The envelope packed with bills sat on Benny’s table all night. He couldn’t sleep, whenever he shut his eyes it was almost instantaneous that they were open once more and he was staring back at his ‘gift’ from Marco Ricci. Twenty-four hours ago he’d arrived in New York, three bucks to his name. Now he’d met a powerful businessman, had a job opportunity. But why? How had this luck found its way to Benny so quickly? It continued to puzzle him.

Since arriving in Queens and waking from his resident lodge. Benny felt a different emotion; not felt for a long time. Maybe never. The feeling was purpose. He felt now that he belonged, to New York, to America. It had embraced him so quickly; so effortlessly. He felt a debt for the opportunities that found their way to him – that’s for sure. No longer would he aimlessly walk the streets, refusing to contact-eyes with the wrong guy and find himself jumped, mugged and left for dead in a gutter. He now had somewhere to be, for Marco was expecting him after all.

The morning dew dripped down the window, the air was once again cold, it bit – and it bit hard as Benny took in every breath. The light fog still hid many of the buildings distant features. The skyline was barely visible. But the hustle and bustle was there once more. All the workers were awake, the city was alive once more. Benny made his way down to the waterfront once more – all the men followed like a conveyor belt of manual labour. Every men was chasing their next pay check. There was no future for them; they lived from one wage packet to the next. Benny wanted more; he’d convinced himself that his destiny demanded it from him. He wasn’t chasing money; nor survival. He was chasing the American dream.

As he arrived at RICCI IMPORTS & DISTRIBUTION CORP; Benny noticed that it looked far different during the day. If anything – it looked larger. How was that even possible? Last night it felt like Benny was walking around the warehouse all fucking night. Yet once again he was standing in front of it; and he felt tiny, so insignificant. The workers had already started, the trucks were already in the depot – waiting to be loaded with goods. Even now – the whole operation looked completely legitimate. It was daytime after all. Anyone could see what was happening - right? But Benny couldn’t get that thought out his mind from last night – the missing crates.

Twenty-four on the inventory.

Twenty-seven loaded on the truck.

Three crates that were invisible, where did they go? Benny pushed the thought out his mind, at this point he had more important things to concern himself over. His second meeting with Marco.

As Benny began to walk around the warehouse floor once more, it felt so alive. The forklift operators were whizzing up-and-down the aisles. The workman were shouting inventory distribution lists to each other. The upstairs swanky offices that Benny saw the previous evening were far louder today. They had executives working – their telephones ringing off the hook. This entire operation was military grade. No worker had a moment of down time; everyone was doing something. Each playing a small piece of the puzzle, a cog in the wheel. Benny felt out of place, just standing around and observing this behaviour. At such point a clerk approached Benny.

“Hey there – you lost stranger?”

Benny shook his head – “I’m not – no.”

Bemusement across his face “You sure stranger? Never seen you here before, what’s your business?”

“I’m looking for Marco, Marco Ricci.”

The clerks eyebrows raised instantaneously. “You’re looking for Mr Ricci?”

Benny pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, lit it. Took a large inhale, looked the clerk straight in the eyeballs “that’s what I said.”

“Second floor.” – and with that he made his excuses and went back to the rear of the warehouse.

Benny headed upstairs once more, these surroundings looked more familiar. He paid much closer attention last night when he was with Paddy. He knew the way. There were several workers that glanced in Benny’s direction as he passed them by, some totally ignored him. Others curious. But one thing Benny knew, none were going to be friendly towards him. Benny could smell the familiar cigar smoke in the air upstairs. He knocked on Marco’s office door and subtly walked in.

“You’re early, Benny.”

“You knew it was me?” Benny stopped in his tracks.

“Kid, I never forget the sound of footsteps for a young, upcoming whipper-snapper!” He smiled.

Marco sat his papers aside once again and invited Benny to sit down, the same chair he’d sat in only twelve hours previously. Marco observed once more, not in an intimidating way, Benny could tell Marco was curious by nature. He was just sizing up the conversation and how it was going to land.

“So, Benny – how did you sleep?”

This was strange, Marco was showing concern over Benny. They’d only just met once; and not even for that long. After a slight pause due to shock and surprise. Benny replied “Not the best of nights. I’m staying in the Lodge at Fourth avenue. If you’ve ever had the privilege of such hospitality. You wouldn’t be sleeping either.” He let out a wry smile.

Marco opened his desks top draw and pulled out a small notebook. He placed it on the desk between himself & Benny. He looked at it and scowled.

“What’s that Marco?”

“A test Benny; just a test.”

“Sorry Marco – I thought I was coming today to report for work. To be shown around the warehouse floor. I’ve got no problem’s getting stuck in. More than happy too.”

Marco shook his head. “No Benny, you are here for work. But you’re not going to be anywhere near the floor. This is your work. For now anyway, I need to assess where you’ll fit in at RICCI IMPORTS” He pushed the notebook in Benny’s direction.

Benny picked up the notebook and started to flick through the pages. “So? What am I looking at here?”

“A problem Benny, just a problem. One of several actually.”

At first glance, it just looked like a ordinary book keepers log; but it wasn’t long until Benny picked up on something. There were several entries that didn’t add up – not at all. They’d been crossed out, written over. Dates weren’t adding up, not even matching. One’s crossed over and turned into sevens. Benny sat back in the chair and took it all in. None of these figures added up; they made no sense. Entire shipments were lost, no logs, no end destinations. But twelve pages later – suddenly reappeared again. This was all rather confusing. Ten minutes passed, then twenty. Benny completely audited this notebook as Marco looked on, smoking his cigar.

Eventually, Benny closed the notebook and placed it back on the desk. “Marco – this doesn’t add up, your books aren’t balancing. These records have been altered in all the wrong places. Someone’s changed them”

“And what makes you say that? Benny?”

Benny paused, but only had one word to answer the question. “Handwriting. Whoever did this is no accountant. I can tell you that.” Benny opened one page of the notebook before pointing down. “Look here, this shipment should be labelled Tuesday, it’s Thursday.”

For the first time, Marco seemed to be impressed by Benny’s observation. His eyes narrowed onto Benny. “Do you notice anything else?”

“Yes, look here.” Benny flicked to another page. “Ones have been struck through and turned into sevens. All of these markings are the creation of one manipulator.” These were really simple markings. Easy to miss. Yet Benny picked them up; he picked up on them all.

Marco lent back on his chair. “Interesting Benny, very interesting. You spotted things I’d missed and I’ve been looking at this journal all fucking week!” Benny shrugged. “It wasn’t hard Marco”

“For the three other people that have cast eyes over this book; I can share that it was.”

Marco got out of his chair and walked over to the window overlooking the warehouse floor. Below him there were dozens of workers all carrying on their daily routine operations. Some were loading, others moving; shipping. Benny stood next to Marco looking down; realising maybe his observations were a gift. None of these guys downstairs would of spotted these errors. Hell; most couldn’t even read or write.

“So Benny, tell me something will you?”

“Sure Marco – what is it?”

“Exactly what do you think this company does?”

“Easy” quipped Benny – “Imports”

Marco laughed, “obviously – what else?”

Benny coughed into his hand, “Distribution”

Marco howled with laughter. “Kid – I love your sense of humour. You can read the fucking sign on the front, well done.”

“Ask a question, I will answer the question.”

“Fair enough Benny; fair enough. You know, a lot of people think they know power. What it looks like; what it feels like. They have no fucking idea. They think it looks like murder, violence, deceit, how much heat you have from the law.” Marco pointed out the window to the city beyond the waterfront. “They’re wrong, they’re all wrong.” Marco sat back down at his desk, picked up the notebook and tapped it gently. “This – is power.” Benny sat in silence. “A man who understands numbers, doesn’t just understand that. They understand people too.” He referred to secrets, leverage on others. Reading subtle body language.

Marco looked at Benny. “I think I’ve found your place kid.”

“And what place is that Marco?”

Marco handed him the notebook. “You hold onto this. You’re helping my accounting department; starting immediately.” Benny was going to start intrinsically going through everything RICCI IMPORTS logged. Every dollar, every crate, every shipment.

For the first time since landing in Queens; Benny Lombardi found his belonging. He had trust in Marco. Marco trusted him.

So far – anyway.