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| A Sordid Tale. | Started by: KingOfOnePercent on Jan 30, '09 19:42 |
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Started doing a little writing - and before I knew it I had all this; so I figured I'd right ahead and have a posty wost. Not really sure if I'll develop it into anything. Probably not as I'm a lazy C. The shrill electric tone cut through the stillness like a knife, followed by the deep vibration as the phone pulsated it's way across the fine mahogany. It got to the fourth ring before the man picked it up with a groan. "Hello, Hugo Chesterton speaking" Despite the early hour, well he didn't even know how early the hour was yet, he always answered cordially, his career demanded it. "This is 1-800-Collect. You have a collect call from Hugo Chesterton. Do you accept the charges?" Hugo tried to shake himself awake and pulled himself upright in his bed, the silk sheets falling away from his heavy frame. Surely he heard wrong, a collect call from...himself? He must've heard wrong, he was fifty four after all, a little old for his friends to be playing pranks on him. Probably his brother, and he'd just misheard the first name. Yes that was it, he told himself; though that still didn't explain why his brother would be calling him collect from a payphone. Finally ceasing his procrastination, he switched the cell to his other ear and spoke. "Yes." Moments later, he was patched through to the caller. At least he thought he was, but he couldn't hear anything on the other end of the line. "Hello?" He pressed the phone into his ear, straining to hear anything. There it was, faint breathing, but nothing more. "Hello?" He said it again, this time a little more loudly and forceful, yet still prompting no reply. He heard the faint breathing before another second or two, before a click and the dull monotony of the dial tone. Sighing, Hugo Chesterton pulled the phone away from his ear and checked the time. 5:45, may as well get up now. Feeling for the lamp beside his bed, he flicked it on, throwing bold shadows against the walls. Still adjusting to the light, he half walked half stumbled across the Persian shag pile into the en suite, squinting all the way. It was only after he'd shaved and washed himself that Hugo let himself think about the phone call; and the meaning became clear in a crystallising instant under the hot jets of water. The Mob. It was classic Sicilian message of intimidation. A collect call from Hugo Chesterton with no speaking. A subtle warning - don't talk. It was a tenuous connection at best, but having been a special reporter covering organised crime for the New York Times for over 10 years, he knew he was right. Not that it mattered, he wouldn't be cowed into silence by a group of jumped up thugs and besides, the Mob didn't touch reporters, it was one of those unwritten rules. Hugo felt safe knowing this when he picked up the phone to his Editor before he left for work that morning, Safe enough to tell him his piece on impending Mob War was ready to go. That was a big mistake He also felt safe enough not to exit his house via the front door rather than out of the underground garage too. That was his last big mistake, for it was at that moment that a bullet sent from a Dragunov SVD rifle tore his throat to ribbons on a busy Manhattan street. |
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| Well done, sir, and a good read. | |
| Reply by: MacLeod at Jan 30, '09 20:08 | |
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| It was a little confusing but it's a great story. | |
| Reply by: AJMan_4 at Jan 30, '09 20:18 | |
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You are a lazy C which is annoying as it's a good read. You should finish it or post it on the street and let others run with it if you're going to be a lazy C face! |
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| Reply by: The_Jedi at Jan 30, '09 21:00 | |
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| Good story. Well written. | |
| Reply by: Maxie at Jan 30, '09 21:52 | |
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| I agree with Maxie | |
| Reply by: RourkeyRourke at Jan 30, '09 23:22 | |
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| I agree with mah bestie | |
| Reply by: Fu-ManjuRourke at Feb 01, '09 10:36 | |
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Clearly plagiarised. ;) Nice work bud, expand! |
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| Reply by: SwingingBo at Feb 02, '09 06:35 | |
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| Well thought out, and nicely written story :) | |
| Reply by: MrShady at Feb 08, '09 21:40 | |
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Decided to add to this. Consider the first instalment the prologue and this the first chapter if you will. It's a bit slow currently, but I'll speed it up in the next couple of chapters (when I can be arsed) Frank Grosso walked around the apartment, checking everything was in the right place. To say the place was sparsely decorated would be an understatement. There was nothing here that wasn't absolutely essential. Not television. No soft furnishings. No references to his wife, 3 children and 2 dogs that lived just outside of the city limits. This was how he liked it though, an efficient impersonal space where he could do his job without distraction; that didn't mean he wasn't a family man, he was in fact a good husband to his wife, and a good father to his children. As he strolled around the apartment though, he wryly reflected that this was his favourite part of the week. The anticipation. The notion of going out and spending an all-American weekend with the kids out in the family home on Long Island. It's funny that the idea appealed to him more than the reality; but of course, the reality was always that after a few hours, the annoyance of small children and his nagging spouse left him longing for the solitude of the city. He loved them, of course he did, but to Frank, they'd only be his second most important family. It was as he thought about this that one of the four cell phones he carried began to ring. The ringtone told him that it was the private line. Only one man, or one office he should say, could reach him on this phone. That meant before he even answered, he knew it was important. "This is Frank. What have you got for me Pete?" "Hey Mr. Grosso, it's Al here." As usual, Frank was thinking ahead of time. There were only a handful of men there were allowed into Pete Serafini's office, and only a handful of people knew about the ledger of private phone numbers he kept. Pete's eldest son, Alphonse - Frank never called him Al - was not one of those people. That told Frank something was not right. By the time he replied, he'd already grabbed his keys and briefcase and was heading to the door. "Alphonse, where is your father?" "He got picked up by the feds, something abo-" "No, don't say anymore over the phone Alphonse. Get a driver to pick me up on East 13th - next to Stuyvesant. You come too." Without saying anything else, Frank hung up. He was already out of the door and locking it. By the time he was in the elevator, he'd taken the sim card out of the phone and broken it into small pieces. By the time he was out of the apartment block and one hundred yards down the road, the pieces of the sim card were in 3 different trash cans and the handset had gone down a drain. Paranoid, sure. But Frank Grosso wasn't the sort of guy to take chances, especially not over a cheap cell phone. As he walked the short distance to where the driver would be, he ran through a mental checklist of anything the Feds could've pulled his Boss over, but he was just drawing blanks. This worried him greatly. Had he overlooked something? He knew every pie his Boss had his finger in, and he thought all tracks were well covered; but he had obviously overlooked something for the F.B.I to have shown their hand. Frank saw the car he had sent for and headed towards it, reaching a state of near panic, but trying desperately not to show it. People took comfort from his calm manner, and he was absolutely determined not to show a weakness, particularly not in front of Pete's son. As he pulled open the weighty door of the black Lincoln, he looked to see who was driving, seeing dead grey eyes staring at him through the rear view. "Federal Plaza Lou, take us a nice route - I want to be there in about fifteen minutes." "You got it Boss" Lou was a big guy, maybe two hundred-forty pounds, even in the spacious Lincoln he looked cramped; so considering his size his voice was surprisingly nasally. A dependable guy though, smart too; Frank made a mental note to bump him up, this guy was too good to be a driver. Turning his attention to the adolescent next to him, Frank got right down to business. "Tell me everything that happened Alphonse - absolutely everything." "Well Mr. Grosso, there were two guys, feds, and they like, just came right around the back to the decking in the garden, we were all sitting outside." "I need names Alphonse. Were they armed? Did they look threatening? What did they say? I need to know all this." "Uh...one was called Chesterton I remember that, I don't know the other guy. I guess they were armed 'cause I saw bulges, y'know? Anyway they didn't pull them but the seemed kind of forceful. One of them says 'Mr. Serafini - you're coming to answer a few questions for us." Al paused and Frank nodded and gestured for him to continue. "Well I noticed what they said because, like, they didn't ask, it was more like a command, see? Anyway, a few guys, Lou up there and me obviously were about to step in; but we followed Dad's lead - he seemed pretty calm." Out of the corner of his eye, his saw Lou nodding vigorously as if to reinforce that he had his Boss' back. "Ok Alphonse, you mean calm how? Calm like he was resigned to them taking him in, or calm like he wasn't too concerned?" "Uh, well I guess just calm. He winked at me on the way out, he didn't seem too worried." Frank nodded, though he wasn't sure what to feel. Why did Pete wink? Did he know something Frank didn't, or did he just expect his Consigliere to work some magic? His stomach dropped as he contemplated the latter. What the hell was going on? He only had one more question for young Alphonse; where the fuck was Paulie? "Alphonse, why did you phone me?" "Well, you're Dad's go to guy - I figured after he got pinched I should talk to you." "But why were you in his office, why didn't Paulie make the call?" Paulie was one of Pete's senior guys. Only Frank had known Pete longer than Paulie, and as such he was one of the most trusted guys in the business. Al was about to reply when he suddenly closed his mouth and furrowed his brow, when he did speak it came out as a whisper, a whisper Frank did not want to hear. "He...Paulie left. About 10 minutes before the feds came, he didn't even say where he was going - he just slipped out." Silence permeated the car. All three men, well, two men and one teen were thinking the same thing; but no one wanted to verbalise it. Finally, as they were approaching Federal Plaza, Al cleared his throat and spoke quietly. "Mr.Grosso, do you think Paulie..." Frank cut him off, as if not speaking about Paulie's betrayal would make it any less real. "That's nothing to do with you Alphonse." Turning towards Lou and half opening the door, he spoke again "Lou, take Alphonse back to the house, after you dropped him off, come back and wait for us." "Alphonse, do your homework." With that, Frank stepped out of the car and headed purposefully for the F.B.I's New York Field office. |
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| Reply by: KingOfOnePercent at Feb 16, '09 14:41 | |
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| Good mate, enjoying it. More, more ;) | |
| Reply by: SwingingBo at Feb 17, '09 06:26 | |
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