Ray's Rules Episode 2: Midnight at the Gates

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Copyright 2012, Stephen L. Wilson, All Rights Reserved

The "Ray's Rules" serial can be found at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Lulu and Smashwords

CHAPTER vi

Carlo Vannucci had been planning to do away with Marco ever since he learned about his conspiracy with Nga Huang, or for about two years now. He knew that Marco would be no problem, but he wanted to gain an angle on Huang. He wanted to eliminate any suspicion concerning Marco’s death. Once he determined specifically who was involved, the rest was a piece of cake. Carlo in no way wanted to be connected with Nga Huang’s death, so he chose the most reasonable route. He put Nga’s rival mob, the Young Dragons, to use.

The Dragons, led by a young man named Jun Nguyen, had all of the ambition in the world, they were loaded with sharp, talented men, and they had balls. The one thing they lacked was necessary in this line of work – proper connections. Carlo fixed this with a few phone calls.

In the past, the Dragons had tried and failed in several attempts to displace Huang. He was always one step ahead. Carlo saw to it that for once, the Dragons were one step ahead of Huang.

Marco’s situation was a slightly different story. Immediately after propelling Marco over the balcony rail, Carlo strolled back into his office and called an ambulance. He hid the elation in his voice by forcing a sob when he felt like chuckling. It worked well enough to keep his story convincing. By the time the police had arrived, he even managed to drum up a little confused, panicky hysteria. No officer, I don’t know what the hell was going on. The whole thing scared the holy living shit out of me. No, the only thing I know for sure was that when I came into my office, I saw Marc….choke….(Pause, head bent, gathering his emotions)….Marco standing on the rail. I shouted his name and he turned suddenly. I saw his face. I tried. I tried to get there in time. His face was depressed. I never could have gotten there in time. Yes, officer…………

Of course, Carlo had made arrangements.

The next day, a call girl of Marco’s occasional acquaintance called the precinct in hysteria, babbling about how it was all her fault. She should have let him down easy. She never would have thought that Marco would have been so upset at their break-up. About how they had been involved off and on for a couple of years. Poor Marco. Asked for her hand in marriage. If only she knew then what she knows now, she surely would have agreed. Such a tragedy.

Now Carlo was only concerned with promoting a new lieutenant.

CHAPTER vii

Raymond knew from the start that betting big bucks at the track was the wrong way to go about things. For one, even though his false I.D. depicted convincingly a real one, the fact remained that he was underage. Considering that the legal betting age was twenty-one and that a simple trace could be done to expose his true age, he didn’t need the attention. From a more mature standpoint, Raymond was well aware of the mafia’s influence in his community. It made sense to him that in order for Sammy to operate, he had to clear it through the proper channels. Ray couldn’t care less about what Sammy had to say, but for his own good, and out of common respect, he knew that if he had any intentions of dealing with the mafia, it had better be on good terms.

After deciding on this only ten minutes after talking with Sammy, he thought it a good idea to pay a visit to the track and get a real feel of the place. He had visited on numerous occasions, but by way of a back door contact, and he knew that attending as a member of the public would be different. It had been this cautious line of reasoning that had saved his ass more than once.

The Bridle Downs racetrack was a good fifteen blocks or better from Sammy’s modest body shop. Ray employed the mode of transportation that had become so familiar to him: His feet. Even though the city was equipped with a public bus system, Ray refused to use it. Though it wasn’t necessarily true, Ray felt that the only people you met on the busses were toothless fat welfare women or helplessly drunk derelicts, neither one of which he had any inclination of meeting. He didn’t own a car because he refused to buy one that was a piece of crap, and that was all that he could afford. He could reflect back to the time his Uncle had bought his first car with an acrid disgust not quite revealing itself at the back of his throat.

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