Tuesday, December 20, 2011


Today I finally went to meet with Capo.

 Not as Rachael of course. Rachael is not someone I wish to expose to him. To them.

My identity is fragile enough I do not wish to become a target in this war.


Frank Russo is not young anymore. He's in his 30's, now. Some would call him a punk but he's a calculating man. Frank knew that a man like him, someone who has been thrown out of school for cheating and violence had few options. To get ahead, his only option was to go underground.  Frank was on a prolific spree of crimes of all sorts years ago but went dark as the heat got harder on him.

Frank still has some contacts in the city, enough to get him into the hearing of a crime boss turned agent. Capo could use a man with as few scruples as Frank for jobs he does not wish to associate himself with. Frank's record is good, and the cities lawmen have long forgotten about him. Especially out in Union City, a city with more people per mile than Manhattan. History chokes on the new bodies every day.

I figured I might as well use one of Maurice's from back in the day. I could not simply waltz into Capo's workplace the way I did to Tony. This plan would take finesse, planning.

Frank had a meeting. He was no barbarian. An old ally of Capo (now dead, though no one knew yet) had set up the meeting for a cash offering from his lovely sister, worried about her brothers recent involvement with the Eastern Europeans.

Frank strolled into the meeting. He was searched for weapons, and none were found. My breasts were bound, my hair in a slick ponytail, dyed black. I wore a black leather jacket with a black button down, and black slacks. formal, but not in a cowtowing way. Frank had respect for Capo, and for himself.

Capo was waiting for me inside a small restaurant, far from the famous new high rises. The rehab of Union City had not reached this part of town yet. The lights were low, lit only by overhead fixtures even on a sunny afternoon like this.

Capo struck me as the sort of man who could gain weight in his line of work. The kind of man who grew fat, not out of gluttony or greed, but out of the lack of fear. A man who could go gray, not from stress, but from aging into a violent lifetime. He was a man who had found himself a place in this world and believed himself capable of holding himself exactly there. He seemed the kind of man with no ambition, but no sloth. A man who would excel at keeping an organization like this together. But not the leader, never the leader.

A challenging opponent, perhaps. But I was confident in my disguise and my secret weapon. I was immersed in my role. I had plans, machinations.

He waved me lazily with one hand and a coy half grin.   On either side of him, two gentlemen in suits, in addition to the two that had welcomed me.

"Welcome, welcome. Please, have a seat. Wine?"

I sat down in the proffered chair, but politely refused his offer for wine. Frank never drank when there was business. Capo crossed his hands and leaned forward.

"Come now, Rachael, I've never known you to turn down a man before."