A Crimson Fiat Spider slowly turned the corner to Oak Street in the middle of the morning in the late autumn. The passengers were heading to the Baldinotti Mansion, Number 18. In the back behind its tinted windows was a man in a white suit loading his Thompson 1928.

The car reached the Mansion and two guards were outside. They saw the suspicious car sitting across the street, its engine running. When they reached for their guns inside their black suits, it was too late. The Fiat’s backseat window lowered, the barrel of the Thompson peeked out and the consecutive shots ripped through them, nearly ending their lives. The back door of the Fiat was then opened and a man in a white suit stepped out, reloading his gun. Its barrel was smoking as he walked slowly towards the men's bodies, careful to not get his shiny white shoes dirty. The man bent down. "In Nomine Patris et Fili et spiritus Sancti. Amen,” he said making the sign of the cross and putting two bullets in men’s heads. The man smiled as he fixed his hat and stepped over the bodies to the twin iron doors. They made a long, unpleasant screech. The man in the white suit then looked upwards; causing his jaw to stick out from his white hat. There was a fat man on the mansion’s second floor, behind a glass wall, hurrying to close its curtains.

The man in the white suit walked slowly inside the mansion’s withered garden. The grass smell reminded him of the days he used to visit when he was a little boy. His father once ran numbers for the Baldinottis but nowadays, Davide is paying his father for protection. The trees in the courtyard were scrubs and the fountain was covered in moss. The garden was ignored, just like the fat man on the second floor. His time was nearly over. The man in the white suit stood praying outside the next set of doors, marked with a huge letter, 'B'. He took a deep breath and pushed them open, slowly stepping to the staircase. His footsteps echoed through the empty hallway as he walked up carefully with purpose. Seconds later, the man in the white suit arrived on the second floor. The property of the fat man would go to waste. Not long from now, his estate would be in rubbles with only remembrances of what he did wrong. The man looked down the corridor seeing a guard stationed. The man in the white suit let loose on the guard and now he was down, bleeding; his final gasps echoed through the hallway. The man in the white suit then stepped over the dying man and opened the door, headed to the fat man's office.

The fat man was behind his mahogany desk. With so much money on top of it, it's a shame he wouldn't enjoy it after this day. He was draped in a red silk robe the moment he reached for his gun underneath the desk. The click of the man in the white suit’s Thompson made him stop. He pointed at the fat man’s head while taking off his hat and hanging it on a nearby coat rack, revealing his dark hair and clean-shaven face. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Davide.”

"What do you want Francesco? What is all this?!" The fat man said with a heavy accent, slobbering. His face was drenched in sweat as he tried wiping it off.

"Oh, you know well what I want Davide. You broke the rules?"

"I don't know what you are talking about Francesco. I paid my share this month, didn’t I?"

"But this is not about what you paid, Davide. Let's cut the crap."

"Tell Don Luca—I've been loyal to Familia Giuliani since Sicily. You forget so easily?"

"You are the one that forgets Davide. You are the one that forgets who's been protecting you. Tell me who is protecting you?"

"Familia Giuliani ovviamente!"

"Then why were you dining with Michael Lombardi's men three nights ago?"

Francesco walked and sat. His gun pressed against Davide’s neck. Davide was pale as an albino; his eyes lit up at the mention of the name ‘Lombardi.’

"I—you know, I had a simple dinner with the guy. I’m always looking for an edge on Familia Lombardi, help you guys with their secrets, you understand, right?"

"Sabina Baldinotti, 72 Port Street New York, Fourth Floor."

"No!"

"Yes, Davide."

"You wouldn't bring my Bambina into this."

Francesco lifted his gun, making a circle all directed around the fat man's head.

"You will not leave this room and you know that. Try doing something good in respect of your family for once"

"You are a monster, Francesco! Where’s your honor?"

"Where is the honor in deceiving your partners, Davide? What did those rats offer you? Money? Whores?"

Davide tried wiping the sweat from his face once again. His heart was beating profoundly knowing he had no other choice but to confess.

"Okay, I had a little talk with them but they offered me nothing. I was only discussing -you know- safe passage for my Bambina. They're planning to take over New York Harbor. You, Giulianis, are old school, Francesco. The Lombardis are taking over New York.”

Francesco responded with a long halfhearted laugh, finding the fat man funny. All these years, Davide was nothing but a snake; a burden the Giuliani family was sheltering for nothing. All of the fat man's businesses were duds and his wife even deserted him years ago. His bodyguards left him for either jobs in the NYPD or for the Giulianis.

"So, this was all for Sabin, huh? Do you feel safe now, Davide? I'll make sure to let your daughter know that you cared for her." 

"Meaningless threats, Francesco. You can kill me now, but know the Giulianis are going down, too. Remember that."

"In Nomine Patris et Fili et Spiritus Sancti. Amen"

"You still do that shit, Francesco?"

"It's what keeps me human, Davide; forgiveness by God. I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"You a pompous bastard…"

Gunshot filled the air and the fat man fell back, not able to finish his last sentence. His brains were splattered on the wall behind his desk. A few drops drifted forward and stained Francesco's suit. He patted it lightly with his handkerchief. "In Nomine Patris…fuck. You don't deserve that kind of respect."

Francesco then headed towards the front door, after taking his hat and putting it on his head. When he reached the courtyard, two police officers came, guns drawn, feeling the dead men’s pulses. Francesco approached them smiling with open arms. 

"Jonathan! Terry!"

"Francesco. What the fuck is this?"

"You know how things go sometimes, Jonathan. We are boys. Sometimes, we play, and sometimes, we fight!"

"It's the middle of the day. Do you expect us to just let you walk away?” Officer Terry said.

"Nobody's outside? Look, the streets are empty. I’m a careful man, guys.”

"We'll have to call it in soon. And the price just doubled. This is a new level of bullshit, Francesco."

"Okay Terry, relax! I'll make sure to slip something extra for you two this month. Don’t worry!” Francesco patted both men on the cheeks.

Officer Terry phoned in the call from his police radio. "Two victims, white males, 18 Oak Street. Baldinotti Mansion. Possibly more inside. No suspect at the scene," Terry said.

"Dispatch, sending two units over," a female voice said over the receiver.

Francesco smiled and patted Terry on the cheek. 

"The family thanks you both. Good job by the way!”

"You better take care of us, Francesco,” Jonathan grumbled as he headed inside.

“Of course. I’m a man of my word.”

Francesco patted Officer Terry again who was crouching over the men outside. He then left the Mansion and headed to his car. His driver was also dressed in a white suit, reclining against the door, smoking a cigarette. The man opened the door for Francesco who got in the back seat.

"Quite a mess you made, Francesco." the driver said seeing drops of blood on his boss's suit.

“The job is done."

The driver took one last drag and then plucked his cigarette to the curbside.

It was a thirty-minute drive to the Giuliani Mansion, in suburbia of New York City. The bodyguards weren’t at the front gate when Francesco and the driver arrived which was normal for a Sunday.

"Francesco, please tell your father everything," the driver said before parking.

Francesco grunted.

The Giuliani Mansion's front entrance was well-kept. Hidden behind the trees were a small marble fountain and statues inspired by the Renaissance Period of Michelangelo.

Francesco walked towards the main gate, snubbing the salutes of the two bodyguards. One tried speaking but the door had already closed. "They are having dinner," Francesco faintly heard as he headed to the family dining room. The hazy afternoon's daylight pierced through the window's wall, combined with the sweet flickering from the fireplace, created a serene scene. The family was already having lunch at their long mahogany dining table. His beloved father Luca, mother Sofia, and not-so-friendly little brother, Manuel. They were enjoying a dish of Baccala alla Vicentina when Francesco sat and served himself, interrupting their conversation.

"Is it done, my son?" his father, Luca asked without taking his eyes from his plate.

"Yes, father. Just how we talked about," Francesco said.

"Luca, please. We have said this over and over again. No family business at the table."

"Bene Sofia. Bene. I just wanted to make sure everything was taken care of." Luca grunted as he loaded his plate with more food. For how slim the old man was, he ate a lot more than someone his age.

"And enough with the food, leave some for the children. A man your age should be more concerned with his health."

"Madre, it's ok. Let the man eat. At his age, it will be the last thing he'll think about," Manuel chuckled. Sofia looked at him with a threatening look; a stare everyone in the family feared.

"You should be ashamed, Manuel! Talking to father like that."

"Why do you care Francesco?"

"You have a big mouth for a seventeen-year-old. Show some respect. This is our father!"

"Like you would know. You are never around Francesco!"

"Yet, I still respect father more than you."

Manuel continued arguing with his big brother but was interrupted by Luca. "Enough! Can an old man eat in peace? Finish your dinner, we'll talk afterward, Francesco."

Sofia sighed.

The family kept eating without talking; only the sounds of utensils echoed in the room.

Not long after, Manuel went to his room while Sofia cleared the table. "Would you like a glass of wine, my love?"

Luca nodded wiping his lips with his towel.

Sofia left the room with a bin of dirty dishes.

Luca sat back in his seat and turned towards Francesco. "So, my son?"

"I did as you told me. Davide was at the mansion. Everyone was gone even most of his bodyguards."

"Most?"

"Yes, father. There were two at the front gate and one outside his office."

"Those old-timers are still loyal, huh?”

"Yeah, but it wasn't a problem, father. I took care of it."

"How is my dear old confrere, Davide doing anyway?"

"He seemed a little tense, father. When I left, he was resting in peace."

"Bene. Bene. So, what was this meeting with Lombardis about anyway? What business does he have with them?"

The conversation was interrupted by Sofia entering the room with a salver with crystal glasses of wine. She carefully placed one in front of Luca and then Francesco. She then took a seat next to her husband.

"Sofia. This is important. Why don't you go help in the kitchen or with Manuel?"

"I'm part of this business too, Luca. You'd be lost without me."

Luca smiled, knowing she was telling him the truth. Sofia took a sip, walked away, and then came back.

"Now what were you saying? What did I miss?"

"Nothing, sweetheart. Now, back to what you were saying, son." Luca sipped his wine.

"Davide said something about the Lombardis trying to take control of New York Harbor."

"From us?"

"That's what he said before he met his creator."

"That fat man can't be trusted even on his deathbed," Sofia said.

"Sofia, please. Davide is a made man. Show some respect for the dead for God's sake."

Sofia made the sign of the cross and Francesco chuckled. Luca looked a bit concerned.

"I didn't expect the Lombardis to do something like this. Francesco, tomorrow, head to the Harbor and talk with Elias. We need to find out what's the truth."

"What if the Lombardis already flipped him?"

"Remind him how he became a supervisor. Remind him what the Giulianis did for him."

The three sat in silence savoring their glassesful of Barolo.

Francesco got up first. "I'm going to take a snooze. Tomorrow's a big day, father and mother."

Sofia and Luca nodded.

Francesco headed to his room but he noticed Manuel on the balcony, facing the garden. Francesco strolled quietly behind him seeing cigarette smoke.

"That's a nasty habit," Francesco said.

Manuel turned around shocked he was caught. "Yeah, whatever."

"You should be careful when Mom and Dad are awake."

"Why do you care?"

"I'm your big brother Manuel. I do."

"That's new."

Francesco mused not knowing how to respond. The noise of Manuel exhaling was irritating Francesco.

"So, you're upset about earlier, I get that."

"So?"

"Do as you want, Manuel. Just don't get caught by mother. She wouldn't like that."

"I won't."

Francesco stood attempting to intimidate Manuel and his younger brother wouldn't budge. Francesco sighed and then left. Tomorrow, he had family business to take care of.

The sunlight, found its way through the half-closed shutters, pointing directly at the young woman’s face. She opened her eyes and stretched slowly across her silk sheets. The woman woke up before the alarm, as usual, and sat up. Her family’s maids have already cleaned her room. She stretched again and sleepily headed towards the bathroom. Now, her morning routine started.

The young woman brushed her teeth and spent at least 20 minutes brushing her long black hair. Afterward, she put on a little makeup and quickly got dressed. She headed downstairs to the smell of eggs and bacon filling her nostrils; her mouth was watering. The woman entered the dining room and one of the maids was there, unfolding and laying out the tablecloths.

"Good morning, Miss Jessica. The usual?" the maid said. Jessica nodded and grabbed a seat on the far-right corner of the table.

"Yes, Maria. Thank you,” she yawned as she placed her head against the table, wanting so badly to sleep but she had work to do."Oh, and please bring me coffee,” she moaned, the sound of her voice was stifled by the table.

"Yes, Miss Jessica. Right away."

The maid came back carrying a salver with a plate of fried eggs, bacon, a glass of orange juice, and coffee. She set the plate down and quickly left the room after she bowed. Jessica didn't notice because her face was still on the table, half asleep. She lifted her head moments later and started eating.

Minutes later, the dining room door opened and an older woman came in. "Good morning my love! How come you’re awake so early?" the woman said grabbing a seat next to Jessica.

"I couldn't sleep well, Mama. Again!”

“Again? We should find out about those sleep problems of yours."

"I'm used to it, Mama."

"You are working too hard these days, my daughter.“

"The business isn't going to run itself, Mom."

"It's been only a few weeks since you came back. You should get some rest."

"I've rested enough back in Italy. It's time for work."

"Let your father and brother worry about that, sweetie. Too much work is not good for my little one."

"Well, I didn't get a law school degree for nothing. I have to do something with it."

Their conversation was interrupted as the maid entered.

"Good morning, Miss Christina.”

"Good morning, Maria! Please bring me a cup of coffee. I'll have breakfast later."

"Yes, Donna." The maid left.

"So, Degree or not, you are working too much. You're not twenty-one anymore. Enjoy some things in life."

"Mom, I swear, if this is another talk about me closing the door to motherhood, I will flip out."

"Oh sweetie, I don't mean to meddle but it's been almost five years since…you know."

"Out of all days!? It's 8 o’clock, Mama. For Dio’s sake, let me enjoy my breakfast first."

Christina was shaken by her daughter's words. She reclined in her chair as silence overcame her. That silence was broken when the maid brought back Christina’s coffee.

"There you go, Donna," the maid said.

Just two women sitting in the room and no one knew what to say next. Jessica finished up quickly and started leaving. "Tell Papa, I'm heading to the Harbor in a bit." Jessica closed the door to the dining room behind her, not waiting for her mother's reply.

Jessica got dressed and after thirty minutes, was in the driveway, waiting for the family driver to pull up. A black Cadillac Town Sedan pulled up and the driver; a man in his sixties dressed in a black suit, pulled down the windows smiling. He nodded and Jessica got up front.

"Where to this morning, Miss Jessica?"

"To the New York Harbor, please," she said calmly looking out the window, still thinking about the conversation with her mother.

“Si, Donna Jessica,” The driver said revving up the engine.

It was an hour’s drive to New York Harbor and traffic was busy for this Friday morning. Jessica was not in the mood for small talk. She turned on the radio just to clear the air of the unbearable silence. She looked out the window as they passed by the city, seeing people heading for their normal jobs.

The driver cleared his throat. "So, how’s your morning going, Miss Jessica?"

"Normal, I'd say."

"I heard you had a fight with your mother."

"Is there anything in our house that stays inside?”

"You'll have to blame Signora Maria for that."

"Well, it's none of your business, Paul.“

"I heard you were really hard on your mother, Miss Jessica."

"What else have you heard, Paul? Don't tell me how to behave, you’re not my father."

"I've been in this household for so long, Miss Jessica. I’ve practically fathered you as well."

"Practically. But you didn't. If you want to keep working for my family, please continue doing your job only."

Jessica turned up the radio's volume making any further conversation nearly impossible. The driver had a bitter smile.

"Don't pout, it's not good for the skin," Paul joked.

The radio’s volume was up high enough for Jessica to miss his remark.

They reached New York Harbor after a long hour’s wait in traffic.

"I'll be out in a couple of hours. Pick me up at noon sharp," Jessica said slamming the door.

“Si, Signora.”

Jessica walked toward the main gate and the driver sped off avoiding the crowd of port workers. The smell of the harbor's sea filled her nostrils and the sun was blinding her. She covered her eyes with her hand as she pulled out sunglasses from her purse. The port was buzzing with noises and yelling.

"How can these people even work here?” Jessica muttered. She tried ignoring her intuitions and blocked out everything around her.

She walked through the tough-looking workers but were ordinary human beings working hard to make a living.

Out of nowhere, a stunning young Italian lady was now the center of attention. Jessica liked the eyes on her but to an extent. These men couldn't offer her something she didn't already have. The only reason for being here was the task at hand.

Jessica strolled to Pier 10A, where Elias, the port supervisor was stationed. The buzzing of the vehicles was giving Jessica a headache. She was already sick of this place. The smell of the sea mixed with the strong scent of petrol and fumes from the ships docking was annoying. She avoided the puddles inside the broken concrete from last night’s rain. When Jessica reached Pier 10A, she disguised her disgust and changed her mood to a smile, like a teenage girl going on a field trip. It was all part of the business.

"Come in."

Jessica entered, wearing sunglasses. She never met Elias. Before her, was an old man dressed in a green sweater. His tiny glasses made his nose seem so big.

“Good morning! What a wonderful day isn't it?" Jessica said.

“Yes, indeed. How can I help you, young lady?"

"Elias, right?"

"How did you know, Miss?"

“Well, I’m Jessica and it's a pleasure to finally meet you, sir.“

"Are you with the Giulianis? Did they hire you as the new bookkeeper?"

"Hahaha, no, no Elias. On the contrary. I'm Jessica Lombardi."

Elias gulped.

"I'm here to discuss some family business with you. Just need a few minutes of your time,” Jessica said playfully taking off her sunglasses and putting them on Elias’s desk. Elias was shocked by this young woman's demeanor.

“How—may I help you?"

"You can start by telling me this. What do the Giulianis want from you?

"I don't work for the Giulianis, young woman. You must be mistaken."

Jessica smiled and approached Elias from behind. She wrapped her arms around his skinny neck. "Come on, Elias. Are you not going to tell me?" Jessica said seductively in Elias' ear. She touched his chest feeling his heart racing.

"What are you doing?! I’m a married man!”

Jessica returned to her chair.

"Ok Elias, I tried the easy way, but let's cut the bullshit. I know you work for the Giulianis and they’re moving through your harbor so easily that even the homeless can't ignore them. What are they paying you?"

“I told you, I'm not getting paid by anyone. I’m a hardworking man. Been here for thirty years and am about to retire.”

"Loyalty, an admirable trait for a man with such time in. Should I mention to our good policemen about this little operation of yours down here? One inspection and your entire career will disappear. You'll get buried and that sweet little pension of yours will go bye-bye.” Jessica smirked. “So, you what do they have on you? Tell me and maybe we could help."

“I—” Elias stuttered. "I knew this was a bad idea. Fuck!”

“So they are blackmailing you? Let us make it go away forever, Elias.“

"You can't. I'll lose my job—lose everything."

"What about your honor, your life, your children?”

"You wouldn't!" Elias said.

"We wouldn't if you were a little more cooperative, Mr. Elias. I'm trying to make you a deal, good for everyone.”

"Not for the Giulianis."

"Yeah, not for the Giulianis. So, what do they have on—”

Jessica couldn't finish her sentence as the door suddenly opened. A man dressed in a white suit entered wearing a white hat. His Italian suit was very expensive and his face was covered by his long hat. He raised his head, staring first at Elias, but quickly turned towards Jessica. His gaze lasted seconds which seemed like decades.

The man then looked back at Elias as if he was waiting for an explanation. Meanwhile, Jessica was ready to continue negotiating but was interrupted.

"This is Jessica, representing the Lombardi family," Elias said quickly as Jessica took her eyes from the man in the suit and looked at Elias. "

I can introduce myself, Mr. Elias, thank you." Jessica turned towards the man in the white suit. “I’m Jessica Lombardi and you are interrupting a very important meeting here."

The man's eyes widened at the family’s name as he smiled. Jessica wanted to slap that grin off of his face. There was a confidence in him that she hadn't seen except for the mafia bosses who entered her father’s home.

The man took off his hat and bowed. "How fortunate! I’m representing Mister Elias and came here to resolve an important matter. I'm Francesco Giuliani. It's a pleasure to meet you, Jessica.” The man then sat alongside Jessica. "Now, get me caught up.”

It was almost 11 pm on a Thursday. It was storming; the biggest in the past few months. The windows were rattling and Quantico’s building was nearly empty all but a few agents working overtime; lifeless losers with no family waiting for them at home.

On the third floor of the building, there was a single light on with a man staring at a huge pile of files lost in thought. After all these years, there was not a single thread to pull and unravel the ball of yarn of this one special agent. Welcoming the tipsy, the man was focused on a half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of him. Just hours ago, it was sealed tight. The agent adjusted his tie, wiped the sweat off his forehead, and grabbed another file. "Another piece of useless crap," he said as he checked his watch. 23:25. Another day wasted.

The agent got up and grabbed his trench coat which was wet from when he went outside to take a smoke break. It would take days for it to dry as the rain didn't appear to want to stop anytime soon. He put the whiskey bottle inside his drawer along with the glass and grabbed his umbrella. The files he left laying around. He'd deal with them tomorrow. It wasn't like the agent was making progress anyway. The man turned off the light and started walking towards the exit. His telephone rang, echoing through the corridor. The agent told himself it could wait, it was already way past his bedtime.

The phone kept ringing and the agent sighed, dropping his umbrella.

"Thomas Miller. Who is it?”

"Sir, it’s me! I’m calling from New York.”

"Do you know what time it is, Agent?”

"I do sir but this couldn’t wait.”

"What is it?”

"It’s the mob, sir. Davide Baldinotti was executed.”

Thomas paused on the word ‘execution’ taking a deep breath.

"Do we have suspects?”

"No, sir. The usuals are who we are looking at.”

“The Italians again, huh? Ok, I’ll be there right away.”

Thomas Miller hung up before hearing what the caller had to additionally say and sat back at his desk. He opened his drawer again and filled his glass with another round of whiskey. “Of course, it’s the Italians,” he mumbled as he galloped a glass in one shot. He then got up, took his umbrella, and left Quantico, going directly to the airport.

Agent Thomas Miller arrived in New York at midday Friday, the day after Davide's death. The gruff-looking agent skipped the escort and took a taxi to the Baldinotti Mansion. Thomas grabbed his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his forehead. The heat was unbearable. The AC inside the taxi wasn't working and the ride was taking way too long. Thomas kept tapping his leg and his mouth was dry. He was excited to finally catch a break on some real police work.

The taxi reached the Baldinotti mansion rather quickly which was surrounded by yellow police ribbons. Two police officers were on the scene outside the front entrance.

"Good morning. Special Agent Thomas Miller with the FBI." Thomas took out his badge from his trench coat. "What happened here?”

"Davide Baldinotti was executed yesterday.”

"Anyone else?”

"Three, two killed outside and one inside.”

"May I take a look?”

The officer didn’t answer; just extended his arm, while moving out of Agent Miller's way. aside. Thomas reached for his cigarettes inside his trench coat finding they were soaked. He pushed a little with his finger until he found one that was dry and lit it up. He crossed the courtyard of the Baldinotti Mansion smelling the freshly-cut grass. It was an annoying smell to the veteran agent. Thomas made a few rounds in the yard looking at the ground; inspecting every detail. Crouching, he found something of interest; a fresh footprint on dirt distinguished from the others. He turned towards the officers still processing the scent.

"I have something over here. Bring a flag here and take a picture for me.”

"The forensics guys left hours ago," a detective yelled.

"Fuck!” Agent Miller dropped his wet cigarette next to the footprint. He stood up, wiped his hands, and headed inside. The place was empty and the Baldinotti’s heirs will sell it once the investigation is over. Thomas had seen this scene play out before. A family rarely lives in the house of the deceased in murder cases.

Thomas reached the second floor and spotted a pool of blood outside Davide's office. That must be where the guard was killed. The door had bullet holes and the casings were removed, and taken back for evidence at the nearest headquarters. Thomas pushed the door and saw a fallen chair, where the brain traces of Davide was splattered. This was a premeditated murder. This has the fingerprints of a mob hit from one of the big Five. The Baldinottis were feared in New York City. If Davide was afraid to pull his gun, it must have been someone he knew.

Thomas crouched above a pool of blood and the smell of decay was masked, thankfully, by his cigarette smoke. He took a long drag. There were clues all over the place but nothing solid enough to stick. It reminded him of a normal crime scene where the murderer intends to leave clues for a reason. Why did they kill Davide? Did he try to undercut someone?

Agent Miller picked up the phone in Davide’s office and dialed.

"New York’s 5th Police Department, how may I help you?”

"Thomas Miller, FBI. Badge Number 7238. Put me through to Agent Garcia.”

"Yes, Agent Miller.”

A few seconds later.

"Hello?”

"Garcia, it’s me, Thomas. I’m at the Baldinotti crime scene.”

"You’ve arrived already, sir? Did you find anything?”

"It seems like the idiots took everything over here. Not much left to see.”

"They took the victims, sir, and brought them here to the morgue yesterday afternoon.”

"I don’t care about that. I want to talk to the police officers who were the first on the scene.”

"Give me a moment, sir…” Agent Garcia put the line on hold. “Okay, so we have officers Jonathan Howards and Terry Wood, sir. They were in the neighborhood around that time and called it in.”

"I wanted a copy of that damn police report on my desk when I get in. Where the hell’s my office anyway?”

"You have one, sir. I made sure they gave you a good one this time.”

"Good. I want you down there and make sure these rookies catalog everything. There's a fresh footprint outside the Mansion they missed.”

"Ok, sir. Should I tell Howards and Wood to prepare to be debriefed?”

"No. Let them be for now. I want to catch them off-guard. And please, don’t ask about their police reports yet.”

“Ok, sir. I’m on it.”

Agent Miller hung up sighing while putting out his cigarette bud in Davide's ashtray.

He left the scene with no solid leads; only an unknown footprint and two officers who probably know nothing.

Nevertheless, Agent Thomas Miller was willing to get to the bottom of this.

Francesco made sure he was close enough to see this girl who calls herself a Lombardi and Elias’ desk separated the two. He took off his hat and dropped it on Elias’ desk. He couldn’t stop looking at the daughter of Michael Lombardi wondering why he didn’t know Michael had a daughter. Francesco knew the older Lombardi sibling, Giovanni, but had never seen this girl around town. If a girl this pretty was messing with his business behind his back, Francesco would have noticed, but it seems as if he had just become aware. "This girl was raised in Italy," he thought. She's bold and beautiful, but here in New York, she's only an exotic piece of Italian ass. His mind was overtaken by all these thoughts as he stared at her. No talk for a long period until Jessica decided to begin.

"So, Mister...” she said trying to remember his name, "Francesco, right?”

"That’s right,” Francesco nodded.

"Are you Mr. Elias’ lawyer?” she asked with a pompous smile.

Francesco laughed like wind gusts leaving his lungs out of surprise. "No, no. Nothing like that, my dear. I’m more of a counselor."

Jessica couldn’t believe this man's ego. He looks like a petty gangster who thinks he's above everyone else. "Counselor, you say? What kind of counselor if you don’t mind me asking."

"Let’s say... life counselor. I advise him on decisions that would make his life better” Francesco said smirking. Jessica paused finding his wit kind of cute even though he acted like a conman.

"Well then. I don’t think you should be present during our business dealing, Mr. Francesco. It’s not good business.”

Elias had a frightened look as he turned to Francesco who wasn’t concentrating on him. His eyes were pinned on this Lombardi girl. He couldn’t take his gaze off her. The room turned black in his thoughts. This tough young woman is fascinating. "Well, I think I'm where I'm supposed to be. Don’t you agree, Elias?”

"Yes of course.” the old man stuttered.

"See? My client wants me here as well. For God's sake, I'm his adviser after all.”

Jessica stood up, realizing she had nothing else to say. She knew Elias was in Giulianis’ back pocket and had missed her chance. This idiot of a gangster was pulling his strings just at the right time after the death of Davide. The New York Harbor might have to wait until that Giuliani egotistical bullshit is permanently wiped out for good.

"Well, unfortunately, you came right when we were finished.”

"Is that so? Because I thought I heard you still talking when I came inside.”

"Yes, we will not be able to find common ground on a deal, so I will visit Mister Elias some other time with a better offer.” She looked at Elias and he lowered his head, staring at the ground.

"Elias, don’t let this young lady scare you. After all, I made you who you are today. I’m here to help you out. You are like family to me, old man.” Francesco said not looking at him. His eyes were focused on the Lombardi girl.

"You should feel lucky, Elias for having such a certified counselor like Mr. Francesco. I’d pay a lot of money for someone so caring to his clients." She didn’t look at Elias either. Francesco and Jessica were side-talking one another.

The old man opened his mouth but he was quickly interrupted by Francesco. "By the way, Jessica, you could hire me as your counsel. If you have issues that require a man's touch, you know what I mean?” Francesco teased Jessica, grabbing his hat and covering his head.

"Well, that depends on the price, Mr. Francesco. I’m a lowly lawyer trying to make a living.” Their dialogue was theatrical. Both pretending and speaking with hints of mockery. It was all in an attempt to outsmart each other, in the presence of poor Elias, who was sitting in his chair, silent and spectating.

Finally, Jessica was ready to leave. She grabbed her purse. "I should get going.”

"Elias, you don’t need anything else, right?” Francesco asked and Elias moved his head left and right.

"I will walk you outside, Miss Jessica." Jessica was disgusted, tired of his flattery, as she headed towards the exit.

Francesco followed her to the steps of the entrance. It was almost 11 AM and the sun was already blazing. After a few minutes outside and both were sweaty. The stench of the seawater was completely devoured by the smell of petrol and fish. Francesco watched Jessica as she waited for him to say something.

"What do you drink?”

"It’s 11 am. What is wrong with you?”

"A glass of wine helps move the day forward, doesn’t it?”

"Wine? Ugh. If you are going to drink, at least drink something decent.”

"Decent? Like the shitty whiskeys, the Irish sell around here?”

"No, like Gin that they sell around here.”

"You've got to be kidding me. Gin?”

"Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

"It tastes like piss.”

"Not everyone has a taste for the fine things, Francesco, that’s life.”

"Well, you haven’t tried fine things yet but I will introduce you. I know a good Italian pub nearby. Come join me so we can talk... about business?”

Was this Italian man hitting on her or was he just trying to gather as much as he can on the Lombardis? Either way, Jessica was prepared and viewed it as an opportunity to get as much information on the Giulianis as she can. Jessica wouldn't like his company, or that’s what she kept telling herself. The man was conceited and flamboyant. But, what if he didn't have anything to offer, what would happen next? This is what baffled Jessica; the unknown with this cocky mobster. She fixed her sunglasses and turned towards the dock. "Ok, I guess. Why not?”

Francesco wasn't asking her out but this came about so naturally that it surprised him. How did the conversation end up here? Now, they're about to go drinking at 11 in the morning? Francesco couldn’t take his offer back now. Not that he wanted to, but Francesco was making up an excuse in his head why he should. He told himself he'd go out with her only to learn more about the deal the Lombardis wanted with Elias. The charm he believed would convince her to tell him everything.

"Follow me,” he said smiling as the two walked off.

For fifteen minutes in the blazing sun, they walked until they reached their destination. During the walk, they remained silent while their minds strategized; each devising the perfect plan for extorting information from one other. It was amusing, nevertheless.

Now, they were outside an old, dusty pub whose sign outside read, "Open from 8 am to 11 pm." There were still chairs stacked on top of the tables. The wooden sign outside gave an old feeling to it. The words written in Italian on the top of the sign read, ‘Castello di Vino’, meaning the Castle of Wine.

Jessica gave way for Francesco to lead the way. She stopped for a moment. Was this really a pub? It looks so old. Is he setting me up? Francesco turned around troubled by Jessica’s halt. "Is everything ok, my dear?”

"Yeah, it’s just...It looks like someone's torture chamber." Francesco laughed like someone who was snorting cocaine.

"What? Why are you laughing?” Jessica was annoyed by Francesco’s childish attitude.

"Dear, if I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have left that port in one piece or maybe pieces. Hey, let's just say it's a little bit traditional. Relax.” He headed inside and for some reason, his words were calming to Jessica. Any normal person would have freaked out, but she found the truth behind his statements even if she didn’t find it ok. It was how smooth Giuliani’s words were. That was the world these two mobsters chose to live in. A world where you should always look over your shoulder. Despite her reservations, Jessica followed Francesco inside.

Entering, she tasted the fresh smell of wine entering her throat. It was a very sweet and familiar aroma that reminded her of back home in Italy. All her negative feelings evaporated as she walked further inside. The place was dusty, with just a few glimpses of light piercing, creating a dark ambiance. But this was not a torture room. It looked more like a drug shop. Francesco went to the bar and grabbed a stool. Jessica stayed still, examining the place which was traditionally designed. There were wooden barrels on the walls and stained glass windows, and instead of conventional lighting, it had big chandeliers hanging. There was a piano at the end, with a big cello by its side. The pub looked as if it belonged in another era. It was so beautiful to find something this unique in the center of New York.

The keeper stood behind the bar waiting. The moment he saw Francesco, he hastily tried fixing his messy black hair and white shirt. The man was clean-shaven and appeared to be in his forties. His image resembled a bartender in the medieval period with his choice of clothing.

"Signore Francesco! Che piacevole sorpressa! It’s been a while since you visited Castello.”

"Ciao Federico! It’s been a while indeed.”

"E questa la tua ragazza?” the man asked.

"No, Sono una amica!” Jessica hissed. "She's Italian, Federico, and no, she isn't my girlfriend,” Francesco laughed loudly. Federico lowered his head, embarrassed. He pretended to clean a wine glass. "This is Miss Jessica Lombardi.” Jessica was smiling, waiting to see the owner’s reaction but on guard, just in case she was being set up. Federico widened his eyes and his mouth was opened to his surprise. The man couldn't even contain his thoughts as he looked at Francesco and then back at Jessica, back and forth.

"Maria Vergine! This is something I never expected to see in my entire life." He wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Jessica and Francesco looked at each other, laughing at Federico’s comment. The whole thing felt like a rehearsed prank, but it wasn’t. At this moment, these two had forgotten about their plans for their respective families. They were about to have a good time, staring at each other with all these customs passing through their minds. One stare lasted more than typical; a friendly one and they were lost in its moment.

The long stare was interrupted by Federico’s voice. "Cosa ti va da bere signorina?” "A gin with tonic would be fine,” Jessica said as she took her eyes off Francesco, acting as if she was looking for something inside her purse.

"Gin? We have the best wine in New York and you chose gin?” Federico stuttered as he grabbed a bottle of gin below the bar's counter.

"I don’t like wine.” Jessica closed her purse and Federico became suspicious.

"How can someone who's Italian not enjoy vino?” Federico poured the gin into a crystal glass.

"Don’t mind her Federico, some of us don’t have great taste.” Jessica ignored Francesco, looking at the place’s design. "I’ll take the usual.” Francesco sat on the wooden stool as Federico had first served the drinks before carrying a few tables out front for them to sit. The area inside the pub's center was more comfortable and welcoming.

Francesco turned towards Jessica with his glass of wine raised. "A toast, before we discuss business." Jessica raised her glass of gin. "A toast then,” she said calmly, almost matching his tone.

"To our family businesses!”

"To the Lombardis then!”

"I was thinking the Giulianis but yes, to the Giulianis as well!”

"By the end of the year, the Lombardis will run New York, you know that, right?”

"Oh, I’m not so sure about that but only time will tell.”

"Do you want to place a wager?”

"Betting on such things would be considered theft. I don’t want to take your money.”

"Oh! Where does that certainty come from?”

"Let’s say I have faith in my family's business.”

A small pause followed as they took sips. Francesco put his glass on the bar's counter and came back over.

"How come I’ve never seen you around? A pretty Lombardi girl, messing around with my Giuliani business, I’m sure I’d have noticed.”

"I was out of town for the past ten years.”

"Out of town? Where were you? If I may ask.”

"Italy, Rome.”

"Back home?”

"Yes, I wanted to do something with my life. I wanted to help our family, so I got my degree there in law.”

"A woman of business and educated. That is rather impressive I must say.”

"What about you Francesco? Have you spent all your life here?”

"Admittedly, yes. I don’t travel to Italy a lot. Born and raised here in New York. But I have brought our family business to its peak.”

"Oh? How so? Do you have a degree in marketing?”

"You're funny. No, I’ve learned the business the hard way. But, unlike you, I know exactly how these partnerships work.”

"Maybe, you are underestimating me, Francesco.”

"But I am not. Today’s accomplishments speak for themselves. We retained the Harbor while your family got nothing in return!”

Jessica turned and took a sip of her drink. She tried holding her smile but it was difficult. Now, she realized Davide, on his death decided to talk. That's how Francesco was able to control Elias and maintain his family's interests at the Harbor. All this young woman had to do was to keep Francesco talking. She was almost finished with her gin when turned back to Francesco putting on a fake look of sorrow.

Francesco hadn't realized his mistake of talking too much. He was amused by Jessica’s look and suspected she was faking. Yet, Francesco continue to smile as he ordered more wine. The word "Triumph” was written all over Francesco Giuliani’s face.

"It’s ok, Jessica. Next time.”

"I’m new to the business and still learning the ropes. What can I say?”

"One step at a time, my dear. One day, maybe, and just maybe, the Lombardis will reach the Giulianis.”

Jessica nodded softly drinking the last of her gin. All she needed to do was to leave this arrogant capo feeling victorious, so she got up suddenly. "Thanks for the drink but I think we’ll have to reschedule this little meeting of ours to another time,” she said looking at her watch.

"Why the sudden rush to leave?” Jessica smiled as she went between the tables and chairs looking backward.

"I have to take care of something. You know some family business." She passed by Federico standing over by the entrance. "Nice meeting you, Federico.”

"Nice meeting you too, Signorina Jessica,” Federico said bowing slightly.

Francesco sat alone, in his hand was a glass of wine half-full as he looked at Federico confused. Federico just shrugged, scratching his half-bald head. Francesco didn’t expect the Lombardi girl to leave just like that. He learned zero from her. Yet these few moments away from the job made him smile. He finished his wine as calmly as can. The young Italian enforcer was rising in rank within New York's mafia circles but on the inside, he needed something from this cute Lombardi girl. He ought to know more and was determined to meet her again.

Special Agent Thomas Miller walked through the crowds of the streets of New York, heading towards the 5th Police Precinct. He left Quantico in a hurry, leaving behind his favorite sunglasses and umbrella. Thomas opened his pack of cigarettes, finding a single one crumbled at the bottom. He moaned throwing the packet in the street. At the nearest street vendor, he grabbed today’s newspaper and stood in line. On the front page, there was no mention of Davide Baldinotti's killing. Agent Miller was relieved, the last thing he wanted was the media distorting the facts of his case to the public. They inaccurately botched a few of his cases in court because of leaking.

"Hey, bud! Give me a pack of cigarettes and a cup of coffee. Here’s the money for paper and keep the change.”

“Thanks, sir. Coming right up."

Agent Miller set off to the police precinct, overlooking everything around him from the traffic, Chinese storefronts, and taxi drivers beeping their horns. All he wanted was to enjoy his hot coffee and a cigarette before being briefed on today's hodgepodge.

Twenty minutes passed by and Agent Miller arrived at the discolored police precinct known as #7. The walls outside were painted by car fumes. Seeing its dirty windows and fat cops coming out every minute or so, Thomas Miller felt lucky he was working at Quantico. He walked slowly inside. The precinct was in chaos; officers shouting, phones ringing and one criminal tried to escape. The cops beat the man down and he was hauled back into the cell by three police officers.

Thomas walked to the reception, and a young blonde lady was there talking on the phone. She lifted her hand, requesting for Thomas to wait. She was covering her mouth but Thomas still heard her conversation.

"Yes, sweetie. Of course, I'll cook for you today." The young woman said playing with her hair. "Oh, you're such a charmer."

Thomas rolled his eyes and placed his hands on her desk. The woman knew the man was growing impatient. "I have to go, sweetie, talk to you later." She hung up and quickly shifted to Agent Miller.

"How can I help you?"

"Was that a professional call, Miss—Claire?" Thomas leaned in reading her name tag.

"Hmm, why is that your concern?”

"Thomas Miller, FBI. We spoke earlier," Thomas said, showing her his badge.

"I am so sorry, Agent. I didn't know it was you. I—“

"I don't care Claire about your love life, sweetie. I'm here for one reason." He lifted his hand signaling her to hush.

"I’m here to lead the investigation into the murder of Davide Baldinotti. Now, where is my desk?"

"Next to the interrogation room on the left, Agent Miller. Captain Hughes was briefed on your arrival this morning."

"By the way, is he around?”

"No, sir. He called out sick today.”

"Where can I find Officer Woods?”

"He called out sick, sir, too,” Claire said after going through the morning call-outs.

Thomas rubbed his eyes, sighing.

"For God's sake, does anyone work around here? At least, tell me where is Officer Howards?"

"I think I saw him going down to the canteen a few minutes ago, sir."

Thomas left without saying anything further. As a chronic smoker, the precinct's cigarette odor made him nauseous. Covering his face, he entered the canteen, where the reek was even worse. The sound of cutlery clanking, sloppy food workers yelling and the loud talking of the officers were irritating. Most of the ruckus was coming from five officers at a table. Thomas' eyes watered from the smoke which seemed to cover every square inch of the room. Even the sunlight coming from the windows couldn't pierce its thick veil.

"Jonathan Howards,” Agent Miller shouted.

Every policeman and woman in the lunchroom turned towards Agent Miller. "That's me, bud,“ Jonathan yelled from the back table. "Can I help ya, pal?

"Come with me, please."

Thomas turned his back and started heading for the exit.

"Why would I go with you? I’m in the middle of my breakfast.“

"Thomas Miller, FBI."

"Where's your badge, pal?"

"You have 30 seconds to move your ass to the interrogation room, or I'll be the one dragging it."

Jonathan stood there for a second. He was confused but obeyed the ranking officer and followed. Thomas opened his makeshift office seeing the mess left behind; stacked-up boxes with files thrown over all. Thomas' shoes were covered in dust as he made his way behind an old iron desk. Above, were the files of Officers Howards and Wood and some evidence taken from the Baldinotti crime scene. Thomas rubbed his eyes and opened Jonathan's. He spent 45 minutes nearly looking over the reports while Howards waited in the interrogation room vexed.

Officer Howards reached the scene at 10:05 am along with Officer Wood. They were patrolling the neighborhood when they came upon two dead guards in the front and immediately called it in. They didn't wait for backup. Then, they headed to the second floor where they found a third guard and Davide's body. After that, they immediately headed back to the precinct and filed their report at 10:45 am. Howards' report nearly matched Wood's.

Agent Miller kept reading the report over and over feeling something wasn't right. His thoughts were interrupted by a light knock on the door.

"Come in."

Inside, a woman in her thirties with brunette hair came holding an envelope. Agent Miller slowly raised his head.