Accidental Mobster (12 page)

“We've got to get out!” I whisper, panicked by the crunching steps behind us. I can barely see the way out.

“No, it's too late,” Reggie answers. He grabs my arm and pushes me to the left. I muffle my own cry of pain as a wooden crate smashes into my shin, and Reggie almost topples over another crate as we hurry to get out of the man's path. I think we will run into a wall very quickly, but instead, we manage to stumble through a narrow doorway and into a very small bathroom, as I find out when my hip bumps a sink. Reggie starts to close the door, but stops when it lets out a high-pitched squeak. We stand motionless in the bathroom, waiting for the man to enter and hoping that, somehow, he will not see us standing here.

My eyes adjust to the darkness just as the man reenters the building. He flips the light switch and closes the door, and I know that Reggie and I are completely visible now, even though the bathroom is to the side of what I can see is a half-empty storage room. But the man must have had a little too much to drink, because he stumbles over the same crate that I struck with my shin only a few seconds before. The man swears and continues to the next door, which creaks with age as he opens it and exits the storage room, killing the lights behind him.

I stand still while my eyes readjust to the darkness. Reggie is moving around beside me.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, trying to decide whether we should attempt to follow the man through the next door.

“Look!” Reggie whispers, while climbing onto the toilet lid. I follow his pointing finger upward, where a small grated window is letting in a few pinpricks of light. I return to the storage room and feel around for the crate that injured me a few minutes before. I drag it to the toilet and stand next to Reggie, our heads practically touching as we peer through the tiny slits into the lighted room beyond.

I know immediately that I am lucky not to have followed the man through the other door, because it leads directly into a large room filled with men. Reggie takes a sharp breath, even as my own body tenses with fear at having only a wall between us and what probably is a room packed with Mafia wiseguys. They are counting money and are arranged in a loose circle around a large, imposing man with a bald head and horn-rimmed glasses, seated at the center of the activity. The room is smoky, and I'm having trouble getting a good view from between the slats.

I scan the room for Gino, hoping that maybe I'm wrong and Gino isn't associated with these men.

Reggie elbows me. “Which one is Gino?” he asks so softly that I can barely hear him. I shake my head. “I can't find him.”

“So should we stay put or get out of here?”

I can hear the anxiousness in Reggie's voice, but I'm reluctant to leave. I've been lucky to get this far without being discovered and am curious about what is going on in this diner. I have a pretty good idea that these men are not doing good things, but I don't know that for sure. The only act of violence I've witnessed so far was from Frank the other night. I stay rooted to my crate, and Reggie waits silently beside me.

I struggle to pick out any specific words from the various conversations flowing around the room. Reggie shifts uneasily, so I am just about to step off the crate and tell him we can go when the front door of the diner opens. Standing in the door frame are Frank and Gino, and between them they hold a thin, older Asian man, who appears terrified, yet defiant, as he is held captive.

The hefty bald man turns in his seat as Gino and Frank enter. The frown spanning his thick facial features deepens as he sees their hostage. The room falls silent; Reggie and I barely breathe.

“Ray, this is Chen,” Gino tells the bald man as he pulls the older man toward him. Ray sits quietly for several long moments staring at Chen, who glares boldly back.

“I am tired of your threats,” Chen says, a slight tremor in his voice. “I don't want you involved in my business! I won't pay your outrageous extortion, Mister Gallo!”

Gino shoves Chen down into a chair. “Shut up!”

I'm surprised by the name Chen just said. That name is all too familiar to me now. I study Ray Gallo closely, looking for any resemblance to Tommy Gallo. With Ray Gallo's heavy features, I have trouble seeing much similarity, and yet, Ray and Tommy definitely possess the same cruel twist to their mouths.

“Who is this again?” Ray asks Gino in a deep, gravelly voice, motioning to Frank.

“Frank Moretti,
a friend of mine,
” Gino says meaningfully. “He's been working in the area for a while now. He's got some connections that have been really helpful.”

Ray nods and turns his attention back to Chen. Chen continues to sit still, but as I watch him more closely, I notice a trickle of blood coming from Chen's upper lip. I don't want to think that Gino may have beaten this man or even allowed Frank to do it. I still can't believe that Gino, the man who has been so kind to me in my hour of need, the man who rescued me from the clutches of Barb Kluwer, could treat others so brutally. Surely this man Chen must have done something awful, right? Hadn't Iggy been about to kill someone else? Perhaps Gino simply keeps bad men from doing bad things. If so, Gino's rough treatment of Iggy, and now Chen, would be justified.

Reggie tugs on my sleeve and points at Gino. I nod, knowing my friend is trying to identify my godfather.

Ray turns slowly to Gino, ignoring the rebellious glare of his captive. “Where's Capriotti?” Ray asks. He points at a large man standing nearby. “Donny there said you told him nine-thirty.”

Yes, you did say nine-thirty
, I think, giving myself credit for being right about that. I want to see if this Capriotti guy is actually the district attorney that Reggie had mentioned. Gino shakes his head. “Frank said Capriotti won't be coming. Apparently Capriotti thinks it is too ‘compromising.' His words, not mine. I think he's just a chicken.”

Ray nods and again eyes Chen like cornered prey. “So you bring me this bony, washedup businessman instead? Why the hell would you expose me to this riffraff? You need the underboss to help you do your job or something?”

Gino scowls. “He hasn't paid in three weeks. But he said he might bargain with you.”

Ray glares at Chen. “The bargain is this – if you don't pay, we'll let our virus wreak havoc on your computers.”

Chen smirks. “That's the point. I'm not afraid of your weak, ineffective viruses. I only said I would bargain so I could tell this to your face!”

Ray's eyes narrow, and he turns to Gino. “This fool is playing you. Is he really immune to the virus?”

“Yes, last week we breached his firewall but were unable to release the virus onto his system. He's got someone at his company who knows this thing better than our guys. I don't know how, but his system is stronger than our virus.”

“That so?” Ray asks, not particularly interested in a reply. He strokes his wide chin with thick fingers. “So Mister Chen believes he is invincible.”

Chen lifts his head proudly. “My system is very strong, perhaps indestructible! I do not need to pay your outrageous price to maintain my network. You cannot touch it!”

Ray doesn't reply, but he nods to two men beside him. Gino and Frank take a step back as Donny and another man pick Chen up out of his chair and throw him to the floor. They proceed to kick him, then they lift him from the floor, and Donny holds Chen as the other man punches him twice. Chen is on the verge of passing out, his face bloody. He is still gasping from the violent kicks that were delivered to his stomach. Reggie glances at me helplessly, but we can't do anything to stop the violence. Or can we? I can't think of anything that would not put our lives in danger. I glance at Gino, willing my godfather to put an end to the undeserved beating. I think Gino looks uncomfortable, but he does nothing. However, Gino's associate Frank seems even more upset, and he finally says, “Look, if you guys beat him to death, we'll never get our money!”

Ray glares at Frank for questioning his authority, but he finally motions for his men to stop beating Chen. “See, Mister Chen,” Ray says, chuckling at the man's misfortune. “We may not be able to touch your network, but we can touch you. And we can get to your family too. You have kids, yes?”

Chen is conscious, but barely. Yet, his eyes widen at the mention of his family.

“Well,” Ray continues, “I would recommend that you pay your fees, or your children may get a taste of the fun you're having this evening.”

Donny starts to again pummel Chen, and I don't think the older man can stay conscious much longer. Why won't they stop? How can they continue to beat this frail man without killing him? Frank moves forward as if to say something, but another guy holds him back. I look at Reggie again. We must do something. “Go to the car and get out of here,” I whisper.

“You want to leave now? While they're distracted? What about that man?”

“No, I want you to go get in your car and get out of here now. Make as much noise as you can. Just don't let them see you or your license plate.”

Reggie doesn't budge. “By myself? No! What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to stop that beating and then hide. So I need them to think that anyone who was here is getting away in your car. You'll keep them from looking for me.”

“No way. It's too dangerous for you to stay!”

“I have to, Reggie. The best way to protect both of us is for you to go and for me to hide. I can get home once they all leave.” I glance through the slats at the beating still taking place—was Chen even conscious now? “Otherwise, they may kill him.”

Reggie nods. “Okay.”

“Now.”

“Now?”

“Now!” I say, almost too loudly.

Reggie scrambles off the crate, trying to make as little noise as possible. I know the men in the diner are distracted and have little chance of hearing Reggie's movement. Reggie pauses before he leaves the bathroom. “Do you want me to call the police?”

I glance back through the grate at Gino, disbelieving my desire to protect him. “No. No, I don't.”

Reggie pauses, as if wanting to argue with me, but then he turns and hurries toward the door.

I wait several seconds after Reggie leaves; I want to ensure that he gets safely to his car. I want Reggie to escape, but I also need him to distract these men if I'm going to be able to hide safely. When I feel I can wait no longer, I grab a half empty metal paint can and throw it as hard as I can against the door leading to the diner.

I know I have only a few seconds to get into the bathroom and behind the door before a dozen or so mobsters are headed into the storage room, ready to beat—or maybe even kill—

anyone who has been spying on their activities. If I timed things correctly, Reggie will be rolling out of the parking lot momentarily, making the men think that whoever made the commotion is getting away. Reggie is in as much danger as I am, but separating was the only way we could stop the beating and have the best chance of escape. I slam the back door to the diner for effect and then speed into the bathroom, but I forget about the crate that I moved. As I trip over it again, I feel the hard wooden edge slice across my shin. I let out a silent howl, feeling sure that the splintered wood has drawn blood this time, and clamber behind the flimsy wooden door. I'm desperately hoping that somehow, my foolish scheme will work.

I flatten myself against the wall as the door leading into the diner bursts open, big, angry men streaming through it, their faces alarmed. One stops to pick up the paint can sitting on the floor, but the rest race toward the back door. I'm sure someone will see me—my heavy breathing thunders in my ears as sweat trickles down my legs, which are shaking from the pain and adrenalin coursing through my body.

Reggie's timing couldn't have been more perfect. Just as the men begin stumbling through the back door, I hear the unmistakable rumble from the beetle's old muffler as Reggie speeds over the gravel out of the parking lot. The men are frantic in their haste to get outside, knowing their spy might be escaping. I hear car doors slamming and motors revving as the men take off after Reggie, and I hope that for just this once, the beetle won't break down. Suddenly, I wonder whether Reggie's job is more dangerous than mine. I know I must get out of the diner as quickly as possible, but I can't be sure that everyone has left. I'm glad for my hesitation when three more men walk through the interior door into the back room: Frank, Gino, and Ray.

“What was that?” Ray asks, cursing under his breath.

Gino shrugs and shakes his head, his face worried.

“How could this person get in?” Ray snaps, infuriated. “This door locks from the inside!”

“I don't know,” Gino answers unhelpfully. “But a lot of guys go out to grab a cigarette or take a pee, since the toilet doesn't work.”

I freeze as Gino mentions the bathroom, knowing that any of the three might glance involuntarily at the room.

“Well, they had better catch him,” Ray replies, his tone threatening. “I'm not coming down here anymore if my identity can't be protected. In fact, I shouldn't be seen with half the people who were in that room!”

Gino nods. “I know. I feel the same way.” He motions to the door leading into the diner.

“I'm going to take Chen home. You coming, Frank?”

Frank is staring at the back door. “In a minute. I'll meet you outside.”

Gino and Ray retreat into the diner, Ray mumbling about the danger they are all in. I watch Frank through the small slit between the door and the wall that I'm pressed up against, wondering why the younger man doesn't follow the others back into the diner. I need Frank to leave so I can escape.

As soon as the door closes, Frank turns toward the bathroom, his eyes on the crate that I tripped over in my hurry to get behind the door. I look at the crate, which is to my left, and my heart almost stops at the sight of it. In the spot where I hit my shin, blood is streaked across the wood. Will Frank realize that it's blood? I stand motionless, too afraid to breathe. Frank moves toward the bathroom, switches on the light, and crouches down to examine the crate. He is only a foot away from me now, and he would only need to turn slightly to his left to see me. After a moment, Frank stands up, his eyes leaving the crate and shifting to the dirt from Reggie's shoe that litters the toilet lid. Then he turns to his left and swings back the squeaking door behind which I'm hiding. And in that moment, I am face to face with one of Ray Gallo's mobsters, staring into the eyes of a man who is sure to beat the living daylights out of me, if he doesn't kill me first.