such a title but, I'm sure that it stems from the title of the Russian royalty. If this is the case it would never be spelled Z-A-R. The proper spelling is T-S-A-R. Anyone who was unfamiliar with this would think that it was spelled with a Z because of the beginning phonetic of the word. I would bet that the real perpetrators were not only non-russian but are also new to the profession, because of the fact that they didn't even research the people that they were trying to frame."
The room remained silent for what seemed like an eternity. Arturo broke the silence with a confirmation.
"He's right Tony. I should've notice myself, but he's right. And even if the Tsar did have someone under him write the note they only employ other Russians and they wouldn't have made that mistake."
"Put the word out that no one makes a move on the Russian until I say so." The Don spat orders at the men around the table. "Franco, get 3 or 4 good men out there asking questions. Find some fucking witnesses, somebody saw these assholes leave the building. Find out if Johnny made his pickup and where he was last seen. Arty call our Fed and Local payroll boys and find out what you can. And somebody get Vlasov on the phone in my office in ten minutes."
The men sat as if waiting for more.
"Get the fuck out there!"
All of the men sprang from there seats with the exception of Arturo who always moved at his own pace even in the presence of Antonio.
"Dimes and Jimmy find one good man each and stay close. You're likely to have work soon." Chris was making his way towards the door when the Don pointed a fat finger towards him. "You stick around son, we need to talk."
The car shook vigorously as they sped over the massive pot holes that revealed the old cobblestones from beneath. The roads were still wet from the day’s earlier storm and the high humidity only added to the summer heat. Puddle spray from the tires glistened with a prismatic effect in the head lights of the old Buick enhancing the surreal ness of the situation. Each thud and moan that came from just beyond the back seat made Chris more nervous. “The Suit” must have noticed and turned up the Miles Davis playing through the crackling car stereo. “A little wet-work interrogation.” Jimmy had described it. Spieri could only imagine what all this would entail. This type of work wasn’t exactly what he’d signed up for but, he was armpit deep in the shit now. Ask no questions, do what he’s told, and keep his ass alive was the major theme to his 5 year plan for now. Hopefully all of these tasks would become easier to perform as time progressed.
He had spent many hours in the Downs but, had never been to the abandoned warehouse district, a trash littered cesspool of condemned and crumbling brick buildings set near the river’s waterfront. Once a bustling center of manufacturing and distribution the area now only housed rats, pigeons, and the occasional homeless crack addict. Jimmy began to slow the car and seemed to examine each of the buildings along the alley.
“This’ll do just fine.” “The Suit” maneuvered the vehicle towards the loading dock of a free standing red brick warehouse and pulled slowly up the wooden ramp, driving directly through the open garage style door. The boards creaked and cracked under the massive weight of the Riviera. Chris began to worry that the old wood would not hold up. Jimmy continued to lurch forward without any signs of worry. Finally the front tires rolled over the peak of the ramp and onto the level boarded floor. Once completely inside Jimmy flicked on the car’s high beams, illuminating the musty interior. The car came to rest in the center of the huge room where he cut the engine, opened the door, and made his way to the back of the car. Chris followed Suit. Once at the rear of the car the thumping and moaning grew louder. Jimmy fumbled with the keys and quickly opened the trunk. The figure of a man, in a nearly fetal position, could be made out under the yellow haze of the trunk’s lid light. His hands and feet where taped limiting the man’s ability to move. He wore a bloodied white dress shirt, black slacks, and a gray gunny sack over his head. Instantly Jimmy’s newest mark began to thrash and groan. “The Suit” balled his fist and without delay punched him directly, in what Spieri could only assume was his left ear, through the gray cloth that covered his head and face.
“Shut the fuck up!” Jimmy exclaimed
“Shut the fuck up and be still!”
Chris pondered out loud inadvertently, “Who is this guy?” and suddenly realized that he had broken one of the main rules he had set for himself.
The rule must’ve not been very important to Jimmy when he answered. “Probably one of the guys that fucked you up.”
“How do you know that?” He had done it again. Chris knew he had better watch his step if wanted to pursue this job as a career.
“He was Taratello’s right hand man, Vino Donati. Mario Taratello was a small timer trying to ease in on some of Antonio’s profits. He let it slip that he’d had something to do with yours and Johnny’s dilemma earlier tonight when Dimes paid him a little visit. Now it’s time to get some info from this piece of shit. Maybe even a little revenge while we’re at it.”
“Are you sure he’s one of the guy’s that beat me down? Are you sure that he’s involved with Johnny’s disappearance?”
Jimmy reassured Chris “Well one can never be too sure, but we did find this in the back seat of his car.” “The Suit” reached deep into the blackness of the corner of the trunk and produced a silver carpentry staple gun. Chris found himself ready to beat the fucker.
“Help me get this guy out real quick.”
Without hesitation he reached into the trunk and grabbed Vino’s taped legs. They carried him over to the front of the car, directly in the cast of the headlights.
“OK, just drop him here.”
Spieri grimaced somewhat when he heard the man’s head smack the hard wood of the floor. Chris caught himself wanting to ask just what they had in store for this poor fool. He decided to wait and see for himself. Jimmy walked at his own pace back towards the car. He rummaged through the trunk and then introduced a black leather bag just like you see the “house call” doctors use in black and white films. He set it down on the floor near the mark’s head, opened it, and began to rummage through its contents
“My father was general practitioner doctor in a small town just outside the city limits.” “The Suit” explained as he laid the bags contents out onto the ground one by one. First he laid down a 12 inch long 1 inch diameter piece of white PVC pipe.
“You wouldn’t believe some of the things he removed from people’s bodies.”
Next he placed a 2 foot length of barb wire onto the boards just right of the pipe.
“Once he removed 26 rusty razor blades from a twenty year old woman’s stomach.”
He then emptied a small plastic bag of “U” nails.
“He removed over 10 pieces of silverware, forks, spoons, knives, and shit like that, more than $50 dollars worth of coins, and a 40 pound undeveloped twin from his patients.”
“The Suit” then placed, what must’ve been his final utensil, a hammer on the ground near Vino.
“OK, I’m gonna need your help. Just remember that everything that happens here is for the sake of Johnny and benefits the Peppellini’s, your employers. I know that you’ve probably never done anything like this and I don’t expect you to find this pleasant.”
Donati started to kick and roll after hearing their conversation. Jimmy smacked him once more hard against the cheek.”
“Stop it Vino. I’ll kill you. You know I will. You’ve got a good chance of walking away from this if you give me the information that I need. But either way I’m gonna have a little fun with you.”
Donati slowed his panic, though Chris was sure he was no less afraid. Jimmy donned a pair of rubber gloves he removed from the black doctor’s bag.
“You can’t be too careful these days.” He noted. Strangely this reminded Chris of Laeticia, the doctor who had patched him up and left such a warm impression on him. “The Suit” pulled a bottle of motor oil from the bag and opened it.
“What the fuck is he gonna do with that?” Spieri thought.
Jimmy poured about a quarter of its contents onto the PVC pipe laying below him. He then grabbed Vino and pressed his shoulders, face down, firmly against the ground. He squirmed a bit but, could not possibly fight the sheer power and weight that Jimmy possessed.
“Pull down his pants.” Suit ordered Chris. Chris thought about questioning the command and then thought again. He pinned the mark’s ankles against the ground with his knees and began to remove his pants. Jimmy picked up both the oiled pipe and the barb wire and climbed onto Vino’s back successfully pressing his body to the floor.
“Close your eyes if you like, this won’t be pretty.” Chris agreed and tightened his eyelids “It’s a lot like a colonoscopy. I’m inserting the lubricated pipe into the rectum about 10 inches.” Chris felt Vino try to move under his knees to no avail. He also moaned louder than he had all evening. “I’m now feeding the barb wire into the pipe.” His speech paused for a moment. “Now while holding the barb wire in place I’m removing the pipe. This leaves the barb wire in the colon where it will dig in and set root.” The thrashing and grunting became its most intense at this time. Chris heard a banging sound. “I’m now nailing the barb wire to the floor with the “U” nails. Help me set him up, I promise he won’t fight very much now, even the slightest movement will cause intense pain.” Spieri felt sick to his stomach. Even after what this guy had done to him he wondered if this wasn’t little too much. He helped to set Donati to a sitting position, which must’ve hurt him, and then opened his eyes. Jimmy pulled one last tool from the bag, a pair of bolt cutters. He then removed the gray sack from Vino’s head. His face showed signs of extreme pain and fear, also a few scrapes and bruises.
“OK, you’re in quite a predicament. The only way out is to use these cutters to cut the barb wire and walk to the hospital for a doctor to safely remove it. You could of course jump up and rip out your intestines in which case you’d bleed to death before making it out of this building. So, if you wanna live I’d suggest telling me everything I want to know.” Jimmy reached in his pocket and produced a small pocket knife and began to cut the tape from Vino’s feet and hands.
“Anything, Anything, Please!” Vino pleaded.
“Where’s Johnny?”
“In the basement at 616 Marshall.” Damn that was quick Chris thought, all things considered he would’ve told just as quickly.
“Who are you working for?”
“Mr. Vanaldi, that’s all I know, please give me the cutters, please.” Donati had begun to cry at this point and Spieri hoped that it would all end soon.
“That’s all you know huh?”
“Yes, please.”
“Well that’s good for you, cause that’s all I needed to know.”
“Can I have the cutters please?” Vino begged.
“Just a moment. Go ahead and get in the car Chris.” Jimmy directed before walking back to the trunk once more. As Spieri walked towards the passenger side he watched Jimmy “The Suit” close the trunk and walk back towards Vino carrying a glass jar of liquid. He dropped the cutters just a few feet outside of the marks reach and busted the the jar several feet behind Donati.
“What the fuck man, what are you doing? Is that gas, oh please, oh god, what the fuck, what the fuck?” Jimmy lit a match and held it up for the mark to see.
“Remember when I said you had a chance of walking away from this. You still do, but you only have a few seconds to do it.” Jimmy threw the match into the gas and walked to meet Chris in the the Buick.
“Please, Please, the cutters, I can’t reach them.” Vino exclaimed
“Better keep trying.”
Once back inside the car Chris exclaimed. “Holy Shit!”
“Yeah we’d better hurry. Don’t wanna get burned.”
As the Riviera backed out of the building and headed back out of the Downs where they would be expected to issue a full report, Chris watched the flames climb higher. “Another day’s work,” Chris thought “Just another day’s work”