| From: | Paul J. Adam ShadowTK@********.demon.co.uk |
|---|---|
| Subject: | Torn Up By The Roots |
| Date: | Wed, 22 Nov 2000 23:02:10 +0000 |
>>>>>[I thought you'd like to see this... they made the mistake of
letting me choose where to meet.
+++++begin video
The restaurant is mostly empty, this early in the evening: except for
two men in black suits and sunglasses at one table, and two more such by
the door. The pair by the door both hold HK227K submachineguns, keeping
them out of sight of anyone passing outside.
The door opens, both men tensing: a third enters, a handsome Elf in his
thirties wearing an expensive, overly sharp suit. Something about his
bearing is slightly insuffering... a swagger to his walk, an excessive
confidence in his movements, even as the two doormen halt him and pat
him down, taking a bright-chrome Guardian machine pistol from inside his
coat before gesturing him to the table.
Luigi Bartolo walks leisurely to the table, sits facing the two suited
men there. "Good evening, gentlemen. Who do I have the honour of...?"
"You don't need names, Mr Bartolo."
"_Don_ Bartolo." There's a sharp edge in Luigi's voice at that. "Okay,
then, you're Abbot and you're Costello, unless you'd prefer something
less flattering?"
"Very well." 'Costello' says, impassive behind his sunglasses. "It has
come to our attention that you are expanding your territory, Mr
Bartolo."
"Look, let me make something clear, Costello. You want my attention, you
treat me with the proper respect. If you can't even address me properly,
why the fuck should I listen to anything else you say?" Bartolo says, an
affably friendly tone combined with a shift in body language that has
both doormen raising their weapons and 'Abbot' and 'Costello' flinching
back.
"I'd consider your situation carefully. You might just leave this
restaurant feet-first. A lot of mobsters have been having fatal
accidents lately."
"You think I'm stupid, Abbot?" Bartolo relaxes back into his chair,
takes a toothpick from the dish in the middle of the table, inserts it
into the corner of his mouth. "Think I'd walk in here without making
sure either I walk out, or everyone in here dies with me?" The two
black-suited men exchange glances. "Go ahead, see if I'm bluffing. These
are the Barrens, you can't bluff here. Now, you want to kill me, or you
want to talk to me? Make up your damn minds."
"...Don Bartolo, I understand you're taking territory in Fort Lewis."
"Vacant possession, so to say, and I've been infiltrating it for months.
Ever since the Bimbo took over, I've been sneaking my people in there. I
knew she'd do something stupid once she'd lost her husband, he was
always the brains of that outfit."
"The... Bimbo?"
"Minnie D. Used to be a hooker, and she was pretty good at it. Could
suck-start a Harley Davidson. Believe me, I know... that's how come she
tagged onto the Frenchman. Eric always did think with his Johnson, or
he'd never have married the gold-digging little bitch."
"You sound bitter, Don Bartolo." 'Costello' suggests.
"She was working on me. I was an up-and-comer and she figured she could
use me to get ahead. I'd pretty much persuaded myself I was in love with
her, great sex round the clock will do that to you when you're twenty.
But then she got a crack at Descabiere, he's human and higher and moving
faster, nd she dropped me like a week-old mycodog, and I got to see her
pull exactly the same number on him that she pulled on me until he
convinces himself she's the love of his life and he marries the bitch."
Bartolo does sound angry.
"So this is about revenge?"
Luigi laughs. "Are you kidding? I was jacked off at *myself* for falling
for her scam. I saw her bleed Eric white while she was with him, then
gouge him for everything he had once she decided she was done with him.
I thank God for not inflicting that bitch on me. I don't care about
payback, I just want that territory."
"There are those who'd consider that area of town to belong to them, Don
Bartolo."
"There are those who don't know what they're getting into. Look how
easily I'm taking her outfit apart and making it my own. But I'll tell
you what. How does three per cent of the net take from that region
sound?"
'Costello' sighs. "Three per cent is ungenerous, Don Bartolo."
"I do the work, take the risks, incur the costs. You just cash the
credsticks. Seems fair to me. Of course that's prelaundered."
"Ah. That does make the arrangement rather fairer. I believe ten per
cent would be more-"
"Three."
"I am not authorised to go below-"
"Then you're wasting my fragging time, jerkoff." Luigi snaps, going from
affable Mafioso to threatening immediate violence: again, both doormen
raise weapons by reflex. "Why the hell do you bozos send drekholes who
'aren't authorised'? You show disrespect like that, and you wonder why
you get burned on every deal you make round here."
Abbot and Costello exchange looks, then Abbot withdraws to have a quiet
conversation with his cellphone. While Bartolo is too far away to hear,
and Costello is engaging in polite masking small talk, the restaurant's
cameras and microphones pick up one side of the conversation perfectly.
"He's offering us three per cent, clean cred, off the net take, and...
he's a tough customer, sir, but he's dangerous. I think we want him
inside the tent pissing out... sir, he says he's planned for that and I
believe him, he strikes me as a dangerous scumbag... we can get him as
an ally, or make him our enemy, sir, and in this place he and his
organisation could hurt us. I say we take his offer... yes, sir."
Abbot returns, and this time he's polite. "Don Bartolo, I am directed to
tell you that your offer is acceptable in principle, but that we must
insist on no less than five per cent."
"Five per cent, unlaundered." Bartolo agrees.
Abbot and Costello exchange looks. "That was-"
"Three per cent if I clean it, five per cent if you wash it. Your call.
Need to phone home again?"
"...No. Five per cent, unlaundered. Acceptable."
"Good. And make sure you kill The Bimbo quickly, 'cause she's a vengeful
bitch and I could do without her on my back." Bartolo rises. "Have a
nice evening, gentlemen, I hope we don't need to meet again. Call my
accountant and tell him where to send the payments."
+++++end video
Not a bad cover story for how come I'm protecting your turf so easily,
eh? Makes it more believable that I'm just moving in to cover it without
a fight, except where a few entrepreneurs tried to beat me to it.
I'll admit I was tempted to keep it... but I'd rather have you as friend
than enemy.
I should be in simsense, though. I showed them exactly what they
expected to see, a sharp nasty Barrens hustler, and they swallowed hook
and line and sinker and tried to eat the rod too.
Upshot is... as long as you manage not to get killed, you'll have
somewhere to come home to.
Take care, Minnie. I find I'm missing your company.]<<<<<
-- Luigi Bartolo <23:01:32/22-11-61>
