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When Jordan received a phone call from Italia_Princess about robbing a casino the organized crime boss was in the middle of a meeting. The two men in her office appeared to be irritated about being interrupted when the leader answered the phone. Jordan didn’t care. Time was money. The men were wasting her time and by the sound of Italia’s plan she was going to make a lot of money.
“That old place? I didn’t know it was still open.” Jordan commented to Italia on the phone. “It’s not owned by friends of ours. I‘ll check it out and call you back later.” The crime boss hung up the phone and hoped the men in her office didn’t take up too much more of her valuable time.
“As I was saying, The Hitter is out of control.” The words were spoken by the New York Yankees Manager, Buddy Lewis. Next to him was the team owner, William Bailey. Although they ran the successful baseball team they depended on the mafia to solve their problems. Their current problem was the team’s famous homerun leader, The Yankee Hitter, Joe Russo.
“Jordan, since you told us to put that stuff in Joe’s water he’s been losing his temper a lot.” The manager complained. “The kid has a short fuse.” The stuff he was referring to was a concoction that made athletes stronger. When athletes were stronger they won more and when they won more bookies were busier. It was good business for the mobsters who controlled the bookies.
“Yesterday he had a tantrum in the locker room. He dented every God damn locker with a bat!” The team owner griped with a raspy voice that irritated Jordan. “He’s acting like one of your kind of people. I’m going to fire him and tell him to work for you if he likes acting like God damn lunatic!”
“My kind of people are not God damn lunatics!” Jordan responded sharply and opened a desk drawer. “We don’t use baseball bats and dent lockers. We use guns and get rid of people.” The Don took a gun out of the desk drawer and put it on the desk. “Let’s take a drive over the Brooklyn Bridge, Mr. Bailey.”
“Whoa… wait a minute!” The team owner stuttered and stared at the gun. “No need for that. I'm sorry, Jordan.”
“I’ll take care of Joe Russo’s problem.” Jordan told them and pointed at the door. “Now get the fuck out of my office.”
“I’m sorry.” William Bailey repeated as he stood up. “I didn’t mean any disrespect, Don. I’ll make it up to you. Tell your family about my casino…” He rambled on about free drinks and told the organized crime boss the name of the casino. Jordan only nodded in response to the offer and waited for them to leave her office.
Minutes later she picked up the phone. “Italia, take every penny from the casino and burn it to the ground if you want.” |