For Nothing (6 page)

Whereas Magaddino led the family for fifty years, now they would go through three bosses in twelve years.

It was during these wars that Rafael Rontego earned his stripes. He earned a reputation most men would have to die for. With skil , he maneuvered himself on both sides of the war and made a kil ing on hit contracts. The assassin kept out of the spotlight and left the politics to whoever paid him the most. It paid off in more ways than one, too.

At first, the Pieri brothers seemed to win the war. Sal, ‘The Eye’, Pieri even claimed the title of boss for a while. If Rontego came out on the winning side, he would have been short lived, because less than a year later, it was Crazy Fino that got the upper hand and ousted ‘The Eye’.

That victory lasted for four years, so Rontego got a little comfortable and it became a suspicion when one of the Pieri brothers, (this time ‘The Eye’s’

younger brother Joseph), resumed control ing interest in the Buffalo Empire.

Through some sleek maneuvering, once again, Rafael was able to scratch a living running a gambling ring and making hits when things became chaotic enough to cover his tracks.

About six years into Joey, “The Blade”, Pieri’s reign, the assassin made a near fatal mistake. He carried out a hit for Old Ciancetta against an upstart Pieri associate. The word traveled fast and a hit was out for Rontego. Scared for his life, Rafael barricaded himself in his apartment.

It was a very tense time.

Fortunate for Rontego, Old Man Ciancetta moved quicker than the hitters and within a week the hired guns sent to take out Rontego were dead and Joseph Pieri was abdicating the Buffalo throne to the Ciancetta factions.

In that time period Rafael became a cold-blooded assassin. With the exception of his first hit, he felt very little remorse, a rare ability that worked in Rontego’s favor in these particular situations. It wasn’t that Rafael was unable to feel guilt, it was that he was able to switch those feelings on and off at wil .

But that was a while ago. Now with Old Ciancetta semi-retired in Florida, Little Leo was in charge. Little Leo was no longer little though, and an aging man himself. He was now responsible for Rontego’s primary income. Stil , Little Leo was a shifty boss.

He sent Rafael out on a lot of hits, which was fine by Rontego, but there was something in his demeanor that often made recognizable blips on Rafael’s danger radar.

Rafael served Old Leo with loyalty, a sort of thank you for saving his life. However, it was no secret that Rafael Rontego considered his debt secret that Rafael Rontego considered his debt repaid with the Old Man’s retirement.

Now, the new Don Ciancetta was fair game.

Perhaps, that was why he kept Rafael busy. For Little Leo, it was a win-win situation. Either Rafael stays busy and takes out the Don’s dirty work, or Rafael gets pinched and spends the next three hundred years in jail, or Rafael gets a bul et in the gut and al that he knows dies with him. Stil , he felt as if the man wanted to do the deed himself, as if Rafael was too successful and he was uncomfortable with such a person holding the keys to so many doors.

Oh well
. Rontego was doing wel under this arrangement, as was the new Don. He used Rafael’s contacts a lot as of late, and as long as Rontego was useful, he did not see any reason to worry about things not in his control.

A strong gust of wind brought him from his inward contemplation. Rafael was burning low on his smoke and tossed the butt onto the embankment along the curb. He brought one hand to his hat as the gust of wind threatened to lift it off of him and send it swirling into the vast, impenetrable whiteness that built up al around him.

With a glance upward along the brim of his hat, Rafael squinted and saw he was about fifty paces from the shelter of his apartment. In a burst, Rontego sprinted onward, across the intersection in front of his place, and into the black metal door that led into the warmth of the narrow stairwel that led to the heat of his home.

The 1997 Ford Taurus squealed into the parking space in front of Alex Vaughn’s townhouse.

The faded blue rust wagon’s squeaking brakes were the only tel tale sign of Alex’s excitement. He never liked the fact that he was yanked from his old case.

His mind was made up now.

Alex entered his apartment and without hesitation, grabbed the phone hanging on the wal of his kitchen. He punched in seven digits as quick as he could get his fingers to move and he felt the chil leave his body as he became accustomed to the heat coursing through his home. Several rings later he heard a familiar voice, gruff but not impolite.

“Hey, Vincenzio here.”

Alex’s friend Ryan Slate was also an undercover agent. He was going by the name of Ricky Vincenzio as of late. Right now he was just an associate to the younger Ciancetta. A friend of Joseph Ciancetta, the new Don’s son. Alex needed a favor, and lucky for him, Ryan Slate A.K.A. Ricky Vincenzio was in a prime position to deliver.

“Vaughn here, I need a favor, Victor Garducci is reactivated. Leak of his return via New Mexico immediately. Contact me again at seven o’clock PM.”

He hoped that “Ricky” would understand and get on with the favor. He had faith in his friend though; Vincenzio was not an unintel igent bastard.

“Yeah sure thing Papa, I’l get right on that.

Look, I am a little busy right now; can I cal you later tonight?” Ryan was covering his ass and not letting on to the conversation.

Alex knew that this was his way of agreeing, and letting Alex know that now was not a good time.

“Sure thing Ricky; thanks a lot. I’l be expecting your cal .”

Alex hung up the phone. So far, so good. Alex went into the bathroom. It was time to mob himself out. He looked at his face. His long brown hair would be fine with a few inches cut off and slicked back. It was time to shave. Alex pul ed out his razor and a pair of scissors.

Alex pul ed his medicine cabinet mirror around and angled his head so that he could get a clear view of the back. He pul ed his scissors up and went about the work of becoming Victor Garducci.

His hands almost trembled with the excitement building up inside him. Everything about this shit on protocol.

As he finished trimming the length of his hair down so that it was about the length of his ears, Alex wondered how much time he would have once he went under. He had a day or two, three tops, before his friend Ryan asked someone about Victor’s reactivation.

Alex might be able to buy more time if he talked to Ryan, Ryan Slate, before he talked to his supervisors. He didn’t want to get the guy in trouble though. He would just have to wait and see how the conversation went later that night. As for now though, Alex was going to begin the process of re-infiltrating his old crew. If he couldn’t buy extra time, then every second undercover counted. And the clock was ticking.

With a shake of what was left of his brown mane, Alex took a look at himself in the mirror. It was interesting to him, half between Alex Vaughn, and half between Victor Garducci. He looked down at the razor sitting on the sink. He reached out and turned the hot water on and waited as the water began to warm as it streamed from the faucet.

In a few moments, Victor Garducci would be back. The son of a bitch that kil ed Jack was going to face a reckoning, and soon, very soon, Alex would be wel on his way to arranging that meeting. What better place to start, then the old pool hal across from Inhaled Imports. Two birds, one stone.

*

It was seven minutes after seven when the phone rang. Alex jumped out of his skin at the sound.

He fel asleep for a few minutes watching the news on his static fil ed television. The phone rang again.

Remembering that Ricky Vincenzio was going to be cal ing him, Alex jumped up and ran to the phone. He took a deep breath, and then lifted it off of the receiver.

“Hel o,” Alex said, with the excitement edging his voice.

“Hey, Alex. It’s Ryan Slate.” Ryan seemed relaxed, and he used his real name. He was away from anyone related to his undercover assignment.

from anyone related to his undercover assignment.

“Hey man, sorry ‘bout earlier. It’s sort of an emergency that I get this information out there. I am going to be making an appearance at the Inhaled Imports tonight.” Alex was trying his best to fil Ryan in without tel ing him too much. The last thing he needed to do was make an unwil ing accomplice out of his friend.

“Alex, what’s going on? I mean this isn’t exactly on par with procedure. I mean fuck man; I was right there in the damn bar.”

Ryan’s

thick

New

York

accent

was

permeating the conversation. He was a learned man and tried not to have any noticeable accent. It was his academic elitism that worked against his natural speech tendencies. However, when Ryan was bothered by something, the accent was back ful force. Right now, Alex detected that Ryan didn’t enjoy the possible implications that could have been caused by the impromptu cal of Alex’s. Something told Alex he should tel Ryan the truth. After al , he had gotten Ryan into this mess of his.

“Ryan, we’ve known each other for a long time. Through the years I haven’t done much that we could cal , wel , crazy.”

He was hoping to convince Ryan of his own sanity. He knew what he was going to say next would sound every bit of insane to his friend. He heard Ryan’s reaffirming grunt on the other end of the line, so Vaughn continued.

“You know my friend Jack was kil ed last night. I think he got into some business that was over his head. The homicide guys are gonna do their best to figure out who kil ed Jack. I’m sure they are. But, Ryan, I want to find out first.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end. Then Alex heard a slow breath of air exhale into the phone.

“Jesus Alex,” Slate’s voice was now that of a New York cab driver’s. Al semblance of hiding his accent was now gone with the man’s obvious unease.

Alex started to explain himself. “Man, just listen to me for a second, hear me out.” Alex was speaking fast now.

For some reason once he started talking, he couldn’t stop. He needed someone in his corner. As brave as he felt, as brave as he wanted to be, going headlong into the mob was not an easy task and the mere prospect of it was leaving its mark on Alex’s nerve. He poured everything out to his friend. He told him of Jack coming to him for help, Jack’s death, the cigarette, and his decision to go undercover. When it was al over, Alex paused to catch his breath, paused hoping for some sort of response from Slate.

“Alex, I don’t think so. This is too much, even for you”.

Alex felt his heart sink. He had to convince Slate.

“Ryan…”

“No. Find someone else. I’m serious.” He had a sound as if he couldn’t be won over and Alex panicked.

“Ryan, if you don’t help me with this, I’m gonna tel people in the I.A. to take a closer look at you. We both know you haven’t done everything on the up and up. No one undercover ever does.” Alex hated saying it.

“You son of a…”

Alex cut him off. “Listen, I don’t judge. I understand. We al have to do things. But I need you for this. I need your help.”

The reply came after a few heartbeats.

“Okay asshole. I’l see what I can do. Just one thing though, why not just go and ask the guy at Inhaled Imports who buys Sobranie cigs?” Ryan was pissed off, but he was also excited.

Perhaps this was right up his al ey.

“Wel , ‘cause Inhaled Imports is run by Old Joe Falzone’s crew. Anyone that snoops around that place is sure to be made. I definitely do not need that kind of heat right now.”

Alex let out a relieved and nervous laugh. He slumped against the wal in his kitchen. His legs felt weak. The severity of what he was about to attempt was catching up to him, and smacking him like a sledgehammer.

“Ah, and you knew I couldn’t do it ‘cause my assignment takes me as close as Joey Ciancetta lets me get. I’m stil in the fringe.” Ryan was right on the mark. “Okay man, I’l do what I can. I’l let it loose to a few mobsters at the bar, you know Jimmy Taps , that Garducci was due back any day. If they ask me how I know something like that, I’l chat ‘em up about some cousin of yours that dated my friend’s niece.

some cousin of yours that dated my friend’s niece.

And asshole, don’t think this is a free one. You could always repay the favor to me by dropping a thing or two about how I’m a good guy, you know, with the crew. Might get me a little bit closer and I might forgive your threat.”

Alex’s relief was now complete. It seemed to him that he had enlisted a valuable al y.

“Alright, but if I do that, we wil need to devise a way for Victor Garducci to leave town again in an amicable fashion. That way no one assumes I’m a rat and your cover remains intact.”

Now that he was not alone, Vaughn’s brain was working a mile a minute; things were coming clearer to him.

“I’l think of a way, you just drop me some help. Let’s talk again tomorrow morning. For now though, I need to get going. Big date at Louie’s. A blonde you wouldn’t believe. She’s a total knockout.” With that Ryan hung up the phone with a click.

Alex, too, hung up the phone. He went into his bedroom. The room was sparse. A nightstand stood on either side of the bed. A walk in closet, the bedroom’s lone redeeming feature, was to the bed’s right.