I sat in my library, it's where I conducted meetings. I sipped my tea, then looked at my little black agenda planner. Today we were expecting Yackavetta. I sighed. The local club owner (with connections) still hadn't paid me my monthly payment. You see, he went to his boss for money, who sent him to me. I loaned him a considerably sum, with the understanding that he would make monthly payments to me until he had paid me back, with interest. But this month was the second time he was late... and I had no time for tardiness.
"No, no, please, I have her money, I just need a day to get it!" I could hear Mr. Yackavetta begging. How pathetic. The men who brought him to me said nothing as they tossed him into the library.
"Mr. Yackavetta." I sighed his name, once it was a powerful Italian mobsters name, now it belong to this street scum. Looking at him you could see that he was an addict. "You're payment is late...agaaaaaAAAAAaaaainnnnnnn."I sang.
"Please, I have your money miss Maloney. I just need to send someone to bring it." He pleaded. I looked down at him, cowering on the ground near my feet.I could see his reflection in my polished black heels.
"I thought we had made it clear that this would not be repeated." I stood up, and walked to my desk, sitting on the edge of it. "This visit isn't for you to get the payment Mr. Yackavetta. It's to make sure you know why." I said leaning forward. I turned to the boys who had decided to retreat to the door. "He's all yours boys, be sure you make it look like an accident of some sort, probably a robbery since you banged up that handsome face of his.
As Damon, one of my favorite henchmen, dragged away a desperately pitiful Mr. Nickolo Yackavetta, I turned on my music. The uplifting tuba, trombone and trumpet sounds filled the room. I smiled. Brooklyn by the Youngblood Brass band had recently become a favorite of mine. I grabbed my little black book and sat down at my desk. I read the news. Interested in the world around me. Boooorrrrrrriiiiinggg. I hissed at the computer, clicking through the news articles that bored me.
Until I saw a headline. Man breaks into Buckingham, attempts to steal Crown Jewels. Biggest heist of the century? I clicked on it. I read about how a Jim Moriarty stole the crown jewels, as well as performed other incredible feats while at Buckingham. I leaned forward.
"Now aren't you exciting?" I whispered to the article. I would have to get myself on his radar...but how? How could I get on the radar of someone like him. I smiled as I had an idea. I stood, sending texts out to my people explaining I would be in London for an undefined amount of time, telling them only to bother me if it were important.
"London here I come." I would miss the busy streets of New York, but this could be big.