MOB RULES Read online

  MOB RULES

  Richard Nesbitt

  Copyright © 2017 Richard Nesbitt

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN:

  ISBN-13: 978-1544783857

  Dedicated to Renee and Alan

  My Two Greatest

  Sources of Inspiration

  and Love.

  Mob Rules

  1

  It was a blustery and brutally cold February day. The city had endured a long winter and it showed. Filthy, gray piles of plowed snow lined the city dividing the streets from the sidewalks. Shop owners had shoveled out pathways through the frozen barriers allowing customers access to their storefronts. The typical New York throng of people made their way through the salt covered mess, wrapped in an assortment of winter coats or whatever else they could find to protect themselves from the elements. Those with hoodies had them pulled tightly under their chins, those who did not wrapped their heads with scarves or wore ear muffs or both. Steam poured from each mouth with every breath.

  Captain James Harris strolled casually down 5th Avenue towards Washington Square Park. Dressed in jeans, a New York Giants jacket and hat, he had a white, woolen scarf pulled high covering his mouth and nose. Only his steel blue eyes peeked out and they were watching intently. Watching as his quarry passed under the famous arch and around to the right side of the fountain circle. The fountain had been shut off earlier that winter as plummeting temperatures meant burst pipes. The man he was following paused and turned to look around. He scanned the faces of those in the park. He then sat casually on the ringed wall of the fountain. And he waited.

  Harris walked under the arch and headed left around the ring. He walked towards the snow covered grass and trees and spotted an unoccupied park bench. Taking a seat, Harris looked towards a group of kids as they played in the soft snow. He smiled as he listened to the screams of happy children enjoying the winter day, seemingly impervious to the cold. All the while he kept the man in his peripheral vision. Harris too waited.

  Before long, another man approached his target. The two men shook hands and once again, Harris watched as his man looked nervously around the park. The man then went into his pocket and came out with a clenched fist. The man who had approached him did the same and the two made the exchange. This completed, the other man hurried off leaving Harris’ man alone by the fountain.

  Over the course of twenty minutes, this scene repeated itself four times with four different people approaching his target.

  Finally, the man stood and headed off south through the park. Harris waited until he was almost to Sullivan Street and then he rose and followed. Keeping the man at a good distance, Harris exited the park and made his way down Sullivan. The man made a right onto West Houston and was now walking briskly west, towards the Hudson River. Harris picked up his pace, all the while doing his best to appear uninterested in anything. He purposefully put people between himself and the man so as to not stand out in any way.

  The man reached Greenwich Street and turned left. He was heading towards the Holland Tunnel and Harris knew what that meant. That area of town was littered with vacant buildings and was usually avoided by the citizens of New York. Prostitutes were known to frequent the area and junkies often went there to score drugs or to use them without fear of discovery.

  As suspected, the man cut across the street and made for an old warehouse that had been given up on many years earlier. Harris slowed to a careless stroll keeping his head low to give the appearance of a drifter, another of the cities downtrodden. He crossed the street and made for the warehouse.

  Approaching the corner of the building, Harris saw an open door on the side of the building that faced the river. He ambled towards the door but as he did, he reached under his jacket with his right hand and unclasped the strap holding his 9mm Beretta in place. His hand closed around the grip as he slowly poked his head through the door. The inside of the warehouse was dark and the little sunlight that filtered through the grime covered windows cut random slivers of light across the wide, empty floor. Harris walked through the doorway and turned right. He immediately spotted his man at the far left end of the warehouse. He had taken a seat on the ground and leaned against the wall. Even from that distance, Harris could see what the man was in the process of doing. He walked quietly across the warehouse floor until he reached the far wall, the same wall the man was sitting against as he worked on his fix intently.

  Harris proceeded slowly but the man was so preoccupied with getting high that he didn’t notice his approach. Harris stopped ten feet from the man, waiting to be seen. When he realized that might take a while, he gave a small cough.

  Still sitting on his butt, the man nearly jumped out of his skin. Just as quickly, he regained his composure.

  “Get the fuck out of here!” The dealer yelled with a fierce growl as he looked up at Harris.

  “But I’m cold,” Harris answered meekly, his face still hidden by the scarf.

  “I don’t give a fuck if you’re about to die!” The man screamed loudly. “Turn your ass around and get out of here!”

  “But, it’s cold out there,” Harris mumbled to the man as he took a step closer. “And I got some money. What you got there?”

  The man scrambled to his feet still holding the hypodermic needle and small baggie. He quickly capped the needle and placed it and the baggie on the window ledge behind him. A small, black leather case remained on the floor. His eyes grew wide with fear as he took in the man approaching him. At six foot one inch and solidly built, Harris cut an intimidating presence.

  “This is your last chance to leave before I fuck you up!” The man yelled, desperate nerves causing a crack in his voice.

  “Come on, man. What you got there?” Harris repeated, this time with a hint of amusement.

  The man went quickly for his back pocket. He came out with a large buck knife which he opened with a practiced flick of his thumb. He raised the knife, pointing it towards Harris.

  “Last chance before I cut you, motherfucker!” The man yelled.

  “But I got money, I just need some shit,” Harris spoke. He took two more small steps towards the man.

  The dealer lunged towards Harris, bringing the knife across his body in a wide, sweeping right hook meant to slice. Harris stepped quickly inside, closing the distance to almost nothing. The man’s forearm slammed harmlessly into his ribs. Dropping his left elbow, Harris pinned the man’s arm against his side. Almost instantaneously, he shot a quick jab into the man’s face.

  Having your nose broken is a very painful thing and the man howled with pain. Harris continued to hold the man close with his trapped right arm.

  “Drop the knife,” he said calmly.

  “Man, fuck you!” The man screamed as blood poured from his nose. He attempted to grab Harris by the throat using his free arm but Harris simply snapped his jab into the man’s nose a second time. Another loud howl of pain erupted.

  “Drop the knife,” Harris repeated softly.

  This time the man obeyed and the knife clattered loudly against the cement floor of the warehouse. Harris relaxed his left arm, freeing the man. At the same time he placed his right palm against the man’s chest and pushed him against the wall. The man covered his face with both hands, protecting the broken nose.

  “Do you have any idea who I’m with, motherfucker?!” The man screamed. “You just committed suicide!”

  Harris laughed and with his right hand pulled his scarf down so that his face was no longer hidden. He smiled at the man who recognized him immediately.

  The dealer groaned and shook his head.

  “I’ll take my chances, Hector,” Harris laughed.

  “Oh, fuck,” the dealer cried. “This ain’t happening, man.”

  “Oh bu
t it is, Hector,” Harris said smiling. “It’s definitely happening.”

  “Dude, I’m just using,” Hector pleaded. He held his bloody hands forward in a gesture of surrender. “I didn’t know it was you. I thought I was getting jacked.”

  “I doubt that’s how a judge is going to see it. First I got you for dealing and now this. Attempted murder of a police officer? Damn Hector, you’re looking at some serious time here.”

  “Attempted murder?! I didn’t know it was you, man! And I’m just using, I ain’t slinging!”

  “Why do you assholes always think you can lie to me? Do I honestly look that stupid?” Harris asked with a grin.

  “Man, look at me! I’m about to fix! I ain’t about slinging!”

  “Really? Because one of those guys in the park was an undercover cop,” Harris lied to the man. “And I watched you sell three other bags.”

  “Ahhhh fuck, man,” Hector moaned. He shook his head and looked off into space with wide, desperate eyes as the weight of his situation crashed down upon him. “I can’t go back in, man. I just can’t.”

  “Well then,” Harris spoke. “It’s time to play let’s make a deal.”

  “Come on, man. Do you know who I’m connected with? If I rat I’m dead.”

  “I’m not asking you to testify, Hector. It’s just you and me standing here. You give me the name of your supplier and I let you walk.”

  “Ahhhh, bullshit, man! How stupid you think I am?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Come on, man.”

  “Give me a name, Hector.”

  “Man, let me fix.”

  “First a name and then you can poison yourself.”

  “He’s a made guy. They will cut my head off,” the man pleaded. “I can’t.”

  “All right then, Hector. I appreciate your loyalty. It’s rare,” Harris spoke with a stoic smile. “So turn around, you know the drill.”

  “Man, I didn’t know it was you! You can’t pin me with attempted murder!” Hector screamed in panic.

  “Well I guess we’ll let a jury decide that. Either way you’re staring down at least ten years for distribution.”

  Tears welled up in the dealer’s eyes and his lips quivered as he fought for self control.

  “You gonna cry, Hector?” Harris laughed with amusement. “Are you fucking serious?”

  “You broke my nose!” the man yelled. “It hurts!”

  “Hmmmm, sorry about that. You shouldn’t have tried to cut me.”

  “Man,” Hector said with a loud sniff. He wiped a sleeve across his eyes. “I can’t go back in.”

  “Yeah, but you won’t play ball so my hands are tied. Now turn around and assume the position. Let’s get you out of this cold and into a nice warm jail cell.”

  “Skinny Vinny, man,” Hector blurted. Tears now rolled down his face as he hung his head.

  Harris stared at the man. He grabbed Hector’s chin and lifted his head so that the man was looking in his eyes. The smile was gone. Harris was all business.

  “Is this straight dope, Hector?” He asked, his voice a sledgehammer. “Because if you’re bullshitting me you’re finished.”

  “You think I’d give up the name of a made dude just for fun?” Hector asked in exasperation.

  Harris took a step back and watched the man. No, he decided, he would have given up some nobody, some random low-life. Harris pondered this information. Vincent Giovanni, street name Skinny Vinny, was a member of the Franco family out of Brooklyn, the largest mafia family in New York. A made guy. This was big.

  “Empty your pockets,” Harris ordered. “Put everything on the ledge.”

  Hector complied and slowly withdrew the contents from his two front pockets. He produced five small baggies of heroin from his right front pocket and a large wad of bills from his left. After placing them on the window sill, he simply stared up at Harris.

  “Turn around.”

  Hector’s eyes grew wide. “Man you promised!”

  “I’m just going to frisk you, pal.”

  Hector turned around and placed his hands against the wall. Harris did a quick pat down making sure the man didn’t have a gun hidden anywhere. Satisfied, he spun the smaller man back around to face him.

  “At least you were smart enough not to carry a piece.”

  “Come on, man. Let me fix.”

  Harris was about to speak when his cell phone rang in his pocket. Normally he would have ignored it but the ring tone identifying the caller caused him to retrieve his phone immediately. He threw a halt sign at Hector and then clicked a button on the phone.

  “Hello, Sylvia,” he answered.

  “Jimmy, where are you?” The District Attorney asked bluntly. Her voice was stern. She had not greeted him.

  “I’m in the city. What’s going on?”

  “Jimmy, I don’t care what you’re doing right now but you need to drop it and go to your precinct.”

  “What happened?” Harris asked, the steel edge back in his voice.

  “Jimmy, just go now. It’s your turn to trust me.”

  “Sylvia, what’s going on?”

  “Please hurry, Jimmy.”

  The line went dead.

  Harris stared at his phone. His mind raced and then a sudden thought caused his heart to skip a beat. He quickly went into the contacts on his phone and hit a button. After three rings his wife answered the phone.

  “Hi Jimmy.” She spoke coldly.

  Harris exhaled a long breath. He took a second to steady himself.

  “Hey there,” he did his best to sound casual. “How are you guys?”

  “We’re good, Jimmy. What do you want?”

  Harris was used to her icy tone. They had been separated for three months now and while she and their son Danny stayed with her mother, he remained in their home. He didn’t have to ask about Danny. If something had happened she surely would have let him know.

  “I just wanted to say hello.”

  “Okay. Anything else?”

  “Is Danny good?”

  A pause.

  “Yeah, he’s just peachy. Anything else?”

  “No. That was it.”

  The line clicked dead. She had hung up.

  Harris breathed easier knowing they were safe but something was still terribly wrong. He hadn’t heard that tone in Sylvia’s voice since her daughter Emily had been kidnapped last Thanksgiving. Harris had been the man to save her and it had bonded him with the district attorney for life. This was very unusual.

  Harris glared at Hector who had stood with a bothered and quizzical look on his face.

  “Go get that nose looked at, Hector. Today’s your lucky day.”

  Harris reached over and grabbed the baggies and the money. He stuffed both into his jacket pocket and turned to leave.

  “Hey man!” Hector screamed. “You said you would let me fix! Don’t leave me like this!”

  Harris spun back around and gave the man a look that caused him to flinch. Hector looked away without saying another word.

  Harris started to leave and then stopped short. He hesitated as he looked the man over. Finally, he shook his head with disgust as he fished one of the baggies out of his coat and threw it on the ground between the dealer’s feet. On the street, your word was important.

  “Yo, thanks, man,” Hector spoke in a trembling voice. “Thank you.”

  Harris turned and sprinted towards the exit.

  Mob Rules

  2

  Bonnie Harris sat behind the desk in her mother’s den. She’d been sitting for over an hour turning her gaze back and forth from the computer screen to the window. There were kids playing in the street, a game of stick ball. They were younger boys and it normally would have brought a smile to her face to watch them having fun. However, all she could think of was Danny at that age and how much happier they’d all been. So instead of feeling their laughter in a positive light, all it brought was sorrow and a touch of resentment. And feeling that resentment caused
her to feel angry. And anger caused her to pull even farther from Jimmy. It was a vicious circle.

  She tried to be honest with herself. Was it she that was drifting apart from Jimmy, or was it he that was driving her away by putting his career over his family? She had to admit that it was a little of both, but she also knew that one created the other. Jimmy had let her down so many times over the years. He’d broken so many promises and always in the name of the public good. To hell with the public good, she thought. How about your own goddamn families good?

  She turned back to the laptop in front of her and with a sour look, did a quick scan of the next candidate’s likes and dislikes. Jesus Christ, she thought, another smoker. And he described himself as a moderate drinker. That meant he was drunk.

  “Ick,” she said aloud. “No.”

  Clicking to the next man she noticed that he had posted nineteen pictures of himself and most of them had him sporting a tank top to show off his gym body. A few of them were even shirtless pictures while he was supposedly caught in random household tasks. A fresh look of disgust covered her face. Why is it that the guys who lived in the gym were always such shallow, narcissistic losers, she thought to herself? Jimmy lifted regularly and had a great body and he never went around flaunting it.

  Bonnie stopped herself. She was doing it again, comparing other men to Jimmy.

  Damn him, she thought.

  She clicked to the next profile. A man with the user name BigDaddyJoe smiled suggestively at her. She grimaced. Doing a quick read she saw that his status was divorced. There was that word again. That would be her status soon. It didn’t seem real.

  “You okay, hon?”

  Bonnie looked up to see her mother standing in the doorway. She had an apron on and her hair was pulled back. Something she always did when she cooked.

  “I’m pretty far from okay, mom,” Bonnie responded with a heavy sigh. “How do people start over at my age?”

  “Dear, you are not that old. And who says you have to start over anyway? Can’t you just let things take their natural course?”