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Where did the drugs go? Started by: Daniella on Mar 20, '17 03:59

“What do you mean it’s been impounded?!” Daniella’s voice was harsh as she nearly screamed into the phone. She had been expecting a rather large shipment of drugs from across the country and it was already two days late. The drugs being late was threatening to set off a chain reaction – if they were late to her she couldn’t distribute them to her men to sell them. If they couldn’t be sold then she wasn’t making money and if she wasn’t making money she couldn’t support her district, pay her own taxes or any number of others things that she needed to take care of. Granted, it wasn’t enough of a problem to send her into crisis, but Daniella was incredibly diligent with her funds so even the smallest of amounts was enough to make her very angry very quickly. She had sent a few of her own men to investigate and now one was one the phone, delivering the bad news.

She was pacing next to her desk, as far as the cord would allow her to at least. Daniella only paced when she was nervous or angry and today it was clearly the latter. “You listen to me – I want my damn drugs back. Go find me @The_Courier and bring him to my office. He was supposed to be overseeing this transfer and I want to know what the hell is going on.”

Daniella hung up the phone and let out a deep breath. She poured herself a glass of whiskey and took a seat at her desk, forcing herself to relax. Surely there was a perfectly good explanation. Really, she’d hoped nothing had happened to the man. After all, he was supposed to be one of the best and if Kathryn had recommended him then Daniella knew it had to be true. So she was sure there was a very good explanation. She just needed to find out what it was.

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"Watch it fellas! There's no need to be so rough!" the man they called The Courier exclaims as he is slammed against the bonnet of the police cruiser by the two officers, his hands firmly handcuffed behind him. The police had stripped off his trench coat, had patted him down, and were going through the contents of his coat now. The cocaine, which had been hidden in his vehicle had been towed away with the pick-up itself. The Courier was not naive enough to believe that the donut-munching bastards would burn the drugs like they claimed. No, they would take photographs with it and tell the papers about how they apprehended a dangerous criminal and heroically seized the goods, before handing the stuff over to the mobster they were paid by.

For paid, they had been. Only someone with prior knowledge of the operation could have told the cops where and how to track him down, and find the goods. The only question was who? Godmother @Daniella had a lot of enemies, so it was difficult to make a name out right away. He sighs in frustration, feeling the tight, cold metal that had immobilized his hands, and prevented him from moving without dislocating his shoulders. He could only hope that they would haul him off to jail, where @Kathryn or @Daniella could bring him out on bail. If however, they had been instructed to hand him over to their employers, or to dispose off him on the way, things would turn out very differently indeed.

Suddenly, he notices a man standing in an alley a little distance away from the cop car. The man was looking intently at him. The cops had not noticed the mysterious stranger yet, and as The Courier and the man stared at each other, the latter made the signaling gesture which he had pre-arranged with @Daniella using his hands. Breathing a sigh of relief, he nods his head, very gently to indicate that he had seen the man, who disappears into the darkness of the alley after receiving the acknowledgement. "Ok asshole, we'll be keeping your piece." one of the cops barks into his ear, holding up his M1911 Colt. "And we'll also be confiscating the rest of your tools." he continues, indicating the switchblade, the set of brass knuckles, and the two katans he used.

"Be me guest." The Courier tells them scathingly, as they force him into the back of the cruiser. Meanwhile, the mysterious stranger walks to a nearby telephone booth. Dialing @Daniella's office, he waits until she answers on the other end. "He's been picked up by some dirty cops. Someone has tipped them off and has paid them to get rid off him on the way to prison. Word is, they're going to stage an attempted escape, and gun him down when he tries it. What are your orders?"
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Daniella’s anger had mostly abated by the time her phone rang. She was checking the status of some recent collections but she was still quick to answer. She listened as the man told her what was going on and it took some control for her anger not to spike up again. “What are my orders? Did I not just make it clear that I want that man in my office? Get rid of the cops and bring him here. The last thing I need to do is explain to Don Kathryn why one of her men didn’t return from this trip.” She thought for a moment before she spoke again. “Actually, bring one of the cops too. I want to know who the hell thinks they can steal my drugs out from under me. Someone is going to regret this immensely.”

She didn’t wait for the man to respond before she hung up. He’d know where to get back up if he needed it and they’d have more than enough fire power to intercept the police car and get The Courier to safety. The trick was not killing both officers; she wanted at least one alive so she could find out who hired him. She knew she’d have some hiccups after taking over the Godfather position here in the Bronx; she’d renegotiated some deals with other mobsters across the country and not all of them were happy with the terms. Enemies were simply a part of the job but she knew she would need to deal with them with a firm hand if she wanted to set an example for whoever else might think they can mess with her business.

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The Courier frowned as he saw the route the cruiser was taking. They sure as hell were not heading for the police station. So, it was going to be option two then. There was either a reception party waiting for him, or they would do it themselves. Either way, it seemed like the end of the line, unless the man in the alley had arranged otherwise. The cruiser pulls up near a cliff over-looking New York Bay. "Step out!" one of the officers barks at him from the front seat. 

Having no choice, The Courier complies, stepping out of the car and turning to face his captors. "Ok asshole, now walk very carefully towards the edge of the cliff. Any sudden movements, and we'll splatter your guts all over the grass. Got it?" The Courier chuckles darkly. "Yeah, sure. Like ya aren't goin' to do that anyway. Well, ya can take yer warnings and stuff 'em up yer slimy arses ya pricks." He watched with grim satisfaction as the two policemen went red with anger. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of meekly meeting his end. "Fine, have it your way then." the first cop says through gritted teeth, aiming his revolver right at The Courier's face.

Looking defiantly back, The Courier waits for the shot to come. When it does however, he somehow doesn't feel it. The sharp crack of the weapon was followed by the cop aiming the gun at him tumbling to the ground, a gaping red crater where his left temple had been. The second policeman curses, and reaches for his own gun, but a second shot hits him in the knee, and he topples over, alive, but in agony. Breathing a sigh of relief, The Courier looks up and sees the mysterious stranger walking towards him, a smoking bolt-action rifle in his hands.

"You ok kid?" the man asks him in a gruff voice. "I'll be even better if ya can get these off." The Courier responds, indicating the handcuffs that were still firmly attached to his wrists. The stranger approaches him, kicking the surviving cop in the face and knocking him out. When he reaches the smuggler, he pulls out a bobby pin and unlocks the handcuffs. "Thank ya." The Courier says gratefully, rubbing his sore wrists. "I suppose the @Daniella sent ya?" The stranger nods in response. "She wants to see you, and we'll bring our friend with us too." he says, indicating the out-cold cop. "Help me put him in the boot. Then we'll put the body inside the cruiser and roll it off the cliff, before driving down to see the Godmother." 

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The drive back to the headquarters of the Godmother would be relatively quiet; except for the occasional thudding from the drunk whenever the copper would wake. The man who had seen fit to rescue @The_Courier was the quiet type; there was no idle chit chat or discussion about the weather. He had a job to do and it wasn’t finished until the other two in the car were successfully delivered to the Godmother.

The car stopped in front of a rather unremarkable building; outside of a sign on the door naming her crew, no one would ever really know that this was Daniella’s headquarters. That was kind’ve the point after all; why advertise for all the world to see? The driver climbed out, sighing as he put his fingers to his lips to let out a loud whistle. The front door would open and two rather burly looking men would come out, meeting the driver at the trunk. “All right boys, take him downstairs. Daniella’s gonna wanna talk to him in a bit so try not to do too much damage ok?” He raised an eyebrow at both before popping open the truck so they could take the officer. Once they were headed inside he came around to the passenger side and motioned for The Courier to follow him.

“Best advice I can give you is not to argue with the woman. She’s a devil in a dress that one, especially when she’s angry.” The man shook his head, clearly having been on the other end of Daniella’s wrath at some point in his career. He escorted The Courier into the building and down a hallway, coming to a door and knocking gently. When he heard the word, he pushed open the door and with a tilt of his head told the man to follow him inside.

“The man you wanted boss; got him before the dirt bags were gonna send him off a cliff.”

Daniella sat behind her desk, a glass of whiskey still in her hands. If this was the first one she'd poured or the fifth couldn't be known. She looked up at the two men, nodding slightly. “Thank you. And you brought one of them for us to question?”

The man nodded his head in response.

“Good. Go make sure the boys aren’t killing him please.” He nodded once more before turning to leave the room, giving The Courier a look that could only mean “good luck”.

Daniella studied the Vegas man for a moment before she motioned to the chair in front of her. “Come, have a seat. Relax. Take a moment to get over the fact that you nearly just died.” She stood and poured another glass of whiskey, placing it on the desk in front of his seat. “Drink.”

She waited a few moments, sipping her own glass and giving him a little time to compose himself, if he needed it. Or maybe pausing just long enough to make him a little uncomfortable. Surely Katheryn would forgive her for making one of her men sweat a bit; after all, this was a substantial amount of money they were discussing.

“Now tell me what the hell happened to my drugs.”

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The Courier lets loose a sigh of frustration. Though he didn't show it in front of her, he was as pissed off about the situation as The Godmother was, maybe more. He had never bungled a delivery job before, and he wasn't about to start now. After all, he had a reputation of efficiency and reliability, a reputation that was being severely threatened now. "I won't apologise to ya, because apologies are words, and words are wind. Wind is of no use to people who are about to lose a great deal o' money." he tells @Daniella in a grim tone.

"There was a second cruiser with two other cops in it. One o' 'em got into me pick-up and drove off with 't, closely followed by his partner in the cruiser. They said 't was bein' taken to the station to be impounded. Codswallop in me opinion. All four cops were paid, and they are deliverin' me pick-up and yer cargo to the one who paid 'em as we speak." The Courier tells @Daniella, curling his hands into fists. "Now I know the ins and outs o' people in the drug trade, and I dare-say, there would be a lot o' takers to grab yer cargo today. The only problem is, I can't track down the broker who paid the cops till I know who hired them in the first place."

He gives @Daniella a piercing look. "Someone within' yer organisation must've slipped them the info. There's no way they could've found out about the move without inside help, so ya might wanna look into that. As for who they slipped it to, does this mean anythin' to ya?" he asks her, as he pulls out a card from his pocket and places it on her desk before her. It was a regular joker from a deck of playing cards, and when he flipped it over, she could see that it had a location and a time written on it, in a neat cursive script. The location, and the time where he had been ambushed by the police.

"I lifted it from one o' the cops before they cuffed me. Figured ya might be able to make some sense of 't." he tells @Daniella as he takes a sip of the whisky.
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Daniella listened to his story while sipping her whiskey, her face rather expressionless. Anyone would be able to see the sheer level of frustration that the man was feeling; she rather appreciated it actually. Clearly he took the loss of her drugs personally, which meant he would work just as hard to get them back to her.

Taking the card that he put on the table, she flipped it between her fingers, studying the writing and the choice of card. She knew almost immediately what it meant – there was only one crew in New York that would use this as a calling card. She finished off the alcohol that was left in her glass before looking back at The_Courier. “Queens.”

She stood from her desk, motioning for him to follow her. She explained as she walked. “After I took over the position of Godmother, I renegotiated some long-standing trades. There was one that stood out – a small crew based in Queens known as the Wild Cards. They had an exceptionally good deal regarding drugs coming in and out of the Bronx. So good that I could only assume that they had some sort of dirt on the former Godfather. Either way, it didn’t matter to me, I ended the deal rather quickly. They weren’t very happy with that, for obvious reasons.”

Walking back towards the front, Daniella stopped about halfway there and pulled a door open, heading down a set of stairs towards the basement. “The joker is their calling card. They’re known to leave it behind at robberies or murders so it’s not a far stretch to think they orchestrated this. The real questions are where they got the information and where they’re bringing my drugs.”

She stopped at the bottom, letting her eyes adjust to the dimmer light. The_Courier would see the officer they had brought in tied to a chair in the middle of the room. He was clearly a bit roughed up, but he was alive and breathing. Daniella walked up to him, looking him over with a frown. “Hopefully he can answer one of those questions. Or both.”

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The cop was looking warily around the room. As The Courier and Godmother @Daniella entered the room, he cast them both a furtive look before starting to mumble threats and warnings incoherently, most of them involving all the mafioso in the room getting their asses landed in prison for assaulting a police officer like him. The man who had rescued The Courier earlier stepped forth. He held out a set of brass knuckles towards The Courier, and nodded towards the cop. The Courier smiled and shook his head. "I'm a smuggler fellas. I don't do torture. I'm more interested in what he has to say, and I'll leave the makin' him say it part to y'all."

"Alright suit yourself." the man says before putting on the brass knuckles himself and walking towards the cop. "Right then, I need the name and the company of the person who hired you. For every minute that you delay in telling us, I will break one of your bones, starting now." he said as he struck the cop across the jaw. The knuckles caused a few of his teeth to shoot out of his mouth along with copious amounts of blood. The man looked inquiringly at @Daniella, to confirm if he could go ahead, or if she would like him to tone it down a bit.
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There were no threats that the officer could make that would rattle the men, and woman, in that room. Daniella had more than a few officers that she had paid off herself and she’d put them to use if she had too. Daniella watched as The_Courier turned down the brass knuckles that were offered to him. She could respect his decision; she didn’t particularly like doing this either but she recognized that it had to be done.

Daniella’s point person, a man named Cameron, was one of the rougher men that she had employed. A tall, thin man, his face was drawn and he’d clearly seen a lot in his life. He looked older then he was, but his eyes expressed a calm understanding of the world. They needed information and he would get that information for them.

It took everything in Daniella for her not to turn away when Cameron hit the officer across the jaw, sending teeth and blood flying across the room. She had learned long ago that showing weakness in a situation like this would only undermine her position. Still, when the man looked at her to see what he should do next, Daniella spoke. “His jaw might be a poor place to start Cameron, we do need him to be able to speak after all.” Daniella glanced at the officer, shaking her head slightly. “You can end all of this right now. Just tell me who hired you.”

“In fact,” Daniella stepped forward, holding up the card that @The_Courier had given her earlier. “You don’t even need to utter their names. Just tell me, was it The Wild Cards? Are they who hired you?” She met his eyes, daring him to do anything other than tell her the truth. She could see the pain the office was experiencing from the blow he’d just received. She leaned in, her voice soft, almost soothing. “This can all be over. All you have to do is tell me what I want to know."

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The police man takes a deep breath. The man had guaranteed him a slow and painful death if he spilled the beans on him. Well, it sure looked like it would go that way regardless of what he did. He decided to take his chances with the Godmother, and tell her the truth, hoping she would offer him protection. "I'm not sure if the Wild Cards had something to do with it. I was hired by a man who called himself The Turk. He said a competitor would be moving a shipment of drugs through New York today, and that he would pay handsomely if we could nab the shipment, deliver it to him, and kill the rival smuggler. He even gave us a cash advance." the cop tells them tentatively.

The Courier could see the disappointment on Godmother Daniella's face. She was clearly looking for a legitimate reason to bump off these Wild Cards. He however, was grinning. He knew "The Turk" very well, very well indeed, and he had a feeling the Godmother would have her reason before the day was done. "He's a broker. A smuggler and a middle-man." he tells Daniella quietly. "There's a good chance yer friends hired him to do the job, and he subcontracted these buggers." he tells her, gesturing towards the cop.

"If ya have a vehicle, we can go and pay The Turk a visit right now, once yer done dealin' with the dirty cop." 

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Frowning as the cop spoke, Daniella stepped back and sighed. She was clearly disappointed but she should have known better then to think the solution would be so simple. The name that the cop had mentioned wasn’t one she was familiar with at all, which was frustrating to her. Then again, she would acknowledge that she hadn’t been as hands on with her drug shipments recently. After all, that’s what she had a crew for; there was no point in micromanaging things most of the time. 

Daniella glanced over at The_Courier, the grin on his face causing her to raise an eyebrow in question. The man explained that he was familiar with the name, a fellow smuggler. “It would make sense I suppose. Try to keep their own hands clean, blame everything on this Turk man. Or maybe they weren't involved and someone is trying to frame them by using the joker card. Either way, we’ll find out.”

The cop looked hopeful, clearly thinking he’d done the right thing and they’d let him go now. But Daniella wasn’t so easily satisfied. She looked at the injured man for a moment before speaking. “If the information that you gave us checks up and if it leads to me getting my drugs back, then maybe I’ll consider letting you live. But until then, you stay here.” His face fell and he sunk down into the chair further. “No more harm is to come to him for now boys. Let him sit down here and think about the choice he made.”

Turning around, Daniella headed for the stairs. “Come on, my car is outside.” She led the way back upstairs and out the front door of her headquarters. Sitting in the driveway The Courier would see a white 1937 BMW 328 with black trim. Daniella didn’t drive herself often but when she did she wanted to ensure it would be in style. Climbing into the driver's seat, the blonde woman glanced at her new partner. This was clearly something that the Godmother was going to handle herself. “Just tell me where we’re going.”

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Saluzzo was a Sicilian through and through. A devout Catholic, and a strong follower or Omertà, he was a model associate of the Mafia. He had made most of his money, running contraband from Anatolia into Europe during the Allied occupation of the now defunct, Ottoman Empire after the Great War, and his efficient smuggling runs in the region had earned him the nickname of "The Turk", a name which he carried with him to America. Being a man of impeccable manners, and a rather inflated ego, he despised competition, and the possibility of being outdone by another in any way, especially in business.

The man they called The Courier irked him especially. A rogue and a thief, whom he considered to be the lowest of scum, the young smuggler had seized the lucrative bootlegging contract with Al Capone across the US-Canada border, through a series of runs he thought were impossible. He had been outdone by a street urchin, and he had sworn vengeance ever since. Now, that vengeance was complete, and the police had ensured that the impertinent rascal was lying at the bottom of New York bay. Pouring himself and his guest some Scotch, they propose a toast to their future relationship.

"I must say, I am very pleased with your professionalism." the Wild Card buttonman tells The Turk. "You got us the shipment and covered your traces impeccably. We would very much like to work with you in the future. After all, once we have interrupted Daniella's hold on the drug trade in New York, we would require a transporter for our product." he tells the smuggler with a twisted smile.

"I am indeed looking forward to working with the Wild Cards. You are one of my best clients, and so will be provided with the finest of my services. Rest assured, your cargo will be safe with me." The Turk responds, before sipping his own drink. Angry voices from the reception area outside the office room interrupt the two men. The voices are followed by a dull thud, and a soft gasp of pain, as the sound of a body hitting the floor reaches the two men. The Turk and the Wild Card buttonman both reach for their pieces, but the door opens before they can get them out.

The Courier and Godmother Daniella stand in the doorway, both armed. "Are we interruptin' gents?" The Courier asks the two men cheerily, pointing his M1911-Colt at The Turk's face, while The Godmother covers the Wild Card buttonman.
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The drive through New York City was relatively simple; The Courier provided her a location and some directions and Daniella found the way there. She blocked a block away, not wanting to risk anyone recognizing her car, and together they walked to the meeting spot. When they entered the reception area outside the office, there were two men who were clearly startled by their appearance. Some lively discussion followed, voices raising until Daniella and The Courier dispatched the guards. Without waiting, Daniella pushed open the door to the back, her gun drawn.

The two men that they walked in on were clearly started. A man that Daniella could only assume to be The Turk stared at The Courier, his face pale. “But….you’re….you’re supposed to be dead! Those lousy coppers….” The Wild Card buttonman glanced at The Turk, clearly enraged. “Lousy coppers? This was your responsibility you good for nothing….”

Daniella couldn’t help but laugh, the sound causing both men to stop talking and look back at her. A grin was spread across her lips. “You’re both idiots. You really thought it would be that easy to try and steal my drugs?” She kept her gun aimed level at the buttonman’s head as she spoke. “Take your weapons and kick them over to us. Slowly. And don’t try any funny business because I’ll have no problem leaving you both at the bottom of the ocean. Now that I know for sure the Wild Cards are involved your lives are rather meaningless to me.”

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The four people in the room are once more distracted as the door of the reception opens, causing the customer bell to tinkle, and another woman walks in through the door. The Courier eyes her nervously, wondering whether he should turn around and cover her with his fire-arm, when he notices out of the corner of his eye that Daniella was smiling at the newcomer over her shoulder. Ok, so that meant the woman was not hostile. "Unless yer here to gate-crash the party, we could use an extra pair o' hands to monitor this lot here." he calls out to the woman, who unknown to him, was named Aldora

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Throwing her coat over the back of a chair, Aldora stared at the small pile of letters and papers on her desk. She had masterfully avoided dealing with the least important stuff for a few days, but now she had run out of excuses, and she was sure Daniella was keeping an eye on the pile. With a sigh she sat down and started to rifle through them, sorting out what needed attended to first; most were just general reports, now and again a note letting her know some business had been taken care of. One piece of grubby paper went straight in her trash can. She decided she had better sign off on her bodyguards getting some extra training in; just as she lifted her one of the young thugs that normally hung around interrupted her.

"Are you missing your hands?" Confusion flashed across the messengers face, annoying Aldora even more. "Maybe you were just never taught to knock before entering, this better be important!"

"Uh, yes ma'am." The silence loomed for almost a minute before Aldora lost her patience. "Well? What the bloody hell are you waiting for man!" Finally the lad managed to speak; he had barely muttered Godmother Daniella's location before Aldora was out the door and on her way.

 

As her driver pulled up to the location Aldora noticed Daniella's white BMW parked, quite hastily, outside. "Wait here." Pulling her hair out of its ponytail and fixing it back up into a bun Aldora approached the building. Voices could be heard inside, though she couldn't make out what was being said. Nor could she tell what sort of situation she was about to walk into. With her Smith and Wesson in her hand she gently pushed the door open and cursed as she heard the noise of the bell.

Quick to assess what was happening, Aldora nodded at the man who had spoken. Slowly she smiled as she turned to him. "Sure, what do you need? A bullet in their knees would stop them from moving, or a knife in a thigh. Of course I could also just get some rope from the car and we could tie them up?"

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When the other woman walked into the room, Daniella’s smirk turned into a grin. She could see a flash of worry on The Courier’s face but her smile would be enough to put him at ease. Before leaving her headquarters earlier, Daniella had left one of her boys with a simple message – tell Aldora where she was going. She trusted her right hand enough to know that the message would mean. Sure enough, not too long later, here she was.

“Your timing is impeccable dear. We were just about to get these two settled down so they could give us a bit of information.” Daniella’s gaze returned to the two men that were still standing in front of them. She did have to give them some credits - they were rather stone faced despite the change in their situation. If they were nervous, she couldn't tell. “I’d say the rope is the best option for now, but if one of them tries anything stupid you can feel free to pick your poison. I rather like the idea of a bullet to their knees if I do say so myself. And we should secure the area for now; don't need any of their friends showing up while we question them.”

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Once the two men had been securely tied to their chairs, The Courier pulls up three chairs and takes a seat while offer the other two to Daniella and Aldora. "I hope ya both don't mind the tobacco smoke?" he asks the two women as he pulls out a cigarette and lights it. Taking a deep draw, he blows the smoke out and turns to The Turk. "Look, I prefer to not beat 'round the bush, so let's get to the point. Where have ya both taken me pick-up and the drugs to? The quicker ya both respond, the easier and less messy 't'll be for all o' us." he asks the two men, his cheery expression gone and replaced with a cold, business-like manner.

Perhaps to increase the impression of ruthless efficiency, The Courier kept the barrel of his M1911-Colt aimed directly at The Turk's crotch. He also nodded at Daniella and Aldora to indicate that they were free to ask any questions they wanted from the men, and to deal with them as was necessary.
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Just as the two men started to reply, all hell broke loose. A convoy of cars screeched to a halt outside The Turk's office, and men stepped out of them, carrying tommy-guns, guns which were soon trained at the office. Acting quickly, The Courier ducks as the men open fire. The Turk screams and topples over along with his chair, managing to save himself as well. The Wild Card buttonman and the two women are not so fortunate.

After the first volley, The Courier looks up to see Daniella and Aldora lying on the floor in a pool of blood, while the Wild Card was still tied to his chair, resembling some very red Swiss Cheese. Had it all been a trap then? Turning to look at The Turk, he sees that the man is just as confused and frightened. If it had been a trap, he would've known about it. 

Crawling over to The Turk, The Courier cuts him free with his switch-blade. "Looks like someone else decided to take care o' both our employers." he tells The Turk grimly. "If ya lead me to the drugs and me pick-up, we can grab 'em both, sell the white gold and split the profits." Despite his shortcomings, The Turk was no fool and knew when to set aside old rivalries and work for mutual benefit. 

"Follow me, there's a secret way out through the back." he tells The Courier as the two smugglers escape from the bullet-riddled office............

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