|
Ever since I was a young kid, I had been surrounded by crime in one way or another. It was kind of impossible to escape, given that I had been born into the largest crime syndicate in the city, a syndicate that had been going strong for the last 55 years. Taking advantage of the laws to reap the benefits of our bloodthirsty labor was the name of the job; that is, if you can apply such a label to something so illegitimate. Ever since the Great Depression had rolled in about six years ago, making ends meet had been increasingly more difficult. After all, it wasn't easy taking money that didn't exist. There was still one saving grace at the time though: The miracle of Prohibition. Thanks to the fact that the government had decided to outlaw booze in all its merry forms, the Stallano Mafia family had amassed capital greater than any other, selling booze to anyone who had a few dollars stuffed in their cufflink. It was a real important service, to tell the truth—After all, if you were swamped with a massive economic downturn, isn't remembering that you live in such a miserable world the last thing you want to do?
However though, it was now 1935, and Prohibition had effectively been ended. Just like that, the family's income had been slashed drastically. Although there was still money to be made from the sale of guns, cigars and marijuana, the revenue generated from the booze trade was valuable like none other. Somehow, we knew it needed to get it reinstated, or otherwise the business could go sinking down into the depths of hell. When I heard the plan for how we were going to do this, I honestly didn't believe they were for real. But then again, this is the Mafia; when it comes to stuff like this, there's no bullshitting around. The plan made me feel rather uneasy, the idea of kidnapping the Governor and his family, but I suppose there weren't a lot of options at this point. We could have always gone and protested the decision on Capitol Hill, but I imagine that wouldn't have been quite as effective; and to tell the truth, it wasn't really the Don's style either.
A single, dingy light bulb flickered to life as three of us descended the stairway down into the basement. One of them was Frederick Ramone, a fast talking sort of wise guy who wasn't quite as quick with his hands as he was his words, his hair dyed black to hide the shame he felt for having ginger locks. He thought no one could tell, but I'm sure I wasn't the only one who noticed the red fringe around the ends of his sideburns. The other man was Grace Durkin, a rather bulky man with a stout face, and build like that of a steel truck. My father often considered him his go-to guy, and it was easy to see why. Thanks to the difficulties of these hard economic times, there wasn't much in the way of security outside the governor's homestead, so you can probably imagine how easy it was to break in there, and steal away his wife and kids, not to mention the man himself, Mister George Howard Earle. Although we had been sure to put duct tape over their faces before carting them out of their estate, it was uncanny just how loud their screams still managed to be, the four of them tied up against the back wall in that dingy basement.
"God, isn't anyone ever gonna change that fuckin' lightbulb?" Fred asked to Grace as he passed under it.
"I'll get someone to do it eventually. Everyone usually just deals with it, so nothing ever gets done. I'll tell the boss later to handle it."
I remained silent as we approached their fidgeting bodies. To be honest, I was still sort of in shock that we had been able to pull off something as grand as this, minimal security notwithstanding. It was if we had been handed a golden goblet from the gods above, and I just had no idea how to handle it. I felt a tinge of sympathy for the man, as I knew it wasn't his fault that the Prohibition had been repealed, but I knew business was business, and to not go to any length to conduct it would be the real crime.
Knowing that they likely only had a few hours before someone was to wake up and discover the Governor missing, Fred decided to act quickly. With a frenzied pace, he was over by the Earles in three seconds flat, delivering a powerful slap to the Governor's face, and pressing a Magnum Revolver to his sweat-drenched temple, beginning to speak to him, but keeping the tape on as an insurance policy.
"So from what I understand, you already got a pretty good understanding of what's going on during the ride here, yes?" Fred asked Mr. Earle, eliciting a frantic nodding from the man himself. "See, in times caused by rich bureaucratic fucks like you, we haven't been getting much business as of late, except for one product." He said, as he slowly traced the tip of his revolver across the man's forehead.
"Now, you're a pretty decent looking guy Earle, and you have a pretty sharp looking family too. I wouldn't want any harm to come to my family, be it this one or the one I was born into; and being the bastion of fucking morals that you are, I'm sure you feel about the same." He smirked at him, and began to press the gun into his skull a little more forcefully. "As such, I trust that you wouldn't be so cold hearted as to put your family's lives second to this… Unjust law." Slowly, Frederick lowered his revolver from Earle's head, and slowly began tracing it up and down his wife's thigh, the magnum travelling in slow circles around her knee.
"So, here's what we're going to do. I'm going to give you an hour to think about this. And by the off chance there's any, failure for you to see things our way, then I'm afraid…" He remarked, as the gun slowly slid its way up to the terrified woman's head, "One of these bullets is going to be checking in here." He stared the Governor down, a look of pure terror filling his retinas, as Fred continued to speak. "And the same will go for your children, hour by hour, until you're just a pack of bodies floating down the Delaware River. Now, I'm going to take this duct tape off so you can delegate amongst yourselves, and if you so much as make a cry for help, my man Tate is going to, considerably speed up the triggerin' pullin' process," Fred said, gesturing to me, sitting on a milk crate just a couple yards away. "That clear?"
With a nod, Frederick smiled at the Governor, and quickly pulled the tape off his mouth, following suit with his wife. "I don't really trust the kids to be as well composed as you, so we're going to keep that tape on, if you don't mind." Still visibly shaken up, the Governor merely gave a silent nod, his bottom lip quivering and whole body shaking as the frightening figure hovered over him. "Good, glad to hear it." He said with a chuckle. "Now, I'm going to go upstairs, and come back down in an hour to hear what you have to say. And I really do hope you have good news for me, because it would just be such a shame to lodge a bullet in that pretty little head of yours," He said to his blonde haired wife, her strands running through Fred's fingers as he caressed the side of her cranium, before ceasing, and rising to walk back upstairs. "Just give me a holler if something goes wrong. I'll be back soon enough." And with that remark, Fred disappeared up the stairs, leaving only me crouched on the milk carton, and Grace standing watch as best he knew how.
Despite Fred's instructions, ended up being a rather silent, desolate place for the next fifty-five or so minutes. After all, weighing the possibility of someone's death with the very person at stake was bound to be an uncomfortable conversation all around. Although he didn't want to say it, the Governor found himself having a hell of a hard time separating his morals from his intrinsic love for his family. The governor had become well known for having a very loving home life, and for being a firm believer in doing as close as possible to the right thing. As I was nowhere near as intimidating as either Fred or Grace, I played no role in trying to sway the outcome one way or another.
"I don't know if you get this a lot, but you look a lot like the Don." I was surprised that the governor had chosen to speak up, but aware enough to realize that he was speaking about me. "You're not here by your own choice, are you? I swear, I feel like I've seen it far too often with my own eyes, good men forced to do despicable things because of their disposition. Why, I bet a lad like you could have gone to college or something, really made the most of your intelligence. At least, it sure as hell takes a smart person to run a syndicate like this one." I made no response to the man, but it's quite possible he wasn't looking for an answer.
"Look, I understand that it's been hard for your family ever since the economy crashed, but you have to realize that the alcohol industry is one of the things we need to get it back on track! Otherwise, who knows how much longer the recovery might take without it at our disposal?" As he spoke, I kept my head turned towards the pavement, the governor sighing as he paused. "You have to understand that, although I love my family more than anything, I have a duty to the people in this state. I understand that in these times, the last thing people want to do is remember that these times exist, but they're only going to be around for longer if we don't do something, and do something now. Do you understand at all?"
My eyes slowly turned back and forth as I processed everything he was saying, but I still chose not to respond, a pervasive silence still filling the room. By this point, it had just about been an hour, the sound of footsteps on the stairwell coming as no surprise as Ramone barreled down in his descent.
"Well, I sure hope you all had a real good chat while I was gone!" Fred hollered as he made his way downward, stepping onto the basement floor with bravado, gun shimmering in his hand. "So, what conclusion did we come to?" Finally breaking my silence, I turned my head to look at Fred.
"I don't know, you ask him."
"Sounds like a swell idea, Tate." Frederick remarked, as he made his way over to the Governor. As he paced over, I turned my attention to the stern figure standing watchful in the corner.
"Hey Grace, I think we got everything covered down here. Do you think you could finally take care of that lightbulb for us? It's been bugging the fuck out of me. And get a high watt bulb too, s'better for interrogations." With a nod, Grace broke his stance.
"Whatever you say, boss," He remarked, as he ascended the stairs into the pantry above, leaving only me, Fred, and the Earle family. Wasting no time, Fred pulled out his magnum once more, and quickly pressed it to the head of Earle's wife.
"So, care to tell me the conclusion you've reached here, my good man?" A visibly terrified look began to fill the Governor's eyes, sheer terror reflecting in his pupils as he eyed Ramone's trigger finger carefully, a good deal of sweat rolling noticeably off his brow. He was hesitant to respond. After all, how do you choose between something like that, your code of ethics, or the people you love? It was a shit corner to be backed into, and I certainly can't say I could wish it on anybody.
"Actually, Tate…" He said, casting a gaze at me. "How's about you do the honors here?" He remarked, extending his magnum to me. Having found myself in something of a trance, I was somewhat taken aback by this request. "Come on, I know you've never actually killed a man. I mean, it's not really my place to judge, but you gotta pop your killing cherry some time. Do the family name some honor, yeah?" Trying my best to stay composed, I looked at Ramone for a couple seconds, before rising to my feet, and taking the gun from his hand.
"Yeah, there we go. A true man, like your father raised." Although I had held a gun before, I never quite realized just how different it was to hold the barrel against the sweltering brow of another human being, than anything I had ever had experience with. Although I had certainly sit by and let hundreds of innocent lives be taken right in front of me, something didn't sit right about being the one to execute the command. I could feel my hand shaking slightly as the gun pressed into his wife's flesh, cool sweat droplets, forming around the end of the magnum as she stared back at me with a genuine look of fear.
"So Earle, I'll ask again—What's it going to be?" As Fred asked the question, I turned my gaze to the governor—I could tell in his eyes that he didn't want to decide, didn't want to have to choose between the well-being of several thousand strangers, and one he loved ever so dearly. They say life isn't fair, I knew that things didn't have to be like this. Although we had lost a considerable amount of revenue ever since Prohibition had been repealed, we hadn't been scrounging at table scraps for survival; hell, we were better off than most people, a fact I knew all too well. As Fred spoke, I took a cursory glance behind me to see if Grace had returned, before turning my attention back to the situation at hand. "Well? Answer me you fuck! Is your wife's life less important than a simple promise, you sad sack of shit? ANSWER ME!"
Finding my nerves becoming unbearable, I withdrew my hand from the temple of Ms. Earle's head, and quickly struck Ramone across the face, the hard steel giving the blow some extra force, as he fell back onto the floor with shock.
"Tate, what the fuck!" He yelled, a hand sliding across his cheek to feel the damage. However, it didn't take too long to collect himself, as within a second, he rose from his vulnerable state and quickly lunged at my frame, his hand going for my neck as I maintained my hold on the gun as best I could. A fury of grunts could be heard spilling from both our mouths as we spun about on the floor, our fists exchanging blows, anger searing from his face as he tried as best he could to get his revenge. I could feel myself gasping for breath as he tightened his grip around my airway, making it increasingly difficult to focus my efforts. Realizing that he very well might end my life, I swiftly pressed the gun to Fred's skull, and pulled the trigger without remorse, a loud banging sound resounding through the cellar as his body fell limp against me.
I lay there motionless for a moment as I tried my best to process what I had just done, my breath heavy, face frozen, as I stared up at the flickering light bulb above my head, unable to see the Governor's face as Ramone's body lay unmoving on top of mine. I truly hadn't meant for my actions to turn out in such a way, but it seemed the deed had been done, a cold stream of blood running over my fingers as I lay motionless, still. Despite it wasn't what I had intended, it seemed I had made my mind up over how this was going to play out. There was an intrinsic guilt I felt for slaying Fred, but I figured it wasn't as powerful a guilt as I would have felt with anyone else, given he could have choked my lights out if I hadn't done something. While there may have been a less fatal way to solve that nasty skirmish, it was too late to go back, no way to undo what I had just done. I wasn't entirely sure what I was going to do once Grace came back with that lightbulb, but it was more than evident at that point that I had to do everything I could to get the Governor and his family out of here, even if it meant sacrificing myself. Although the thought of such an idea would normally fill me with terror beyond my wildest dreams, I found that my inhibition towards death no longer existed, as I was no less undeserving of death than your average Death Row inmate—and that, to be frank, sat just fine with me.
|
