Yes, Loan sharks, all of them. When people didn’t pay on time, they were killed. Killed without one single twinge of conscience. Without remorse. Without regret. Without guilt. And as the boss explained, they’d finally killed one guy too many ? a big-time loan shark. Bruno wasn’t surprised they were trying to pull a stunt like this. The guys from the south side didn’t like the Italian the mob. Everywhere, fingers of blame were being pointed. Apparently, the hard evidence linked only to one man. “Where was the body recovered?”
Castillo shook his head. “The dumb ass Mexicans killed him in one of their social clubs. Then, took him out back, cut him up, slit him down the middle Mexican Style so that he wouldn’t float and tossed him in the river. But the dumb asses forgot to puncture the lungs and the body floated.”
“So why’d you call me here. If you didn’t intend to tell me?”
Castillo glanced at the clock, and Bruno followed his gaze…. a quarter past two a.m. “I called you here because I will be arrested this morning. Forty-eight hours after or less, I’ll face the judge and jury. I don’t want you to tell anyone about it because, in a couple of days, I’ll be set free.”
Bruno gasped inwardly, feeling like the wind had been kicked out of him. Controlling his reaction, he showed no outward signs of the worry blasting through him. This was almost unheard of for Castillo. To Castillo, the threat clearly appeared negligible. He was accustomed to it. And he considered letters from attorneys basically bullshit, throw away threats. It made some sense, he’d never been prosecuted before. Bruno feared that was exactly how the prosecutors wanted it.
Bruno peered down at his watch. How many more hours did the man have left? “And if you don’t walk free?”
“If I don’t… It’s prison food for the rest of my days. Ten to life upstate. I’ll never run anybody out to save my own skin, living under the federal witness protection program. HA! Not Vincent Castillo.”
“There must be something I can do.” The boss’ words bounced around in Bruno’s mind, searching for a solution, turning like Rubix cube. Life. Sentence. Just the thought had a wave of dread crashing through him.
“I’ll have it all taken care of soon enough,” Castillo reassured him. “If the judge doesn’t rule in our favor, he leaves the world forever. Case closed.” Vincent loved a challenge. Something that would push him to the wall, hone his skills.
For Bruno, this was too fucking close for comfort. He was a planner, a strategizer, never afly by the seat of his pantskind of man. The past few weeks had been hell. And he had every indication that it would continue to be hell. “Boss, I hate to say it, but if the Mexicans have been crazy enough and cruel enough to frame you for this, don’t you worry that even if you did get off, they may send gunners over here and shoot you anyway?”
Castillo laughed. “Son, I’m a mafia boss. I’ve been taking chances on my life every day for over three decades. When I walk free, Leonardo Felipe’s pussies will have a little hissy fit, but what’s he gonna do about it?”
Bruno sat forward. “Leonardo Filipe? Head of the joke-ass Mexican Cartel. That’s who set you up?” He shot to his feet, fists clenching. “I have a feeling he’ll drop any testimonies his men have against you real soon.”
“No Bruno! You can’t skate on weak ice and not expect to get wet.”
“You’re not gonna bribe him? Bet he’s never seen a million dollars cash in his life.” Bruno smiled. “That’s his real agenda. That’s what he’s really after.”
Castillo shook his head. “What? Give him money so he has even more power? The judge will roll over soon enough.”
Bruno sighed heavily.
“Listen Bruno, anything happens to me; remember this… Never, ever, get involved with drugs. Don’t you let your greed overcome your loyalty. Don’t risk dipping into drugs as I’ve seen in some of the youngsters. You can steal a big drug dealer’s money, but you can’t steal the drugs.”
“I know that boss.” His father was the same way, same generation, and always made sure nobody in his family fooled with drugs.
The phone on the desk suddenly rang.
Bruno sat down and waited while Castillo listened to someone on the other line.
Hanging up, he informed Bruno that the judge had agreed to rule in his favor, hands down. The judge, Judge Peterson, was on their side now. “Relax Bruno. All I ask you to do is keep the boys busy while I’m gone.”
Tossing his arms over his enormous chest, Bruno gave Castillo the once over like he’d lost his damn mind. Sure, it would serve him right! But shit, if the call were being recorded, the boss was as good as convicted. He still felt uneasy about the whole thing, he knew this judge. “I don’t know. Something doesn’t smell right here.”
“I think you’re being a little paranoid, my friend.”
“Isn’t it better to be paranoid and walk away a free man?” Bruno countered.
Leaving Castillo alone, unquestioning, he stalked out the door. He vowed he’d do whatever it took to rebuild on the ashes, should anything happen. If Castillo went down, it would be a major embarrassment. This could bring the family to the edge of extinction, but the mob was fully capable of resurrecting itself.
Fuck it!Bruno growled. He refused to give up. Sitting down on the old black leather couch in front of the mock fireplace downstairs, he picked up the phone, punched in a few digits and waited for it to answer.... Someone needed reminding to play on his side of the fence.
Bruno knew he had to work fast if he were going to stand any hope in hell of saving Castillo.
He had to do what he had to do. It was a risk, but he could handle it.
Bruno met Marco in his car, somewhere out of the way in a car park by the ferry, at the docks. He told the man that a very bad, very dangerous man was dead. And Vincent, who was the prime suspect, would soon be taken into custody. Castillo was certain he wouldn’t be taken down. What judge, what jury would dare convict him?
Bruno glanced across to the small cabin which housed lockers. Marco’s father had a locker over here, a place he stashed cash in plain sight, and he and Marco were the only other people on earth to know it existed.
