Philadelphia had been a miserable place recently, the depression was biting hard. Lines for the soup kitchen grew and unemployment stood at almost 25%. Furio had left Sicily to escape crushing poverty, for a better life, and yet he had seen more desperate poverty than ever before. Thankfully, Furio was a resourceful individual and had found a range of work with some other Italians. It was hardly legitimate but Furio didn't much fancy legitimate given the crushing deprivation and hunger.

However, it seemed that things might be about to change, at least partially, the Federal Government had announced a New Deal for the American people. Promises of funding and aid were made, including the founding of a new Public Works Administration who were promising large scale infrastructure projects across the United States. One of Furio's associates had heard of at least one of these coming to Philadelphia. What was even better was that a paisan of Furio's, a man of honor, knew a local official who had certain "proclivities and indiscretions". As a result of this, Furio's friend had given him a tip off. Although the money was Federal, the grants would be paid to private companies to administer and build the projects.

This had created an opportunity, there was still work to be done but opportunities must be grasped with both hands. Furio had made an appointment to see Ronan McCafferty at his Philadelphia office. McCafferty Construction was one of the biggest contractors in the industry but had recently fallen on hard times due to the depression.

As Furio opened the heavy wooden door, the cast iron handle scorched his palm, baked in the Philadelphia sun. Furio was impressed by the decor, he had not seen anything like it in the old country. A magnificent carved oak stair case dominated the centre of the lobby. Off to one side an austere looking middle aged woman sat behind a large mahogany desk, everything perfectly aligned.

"Can I help you?" The woman's tone was direct yet polite.

"Ciao, I am 'ere to see Mr. McCafferty" Furio's English was improving but it was still broken and his accent thick.

"Room 8" The lady motioned to the top of the stairs.

"Grazie"

As Furio rounded the top of the stairs, his eyes were immediately drawn to an ornate brass plaque, it gleamed in the sun flowing through the floor to ceiling window at the end of the corridor. "McCafferty" it read.

Furio swung open the door and was aghast to see a conventionally attractive young woman being bent over a polished Redwood desk whilst Ronan McCafferty pulled what could only be described as an awful face.

"What the fuck?!" The two quickly separated as McCafferty tried to put his weasel back in to his pants. "Don't they teach you people to knock, you fucking wop asshole."

This greatly irked Furio, Italians faced huge amounts of discrimination and were viewed as second class by many people but Furio tried to remain calm. There was too much money at stake and really he should have knocked.

"I am sorry, Mr McCafferty, we 'ad an appointment I did not expect you to 'ave company"

McCafferty had gone a spectacular shade of crimson and it looked like his head was going to explode but he seemed to regain his composure a little. The woman scampered out of the room, still trying to pull down her skirt. He gestured for Furio to sit down at the desk. As Furio pulled out the chair from beneath the desk he was impressed by it's quality. McCafferty poured himself a drink before sitting down, he took a sip before he spoke.

"So, what's this about?"

"A mutual friend 'as told me of a business opportunity and we are going to do it together. You..."

McCafferty put his hand up to cut Furio off.

"Firstly, I find it very difficult to believe we have any mutual friends, I play golf with the Mayor. Secondly, I will not be shaken down by some greasy, two bit hood."

This stronzo was really starting to rile Furio. He maintained his composure and turned out his palms to McCafferty.

"Mr. McCafferty, I mean no disrepect, I come to you 'as a friend, a business man. Our friend tell me that your government is going to spend one million dollars on new 'ousing for the poor. Dis new 'ousing needs to be built and I can 'elp you get the contract."

McCafferty's face returned to it's previous shade of crimson, a prominent vain bulged out of his neck as he spat.

"Are you fucking deaf you stu..."

Furio saw red, he pushed back against the table to stand. Picked up the chair and launched it through the floor to ceiling window. The glass shattered into a million pieces, punctuating the vitriolic rant that McCafferty was about to launch into. He had stopped mid-sentence. His facial expression changed like traffic lights: anger, surprise and finally, terror. Furio grabbed him by the lapels and dragged him over the desk. McCafferty tried to fend him off but his middle aged bloat, undoubtedly brought on by drink, rendered him helpless. In one fell swoop McCafferty was falling forwards towards the now vacant windowframe. He juddered to a halt as Furio caught his legs.

"Segaiolo! You fuckin' speak to me like dat, cornuto!" Furio turned and spat his disgust to one side. "I'll drop you on your fuckin' ead'"

In the torrent of fear and screaming it was difficult to make out what McCafferty was shouting but it sounded like his anger had entirely subsided. Furio thought he could make out sobs of 'sorry' but it was impossible to tell. Confident that he now had control of the situation, Furio dragged McCafferty back in to the room, swinging him around so that he landed on the floor a good few feet away, face down. Furio walked over to the redwood desk and picked up the decanter. He poured the golden spirit into the glass and placed it back on the desk. He then gestured for McCafferty to sit down. Ghost white and clearly drained of any resistance he stumbled back into his chair, clutching the freshly poured drink as if it was the nectar of life itself.

"So, this contract, it is worth one million dollars. I can get it for you but it is going to cost you money to do dis business. It will cost you $50,000 to get the contract, dis will cover my expenses. Then you will make a friend of mine your partner. This is the price of doing business."

McCafferty gulped down his drink, his hands still shaking. He realised argument was futile but he really didn't want to be in bed with the mob. Especially not the Italian mob. He had no idea who Furio was, maybe he's not with an actual outfit, he's certainly not a face, he thought. If he could get out of this meeting alive maybe his Irish friends, or even the Mayor, could help him. 

All of this is missing the point

I haven't had a single donation.  For every dollar given to me, I get double  which means YOU get paid back 

Furio pulled his Ford Model A over to the side of the street. He hadn't owned a car back home, they were too expensive and little of the infrastructure was suitable. This particular car was a 1930 model but Furio wasn't fussy. It had been 'acquired' by an acquaintance and with some clever pen strokes the police would have more luck finding the proverbial needle in a haystack.

He crossed the street and started to climb the stairs towards his apartment. He nodded to Mrs Scudello on the stairs, she worked as a seamstress at a local tailors. She often made alterations for him and in return he delivered her free food from his deli. He almost tripped on a childs toy car but managed to change his step at the last second. As he put the key into the door he felt a hand on his left shoulder and something wedged between his shoulder blades. His head was pushed hard against the door as someone wrenched his hands back and slapped on some cuffs.

"Inside ya wee fuck or I'll kill you where you stand" Furio couldn't place the accent but it certainly wasn't Italian.

He felt a hard shove in the back which propelled him forward into the living room. The assailant placed a hand on his shoulder, spun him around and kicked him in the back of the knee to deposit him on the floor. Looking up to examine his assailant he saw there were two of them. One of them was a tall man, pasty faced with freckles. He had a crop of short orange hair and was holding an enfield revolver. His accomplice had quickly bolted the door as he turned to face them. This man was shorter, stocky with dark hair. His eyes burned like they had the fire of the devil in them. Furio was angry that he had let this happen, it was a bad situation and was likely to end in death. The smaller man spoke.

"We're here on behalf of Mr. McCafferty, to represent his business interests. He tells us that you've made certain demands of him and that simply won't do. We work for Jimmy O'Leary and Mr. McCafferty is under his protection."

Jimmy O'Leary was a small time Irish hood from north Philadelphia. His cousin, Danny O'Leary had been a big time bootlegger in the 20's but somebody punched his ticket and his Jimmy had never managed to reach the same heights. Furio stared back at him wondering where this was going.There was little point in arguing.

"I don't know who you work for, you're clearly not a 'made guy' whatever the fuck that means, but I want you to take a message to your employer. McCafferty is off limits and if you go near him again, there will be serious consequences."

The ginger man lowered his gun as the two turned to leave.

"Actually, on second thoughts, we'll tell your man ourselves." The ginger man spun on his heels and strode forward pressing the gun against Furio's forehead. Furio closed his eyes out of reaction.

click

The gun didn't fire. Furio opened his eyes and saw the ginger man laughing, the gun wasn't loaded. He kicked Furio hard in the chest, flipping him on to his back.  He again retreated to the door and they both left, leaving Furio tied and stranded like a turtle. His heart was pounding. He was convinced, just a moment earlier that it was game over for him. His heart was beating so fast he could hear it. Thankfully he hadn't pissed his pants, but it wasn't far off. After a few moments of lying there he could feel his heart slowing down. He managed to roll up to his feet with the use of the sofa and made his way over to the door.

"Please 'elp me, Mrs Scudello can you 'ere me?" There was no reply, Furio rested his head against the door, trying to collect his thoughts. Maybe the window would be a better idea, he might be able to get somebodies attention. He shuffled back over to the window, using his head and neck to try and move the drapes. What a stupid position to be in. He managed to grip the drapes with his teeth and pull them over to one side. He could hear voices in the hall, followed by a knock at the door.

"Mr. Giunta, this is the Philadelphia Police Department. Can you open the door please."

"I 'ave my hands stuck behind my back, you will 'ave to kick the door"

The door jamb exploded into splinters as the door swung open, two police officers, guns drawn swooped into the room.

"I am okay you don't need guns, I am just stuck." Furio turned around so the officers could see his predicament.

"Your neighbour, Mrs Scudello called us, she thought you were in danger, could you tell me how you came to be in handcuffs please, Mr Giunta?"

There was no way Furio was explaining this to the police, 'oh yes officer, extortion gone wrong and I got mugged by Irish gangsters".

"I am practising the escape, you know like 'oudini, I lost my keys and I can't get out"

The officers looked extremely sceptical, they knew it was a lie, but what else could they do. They undid the cuffs. Furio rubbed his wrist as he felt the blood returning. Now he needed the cops out of his apartment.

"Thank you, Officer, very kind but I must be going now. I have work to do, I have to get to my deli. You should drop by, my staff give you the best food in Philly"

The officers looked sceptical but Furio thrust a business card in to each of their hands, wrapped in a $10 bill as he corralled them out of the door. He had to sort this mess out.

After Furio had collected his thoughts he left his apartment building and crossed the street to a public telephone. It's highly unlikely that he was important enouugh for the G-Men to be taking an interest, but it didn't hurt to get in to good habits.

If Furio could get this plan back in action he hoped it would go along way towards helping him become a full member of La Cosa Nostra. Of course, nothing was ever certain in this life, but this couldn't hurt. He started making calls to some local paisans, hoping they might be able to identify the two bastardos who had ambushed him. It seemed that these two guys were so off the radar that nobody recognised the description, even more embarrassing.

Furio walked a few doors down to his deli, legitimate business was good but if this deal came off, he was going to need another front to help launder his cash. Even the mighty Al Capone had been sent to prison just a few years ago, once untouchable he was not rotting in Alcatraz. Furio was determined to not to suffer the same fate. He sent his delivery boy with a note to deliver to a friendly policeman. He also made enquiries with the local dealers. Surely some of the local junkies would recognise the description. For now though there were other matters to attend to. Furio went into his stores out back of the deli, he needed fuel for the car. After topping up the tank he put the jerry can in the trunk. He started her up and headed for McCafferty construction.

As he made his way out of the Old City District he saw Brian Stevenson walking down the street carrying a new gramophone. Not an unusual site in this part of town. The main problem was that Brian had been ducking Furio for the last couple of weeks. Brian was a degenerate gambler who would bet on who could piss the furthest, if someone would give him odds. By the time Furio realised, he had already driven past so he circled around the block and stopped further up the street, waiting for Brian to pass by. As Brian got level with the car, Furio leapt out and shoved him hard into the wall. Brian collapsed into a heap barely propped against a hardware shop doorway. Furio stuck the boot in, to ensure he had Brian's attention.

"Eh, you fuck, where's my fuckin' money? You owe me $700"

"Furio, I'm sorry man, I'm really sorry, I'm deep in the hole he.." Furio stuck the boot in again.

"I don't ask your life story, give me my money"

Brian gasped desperately for air as he convulsed on the floor like a dying animal. After a few seconds he managed to catch his breath.

"I had the money but Frank Sullivan was putting on a game, we we're supposed to stitch the other guys up and then Frank was going to wipe my debt. It was real high roller stuff, $1,000 to sit in. But that ginger fuck crossed me"

Again Furio lashed out, this time with his fist. Brian's nose exploded in a flash of red.

"I don't care, give me... wait, you say ginger?"

Brian was crying now, blood flowed down his face and made it difficult to understand his speech.

"Yeah, Frank Sullivan, he runs card games out of the back of a flower shop in North Philly."

This sounded promising although a lot of these Irish fucks had ginger hair, he'd pass this tip along to one of the local cops and get them to check it out. Furio was snapped back to reality by Brian's whimpering.

"Take the record player, it's yours, put it towards my debt"

"Why the fuck I want a record player? I don't 'ave any records! I add the interest to your debt, you owe me $735 dollars now you fuck! You don't pay and I'll come back and shove that record player up your ass!"

Brian was never going to repay the debt, his gambling habit would make sure of that but Furio would be able to juice him for the rest of his natural life. Ever since prohibition had ended, new revenue streams were required. Speaking of which, Furio needed to get moving. McCafferty would be leaving his office soon.

"Ah fuck it, I take your stupid record player but it doesn't come off your debt. My lady, she will like this."

Furio loaded the gramophone into the car before starting up the engine and heading for McCafferty Construction.

Furio had been sitting on McCafferty for a couple of days. Watching him come and go from work, observing his routine. He largely travelled between his home, office, diner and his mistresses' place. He seemed to meet contractors in the diner but interestingly they seemed to be paying him rather than the other way round. There was clearly some sort of angle here that Furio had not considered.

Through an acquaintance with the unions Furio had learned that McCafferty was taking pay offs to get jobs on the new government contract coming down. McCafferty had clearly believed the shit about being under Jimmy O'Leary's protection. Wasted money as he was about to find out. Furio had taken up a spot in the diner behind McCafferty's usual booth. He sat reading the newspaper, two jockeys had been suspended for whipping each other during the Kentucky Derby, quite the spectacle. Brokers Tip had won by a nose and the bookies had made a huge amount of money. A very successful weekend.

From listening into the conversations behind him Furio had learned that McCafferty was taking kickbacks from carpeneters, ground workers, fabricators, just about every trade on the prospective job site. McCafferty was a smart operator, Furio couldn't deny that. There was a killing to be made and Furio intended to wrestle back control. After McCafferty finished with his meetings he headed towards the door, Furio followed him closely, pulling out a snub nose .38 and placing it firmly into his ribs just as they stepped out of the restaurant. A LaSalle 345 pulled up directly in front of them and the rear door swung open. Johnny 'Lips' Verdetti was already in the back. Lips was a small time player but was quickly becoming a rising star. Furio jabbed the gun forwards slightly.

"Get in."

The car set off through the streets of Philly heading towards McCafferty construction. Furio could have walked straight in but intercepting McCafferty and going back after office hours allowed a much greater degree of freedom and less chance of any surprises waiting for him.

"Come on now fellas, what is this about? We're all friends here, we can be reasonable." McCafferty sounded on edge, unsurprising given that he'd just been abducted at gun point by a man who had previously dangled him out of a window.

"I tried to be your friend, but you send men to my 'ouse, you disrespect me and you try to do business without me."

"Hey look, that was all a misunderstanding. I just mentioned it to Jimmy, I can't be held responsible for him." McCafferty sounded panicked now.

After around 15 minutes, they pulled around back of the McCafferty construction offices. Lips pulled some keys from McCafferty's pocket and went to open the back door. Furio ushered McCafferty out of the car and up the stairs to his office. The building was deserted, Furio felt the silence would be conducive to business negotiations. Furio used his gun to gesture towards an office chair. McCafferty sat down nervously. Furio walked over to the corner of the room and opened a large floor cabinet revealing a safe.

"You are going to open dis safe and pay the the $50,000 and then we are going to do business together."

"Look, Mr..."

"Furio"

"Mr. Furio I don't have $50,000..." Furio put his hand up to cut McCafferty off

"It just Furio you fuck, you call and you get the money or I am going to set fire to you" Lips made a dramatic entrance carrying a jerry can full of gas.

Furio saw McCafferty's legs twitching, the classic fight or flight response. There was no running from this.

"Look, please, just stop this."

Furio took the cap off the jerry can and started to raise the can. The smell of gasoline filled the room, stinging the nostrils.

"Give me the code you porca puttana." Furio began to pour the gas over McCafferty as he broke out into tears.

"Look, I can't give you the money, it belongs to Jimmy O'Leary, please just stop."

"You think I give a shit about that sfigato? Is he 'ere now? I'm going to burn you alive." Furio took a lighter from his pocket and popped a flame.

"NO, NO, PLEASE! I'll give you the code, please, don't kill me. The code is 22-03-54. Please, please stop this."  Furio extinguished the flame as Johnny Lips moved over towards the safe.

The safe gave a loud clunk as the mechanism released, the door swung open.

"Amazzo!" Furio couldn't believe his eyes.

There must have been $200,000 in the safe. Jimmy O'Leary was going to be pissed.

Two weeks had passed since Furio and Johnny Lips had liberated the contents of McCafferty's safe. They had split the money 50/50, $110,000 each. Furio had kept $60,000 and kicked the rest upstairs. In this life you had to be a good earner if you wanted to get very far and as a recently inducted member of the family, he had to set an example for the associates.

Upon hearing what had happened, Jimmy O'Leary flipped his shit, one of his associates had set Furio's apartment on fire, but he hadn't been staying there in anticipation of retaliation. The North Side Gang were a relatively small outfit but Furio couldn't afford for this to become a protracted conflict. Gang warfare would have a negative impact on the business and hurt the bottom line.

In order to discourage further actions and to fully impress upon O'Leary the precarity of his situation, Furio had carried out swift and brutal reprisals. Furio and Johnny Lips had torched an Irish bar frequented by Frank Sullivan. Furio had also had associates relieve a score of bookies of their takings, including Patrick O'Banion who ran the numbers racket in the Irish neighbourhoods of Kensington and Fishtown.

O'Leary had responded by sending the ginger stronzo, Frank Sullivan and his accomplice to try and clip Johnny Lips, he took a bullet in the leg but the Irish boys had ran when some of the paisans returned fire. Lips would survive but Furio realised that this conflict had to be brought to an end.

He had sent an emissary to make overtures to the North Siders and offer them a sit down. It had been arranged to take place on neutral ground at the Bellvue-Stratford hotel.

The meeting room was exquisite. Mahogany panelled walls were illuminated by overhead crystal chandeliers. A single decanter sat upon a silver tray. The meeting table was a small circle, a chair on each side. Associates of Furio and O'Leary had chairs set back on either side. They wouldn't take place in the discussion directly. A waiter poured drinks for the attendees before retiring through a side door.

As the parties sat down around the table there was a tension in the air. It was an unspoken rule that there could be no violence at a sitdown, but these weren't Sicilians and Furio didn't trust them. O'Leary was the first to speak, his faced screwed into a scowl of utter contempt.

"I want my fucking money back, you've had nearly $400,000 and I want it back right fucking now!" O'Leary was clenching his fists so hard his knuckles had turned ash white.

Furio took a measured drink from his glass. He didn't want to be inflammatory but he was in no mood to negotiate. In truth O'Leary's gang could be easily wiped out but they had the respect of the local Irish-Americans and therefore it might be more beneficial, for financial reasons, to make them junior partners. Furio placed the glass down on the table.

"Listen to me now, your money is gone but you 'ave an opportunity to make more money if you are smart. I will let you keep your numbers, your protection, even your dealers. You give me 30% of everything you take. You get to keep the rest."

O'Leary must have blinked about twelve times in about four seconds. He was utterly stunned by the brazen, nonsensical statement he had just heard. He had never understood the obsession with paying tribute and bullshit hierarchies that the Italians used.

"I don't work for you and neither does my gang, you're getting jack shit. You give me back my money and stay out of my turf or it's all out war.

"I'm giving you a chance 'ere. You get to keep earning, you get to keep your territory. Peace between our crews, no more bloodshed. I'll even change my offer, 20% to me. Be reasonable"

O'Leary shook his head as he stood up.

"Reasonable, fucking reasonable? You stole from me. I'm Jimmy Fuckin O'Leary. We are done here, I'm not listening to this dumb ginzo shit anymore. I told you my terms. If I don't have my money back by the end of the day, then it's all out war. No more talking, no more pussy sit downs. War."

O'Leary and his bodyguards stormed out. Furio knew what had to be done, business would have to suffer.