Warning Language and Violence

As Amato dug up more info on Danny and Destiny, Jimmy was sitting in his cell with Leo when a group of correction officers appeared bringing back Anthony to his cell.  Jimmy stood next to the door and leaned against it like he was looking in the opposite direction.  He heard laughter erupt as Anthony joined his fellow cellmates and family members.  Why were they allowed to be housed in the same cell?  It wasn’t hard to guess that one of the guards was either screwing up on a massive level or was corrupt.  It was no secret that some guards barely made livable wages.  Their lack of compensation made them the weakest link in the prison system.  As Jimmy strained to hear, he felt the breeze as several of the correctional officers quickly walked away.  Once they disappeared, Jimmy heard someone say, “Did you tell em what we told ya?”

“Yeah.” Was the response.  “They bought it, I think.”

“Good, we don’t need them knowing everything.”

Interested, Jimmy listened on, “Just make sure Danny and his bitch gets thrown under the bus.”

“Good riddance” Jimmy heard another person say.

“Yeah, sorry son of a bitch, at least he got Stephano and we didn’t have to start a war but Fenetti is still alive and she was part of the deal.  Punk ass, can’t even kill a broad.  I bet you if you gave Destiny that gun, she would’ve whacked ’em both.”

“Shame, we hired the wrong gun.”

“Pfft.”

Jimmy couldn’t believe what he was hearing, these guys weren’t Allunis, they were Cosimos!  It all made sense, the Cosimos wanted revenge and so they went to Stephano’s second in command, Danny.  They had it all wrong, Danny wasn’t gunning for his boss’s position, the Alunni wouldn’t have tolerated the betrayal.  Instead, Danny had joined the other team!  Jimmy had to get out of there and warn Amato.  However, before he could do that, he noticed out of the corner of his eye, his cellmate charging right towards him and before he could react, Jimmy was knocked unconscious.  As his limp body lay on the floor, all hope for Cassie was lost.

Warning: Strong Language and Content

As Cassie’s life hung in the balance, Amato was turning up the heat on the thugs they arrested in the bistro raid.  To his surprise they brought in a familiar face, and it was just the thing this case needed.  Anthony Vello, was a mob associate with no loyalties, in essence, he was a rat and not a very smart one.  Anthony used to loan shark, and steal for his bosses but he got caught up too many times in the system.  It did something to him, he wasn’t the hardass he used to be.  Prison will do that to a man, and now that he was pushing his fifties, he was most likely terrified of doing time.  Amato personally watched as members of the Cosimo family would refer to him as Big Pussy, that character from the Sopranos.  It had to irk him a little if not, infuriate Anthony, after all, he took many for the team.  Amato wondered, if he would still protect his bosses?  There was only one way to find out, leaning back in his chair, Amato, began the interrogation, “State your name for the record.”

Crossing his arms, he said, “Ant-nee Vello”

“Mr. Vello, have you been informed as to why you’re here?”

“Yeah, they said summin’ bout a murder.” Anthony answered then began laughing.

“Mr. Vello, what’s so funny?”

Trying to straighten his face, Anthony answered, “U’s guys, are trying to set us up.”

“Mr. Vello I can assure you no one here is trying to set you up.”

“Oh yeah, then how come that bitch Destiny ain’t here wit us?”

“Destiny who?” asked Amato.

“Stephano’s broad.”

Now he was getting somewhere, intrigued Amato asked, “Does this Destiny have a last name?”

“I don’t remember, they said she used to do tricks at the Sapphire Club on 9^th.  Damn shame, she told Stephano she was some sort of model.  Pfft.” He said rolling his eyes and chuckling, “She had him hypnotized or summin’.”  Taking notes, Amato was going to be sure to look this up in the database.  If what Anthony was saying was true, this Destiny chick had to have been booked for prostitution at some point, but that was only if he was telling the truth.

Amato had reason to believe that Anthony was only playing the game, just to keep his head above water.  There was so much more that he knew and was part of but Amato had to stay focused, Cohen said he wanted answers and so he was going to get them.  “Who else is working with Destiny?” he asked.

“Dunno.” Anthony answered.

“Bullshit!” Amato said after rolling his eyes. “If you think I’m gonna believe that some stripper is shot calling you’re out of your mind.”

“Believe what you wanna, I said enough.” And he was right, Anthony threw Amato enough crumbs to distance himself from the murder charges.  Hell, at this point he couldn’t even get him on conspiracy charges.  So Amato pushed, “It’s common knowledge that women aren’t allowed in the mob.”

Not impressed with Amato, Anthony said, “What can I say, it’s a new day.”

Losing his patience Amato growled “Who called the hit?”

“I dunno.”
“So you’re taking orders from ‘dunno’.  Amato said shrugging his shoulders in an over exaggerated way. “Come Anthony, you can do better than that.”

“Can I have a lawyer?” Anthony said, ending the interview.  It was like a bucket of cold water for a detective but he wasn’t a cop, he was an agent and agents had more leeway when interviewing suspects.  “Okay, Anthony you can see a lawyer but these processing papers are tricky for us to hang on to. You know what I mean?”  Confused Anthony just looked on while Amato started packing up his things.  “If something were to happen to these papers, well, nobody’s gonna know where to put you in the jail.”  This was a vague threat and Anthony didn’t take it lightly. If he ended up in the wrong cell block that could mean death.  His brother was killed while being processed at Ricker’s Island.  As he stood in line waiting to be given his bedding and toiletries, he was stabbed in the neck by a Cosimo who just happened to be in the next line.  “God damit, it ain’t never enough for u’s.  What more do you want?”

“No you didn’t.”

After that the only sound in the room was the buzzing from the clock on the wall.  Amato noticed Anthony breathing really hard as he struggled to stay loyal to his boss.  Fixated on his face, Amato watched the anguish of a man who had to finally stand on his own.  No bosses, no crew, no help.  As his walls shattered, Anthony covered his face with his hands and took a deep breath, “If I say anything, I want immunity.”

“I swear, if you give us the boss, you won’t have to face the death penalty.”

“Aiight, Danny Marchesi, ordered the hit on Stephano and Cassandra.”

Standing up, Amato said in his most professional voice, “Thank you for your cooperation in our investigation, I’ll be sending you back to holding until we work something out with the DA.”  Seeing Anthony’s body almost deflate as he realized what he was really doing, Amato repeated his promise, “If you testify, you will most likely be put in witness protection and you won’t have to worry about retaliation.” Not like it mattered to him, the life that Anthony knew before was over, no matter how things turned out.  Amato couldn’t bring any comfort to him because there wasn’t anything he could do.  All he could do right now was find Danny and Destiny before they carried out their hit.  That’s if they didn’t do it already.  Amato knew the pressure was on both Danny and Destiny to flee New York and they were most likely heading off to some country without an extradition treaty.  No matter how he looked at it, time was running out for Cassie.

As Cassie tried to fight her way back to consciousness, she forced herself to open her eyes.  When she did a shooting pain griped the left side of her head.  She moaned in agony and writhed in pain in the chair.  Taking a deep breath, she found it hard to inhale because of a broken nose.  Tilting her head just a bit made her see stars from the concussion she received when she hit the concrete floor of the basement.  It took a long while for her to get her bearings, but when she did she recognized exactly where she was.  Cassie also remembered who was responsible for her current predicament.  Even in her weakened state, her first thought was revenge.  At least the beatdown didn’t kill her spirit even though it was slowly killing her body.  She forced herself to not focus on the pain, instead, throwing all her mental energy into figuring out an escape.  Things didn’t look good for her, they had zip tied both arms and legs to a chair and duct tape was fixed across her mouth.  She couldn’t make a sound, let alone move, which was going to make escaping difficult at best.  The only thing she could hope for right now was for Amato and the Feds to swoop in and rescue her but that was unlikely.  Law enforcement was always a day late and a dollar short when it came to these sorts of things.  She never thought in a million years that she would prefer jail to a bullet in the head but she had something to live for.  Now it was up to her mentally challenged heroes in blue to find her and save her.

The more she thought about it, the more hopeless it felt.  Her arms were beginning to feel numb from the lack of circulation and a part of her wanted this to all be over with.  As her thoughts turned dark, Cassie wondered was there a special prayer you were supposed to say before you were murdered?  The Catholics always had a saint for everything stemming from; illness, employment, and even betrayal.  She remembered her father having a medallion of St. John of the Cross, who was the patron saint of betrayals.  Though he rarely went to church, he took the whole saints and angels thing seriously.  He had medallions and even prayer books all dedicated to the saints.  What was the point, Cassie asked her brain which brought up the memory? None of this brought any comfort to Cassandra who felt like the clock was ticking away.  What if this was her time?  Well she thought. at least she went down fighting like a soldier in a war where the enemies and battlefield were always changing.  It was a miracle she lasted this long.  Yet there was still a piece of her that wanted to live just to stick it to her enemies.

When they got to the station downtown, they were allotted an interrogation room to conduct business.  Before they started on their first suspect, Jimmy disappeared to do his part in the investigation.  As the officers brought in their first suspect, Amato watched as they cuffed him to the chair.  After he was settled, Amato began to read his file aloud in front of him, “Gianvanni Polenzi, 53, Brooklyn Heights.  Says here; burglary, armed robbery, assault, and attempted murder which you are still awaiting trial.  Tisk, tisk.” Throwing the file on the conference table, he sat up in his chair and looked him dead in the eye and said, “I’m not gonna bullshit you, if you aren’t careful, you’ll be putting yourself right in the middle of a murder investigation.  You don’t want that, considering you’re already about to be put on trial for another murder.  You see, judges and juries don’t like psychopaths.”  Gianvanni rolled his eyes in front of him, pissing off Amato. “Look shit stain, I’m gonna find out where your boss is and when I do, I’ll be sure to send you all first class to hell.”  Not impressed, Gianvanni stared at him, defiant and silent.

As Amato was going through the proper channels, Jimmy was going the alternate route and suiting up to go undercover in the holding area.  Using his tools of the trade, he went to what was called, the green room, an area where officers went to transform themselves, kind of like a Hollywood dressing room.  Inside were wigs, prosthetics, and makeup.  Having decided on a more ethnic look, Jimmy grabbed a kufi, a type of headwear which some Muslims used as a sign of persecution.  He has worn this disguise before so the jailers and some of the regular inmates would be familiar with him.  He needed that credibility.  The mafiosos he was dealing with were old hats and could smell a cop a mile away.  If they were suspicious, that could put his life in danger.  He had heard stories of undercovers being stabbed in the neck, and one being thrown from a second story floor and onto a commissary area.  He wasn’t gonna let that happen to him.  So he put the kufi on his head, and began his transformation into someone who could blend in seamlessly.  As he looked into the mirror he saw his face was missing something, and so gave himself a scar on the left cheek.  When he was done, he looked different enough to move through the jail population without setting off any alarms.  All he had to do was put on his baggy, hunter green pants and white t-shirt and he was all set.  When he was done, Jimmy signaled for one of the rookies to escort him to his new abode, next to the Alunni thugs and began surveillance.

As the door slid open, Jimmy noticed he would be cohabitating with another inmate.  He was a scruffy, and thin tattooed man.  Studying his face, Jimmy ascertained that he was in his forties or late thirties.  His face looked worn and the gang tattoos didn’t help him look any younger or healthier.  As soon as the door slammed behind him, Jimmy began unpacking, “Whaddaya in for?” asked the tattooed man.  “Armed robbery,” Jimmy answered. “Oh yeah, note or gun?” the man asked.  This was a way inmates tested newbies, it was their way to gauge how dangerous an individual was.  It was also for bragging rights.  The more violent the crime, the more impressive you seemed.  Although Jimmy wasn’t looking to be a seen as a serial killer, he also didn’t want to be seen as a punk, so he answered, “Gun.”  Unfurling his sheets and blanket, Jimmy began making his bed while the man continued checking him out.  “What crew ya ride wit?”

“Me, myself and I,” Jimmy responded.

The man laughed at the response and said, “Betta watch out, the fools up in here are all cliqued up.”

“Yeah?” Jimmy asked.

“Yep, they dropped off two mafia dudes next door a few hours ago.”

As he tucked in the sheets and blanket, he declared, “I just mind my own damn business and do my time.  I’ll be okay, this ain’t my first rodeo.”

Intrigued the man asked, “So you an OG (original gangster), huh?”

Snickering, Jimmy smiled then said, “Yeah, I’m a veteran.”

“What’s your name?”

“Jeremiah”

“Leo, like the lion.”

“Okay Leo, what’s the deal with these mafia dudes?”

“Dunno maaaan,” he said looking rather uncomfortable.

Jimmy figured, he wasn’t be truthful but if he was going to get the truth from him he needed to earn Leo’s trust.  But how was he going to make that happen?  His answer came twenty minutes later when the guards started delivering dinner straight to the cells. Since most of the inmates on the cell block were considered the worst of the worst, they had to eat inside their cells.  They were too dangerous to have running around free, however, the drug addicts, dealers and thieves were allowed to have dinner outside their cells.

When Jimmy got his meal, he had no clue what it was.  Inspecting it with the plastic fork, he cut a small piece off and sniffed it.  “What the hell is this?” Jimmy exclaimed at something grey covered in a thin brown sauce.  “It’s Salisbury steak.”

“You shitting me?”

“Nah man, it ain’t that bad, all ya gotta do is dip it in your mash potatoes and it cancels the whole thing out.”

Even though he was starving, Jimmy wasn’t that hungry and so he offered his tray to his new cellie.  Without even looking, Leo grabbed it and placed the tray next to his on the bed and continued chowing down.  Jimmy wasn’t sure if he was an addict or homeless by the way he ate.  Since he was gaunt looking, Jimmy assumed addict, so he began to casually ask questions.  “So Leo, what are you in for?”

“Like you, armed robbery.”

However, Jimmy wasn’t buying it, “Yeah, bank or store?”

“Neither, I robbed some old bitch in front of the 7-twelve.”

That sounded like a junkie move but Jimmy didn’t say anything, he needed Leo to like him, like him enough to talk to him.  Continuing the conversation, Jimmy asked, “Gun or knife?”

“Nope, copper pipe.” He said talking with his mouth full.  As he took a sip of his little milk, he began laughing, “That old bag didn’t see it coming.  I mean WHACK!” he said while reenacting the crime, “She was on her ass before she knew what was going on.”  Jimmy felt the hairs on his neck stand up when he realized Leo was a psychopath.  Faintly, he laughed right along with Leo and even encouraged him, “I bet she was shocked as shit?”

“Yep.  And funny thing is, she kinda looked like my aunt Ronnie.” He said loudly as tiny particles of food flew out of his mouth.  This wasn’t going to be pretty, if he was going to get Leo to talk, he needed to get on his level.  It was quite a distance to stoop but Leo didn’t seem all that dangerous—now.  If Jimmy could keep him entertained, he knew he could get Leo to spill any secrets he may have.  Boredom and a personality disorder were things he could work with, he was an awesome interrogator, all Jimmy needed was an angle.

As Jimmy was wondering about his next move, two guards appeared next door and announced that they were taking both inmates to homicide.  Homicide?  This was confusing to Jimmy, was Fenetti dead?

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