Omerta

Running Away
As soon as 17 year old Jane had gotten home, she flung her bag aside, dropped into the sofa and began to cry.
Her sobbing had not gone on for very long when her grandfather hobbled in on a cane, he sat down next to the weeping figure and stroked her hair comfortingly, “Now, now, you had better stop crying before you wet the sofa through!”
Jane got up and smiled feebly at her grandfather and spoke, “It’s nothing grandpa, its been a stressful week that’s all.”
Her grandfather looked at her, sunken eyes piercing into her innermost thoughts, “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to talk about?”
Jane broke down again, nodding her head. After a few minutes, she calmed down somewhat and began to tell her story.
Jane was being bullied, a girl in school was making her every hour in school feel like hell, she would spill food on her, make a fool out of her in class, injure her in PE, and the list went on.
Her grandfather knew that Jane possessed a strong and willful character and voiced his surprise at her not responding, “Why didn’t you tell your teacher? Or the counselors?”
Then he grinned, “Is this something to do with Adriel again?” Adriel was the boy that Jane had taken a real fancy to.
Jane’s face turned a cherry red and she managed a whisper, “Yes…” She explained, “You see grandpa, that bitch (at this, grandpa tut tutted) Cindy is in charge of the AV system, she threatened to announce…you know…”
“Settle down Jane, I’ve got a story for you…”


“The year was 1923, midway through the Great Depression and the Prohibition, it was hard times for most people, having a job as a taxi driver was considered very lucky in those days. I landed a job as one, eked out a living ferrying people around Chicago, also known as La Cosa Nostra or the Lost Heaven. It was the era of the Mafia, drive-by-shootings were common, Speakeasy’s were dangerous places and no one could be trusted. It was in this city that I first met your grandmother; I still remember our first meeting like it happened yesterday. I had earned much more than my quota and was about to knock off for the night, but something else was about to happen.
I stopped off at my block for a break, when a Ford screeched round the corner and crashed into a lamppost, two men got out, each holding a Colt .45. They dashed towards me and held the Colt to my head, “Get in and drive!” I always stayed clear of mob activities but in this case, I was obliged to. I got in and we sped off, I soon realized why they were in such a rush when a red sedan roared after us, the windows lowered and objects glinting in the light protruded, I didn’t know what they were, until the windscreen shattered that is.
I put the pedal to the metal and began driving as hard as I could, it was a matter of life and death. It wasn’t easy to lose them, the cab wasn’t built for racing, and the sedan was steadily catching up, and to what was worse, my two ‘customers’ had ran out of ammunition. I made a right and found myself facing a bridge, a bridge which was slowly being raised for a ship to pass, there was no time to hesitate, I made straight for the bridge.
Racing for the bridge, one of the men called out to me, “Are you mad?? Get us off the road!!” Ignoring him I continued, the cab smashed through the barrier and went right off the ramp. There was a stunned silence as we flew through the night sky, it seemed as if we were suspended mid-air, then we landed. I was filled with astonishment when my cab didn’t fall apart on impact with the other side of the bridge; it merely skidded down and came to a sudden halt against a wall. I leant back on the chair, heart laying down a beat like a Tommy gun.
One of my customers reached over to pat me on my shoulder, “That was some smooth driving son, now get us to the Salieri Bar at 4th street and that’ll be all.” And that was my first encounter with Tommy and Angelo, they told me to go find them at the Salieri bar the next day for what they claimed was ‘An offer you cant refuse’
Early the next morning, I drove my half destroyed taxi down to the Salieri Bar, where Tommy and Angelo were already waiting. They said they needed a capable chauffeur, and I sure fulfilled THAT requirement. But as I said earlier, I dreaded the activites of the Don Mafioso, but the lucrative paycheck was just too hard to resist, so I agreed, and that was the beginning of my career in the Mafia.
Tommy was a genial sort of guy except when it came to business that is, outside that, Tommy was real friendly and I grew to like him more and more. Angelo on the other hand, was cold and generally unfriendly, he took especial pleasure in ‘hits’ or killings, as the layman would put it. They weren’t the only people I chauffeured though, I took the Don once, he explained how Tommy, Angelo and I belonged to the Salieri family, albeit a small one but ‘highly effective’ as he put it.
The first few months passed uneventfully, there were one or two occasions when I had to shake a trail, but no flying bullets this time round, there were also times when Tommy and Angelo would emerge from a house with bloodstains on their shirt. I knew well enough what they did, and I hoped their job would never fall into my hands, unfortunately it did one day.
It seemed to be another typical day in my humdrum life, I drove Tommy and Angelo further out to a remote gas station, I got out of the car for a quick smoke and they entered the gas station’s diner. I got out a dime novel I had bought earlier when Angelo rudely interrupted by getting flung out of the door with a bullet wound. I threw my book aside and rushed to tend to him, he reached into his trenchcoat and drew out a Colt which he handed to me, “Dirty bastards…. they got Tommy locked up…go get him outta there…I‘m not too badly wounded…GO!” I grasped the gun in my hand and stalked round to the back of the diner, taking a deep breath I kicked the backdoor in and went in.
Suddenly, a door next to me swung open, to reveal a very shocked man, he reached into his coat but before he could do anything else, I fired. The bullet went right through his neck and ended his life. I stood over the bleeding lifeless body, he was the first person I had ever killed, but not the last.
“Hey! Watcha doin ‘ere?” I spun round to see another gangster, this time holding a shotgun at the ready, I dived to the floor and we both fired simultaneously, thankfully his aim was wide and the bullets lodged themselves in the wall, I however shot him straight in the chest, he staggered back a few steps and I shot him two more times, killing him. The shots were bound to attract attention, and so they did. Two more came at me, but I was ready for them, I grabbed the pump-action shotgun and loosed off two shots, each striking home.
“S...Sam! Is that you? In…h…here!” A voice came from behind a door, I rushed in to find a beaten and bleeding Tommy, I got him to his feet and as I helped him out of the room, his eyes suddenly opened wide and he flung me to a side. A loud crack and he fell to his knees and crumpled to the ground. Someone had snuck up behind us! For a few seconds I was stunned, my only friend in Chicago, the person who showed me the ropes, the man who taught me how to shoot, was dead. Then I snapped out of my paralysis, in one fluid motion, I drew my weapon and fired at Tommy’s killer, the bullet hit dead center of his forehead. It’s amazing what anger can do to your aim.

The Don had called us in for a meeting; there were about forty other Mafia who came. A few representatives from other families were conversing with the Don, they seemed to have come to a sort of consensus, and the Don called our attention.
“Gentlemen, settle down. Thank you all for coming today, especially our guests from the Castello and Pannicio family. As you would probably have guessed, I called this meeting, to discuss the Morello situation.” At this, murmurs of discontent arose from the audience, the Don raised his hands for silence and went on, “ The Morellos are the biggest family in town, for a long time now. They’ve infringed on our turf, taken some of business’,” there was quite an uproar and the Don once again raised his hands for silence, “ But this time they’ve gone too far, just yesterday they killed one of our men! This means WAR! Today we’ll topple the Morellos, today we’ll ensure that there’s equal opportunity for all the families!” By this time, most of the Mafia were getting pretty hyped up, this statement caused an uproar and this time the Don didn’t bother to quiet them, shouting above the din, “Go out on the streets and if it belongs to Morello, hit it, if it’s a war they want, it’s a war they’ll get! But remember, leave his headquarters at the Ritz Hotel, that ones mine!”
The Mafia started filing out to their cars, assorted weapons at the ready. I pushed my way to the Don, “Don, I’d like to join you.”
The Don turned round and it was the first time I had a good look at him, silvery hair, bushy eyebrows and a toned body obviously gained from hard labour, Tommy had told me he was quite a fighter in his time. Tommy.
“I hear you’re a deadeye shot and a hot driver, bring your rod round and we’ll take it.” It was time. Time to bring down the bully.

There were about 12 of us, including the Don, we drove in three cars and stopped right outside the Ritz. We walked in to be met by two of Morello’s men, “Waddya want?”
The Don growled, “Blood”
We drew our weapons from under our trenchcoats and all hell broke loose. The two men who met us were blown away by a hail of bullets; people started screaming and attempted an escape. We fought our way to the stairwell, the Don told us Morello’s quarters were at the Mezzanine.
The fighting was hectic, a revolver in one hand and my trusty colt in the other, I brought down two Thompson wielding men. The element of surprise was on our side and we cleared out the first level pretty fast, but by the time we hit the mezzanine, Morello’s men were dug in and prepared, we lost three men to a well sprung surprse from a trapdoor. The Don himself was hit in the arm, he merely shrugged it off.
We really got bogged down at the bar counter, Morello’s men were taking cover behind it and had pinned us down. The Don cursed, “Damn, we gotta clear those guys out before Morello can escape!” Just at that moment I felt something hanging on my coat, I realized it was an old mills grenade I had plucked from the armoury. Hoping it still worked, I pulled the pin and flung it expertly over the counter. There was an almighty explosion and the counter practically split apart.
The next few moments passed like a Matrix fight scene. A hidden door burst open and Morello himself along with a few of his thugs burst out, guns blazing. We lost four more men to this initial onslaught, but once we recovered from the initial shock we managed to kill a few of their men. Morello rushed down the stairs while his men covered his retreat.
Once again we were pinned down, the Don gave what sounded like a warcry and flung a table onto the men, they tumbled down the stairs. We rushed down to find Morello driving off in one of the cars.
“You drive kiddo!” The Don shouted at me, we piled into one of the other cars and chased after Morello. It was just like that eventful night where I met Tommy and Angelo, only this time, I was the hunter.
Morello was a pretty smart driver, weaving in and out of the heavy traffic, but then again, I wasn’t any novice either! We were trailing him pretty closely when he braked and did a 180 degree turn, as he drove past, he shot the gas tank.
We were already low on gas and this shot emptied the tank. The car stopped and I got out. Before, it was business, now, it was personal, I took aim and fired. The bullet pierced through the glass, the headrest and Morello’s head, the car swerved into a wall and ignited in a ball of flame. Its amazing what anger can do to your aim.

Surprisingly, a lot of people turned up for Tommy’s funeral, it was a funeral of mixed emotions. Tommy was a sociable type of person, everyone grieved his death, and yet everyone was delighted that the iron grip of Morello the bully had been shattered forever.
After most everyone had left, I knelt by his grave and thought. How many more friends would I lose? How many more people would I have to kill? How long before I myself die ‘by the sword’?
I felt a hand grip my shoulder, it was the Don.
“Hey there Sam.”
“Don, I want out of this business, I don’t want anymore killing.”
“ I understand, Tommy was close to my heart too you know, he was my son. He wouldn’t have wanted you to stay. Go, get out of the La Cosa Nostra while you still can.””

“Are you saying I should take a gun and shoot Cindy grandpa?” Jane said with a tinge of amusement.
He smiled, “ The Don lost a son because he tolerated a bully for too long, I lost a friend because I was playing a game not for me. I think love is a game you’re too young for and I also think a peaceful confrontation is in order here.”
Jane looked down at the floor, “But…”
The old man got up, “It’s your life dear, it’s your life. You can choose to go in with guns blazing or go clean. Bullies need to be handled, but definitely not the way Morello was handled.”
Jane’s grandfather rose from his seat, kissed his granddaughter gently on the forehead and hobbled out on his cane.
Jane sat there, her mind a swirling mist of thoughts and conflicting ideas, then she looked at the old man ascending the staircase, and she got inspiration. Inspiration from the actions he did, the choices and the sacrifices he made. She had decided. The bully was going down. The Mafia way.

posted by S @ Thursday, June 26, 2003