One more little tidbit for the weekend, lord knows it'll be another busy one. Enjoy!
"Frankie, innocent people have died in the path of this guy you hired.", Mike urged, the pitch in his voice rising slowly.
"Nobody is innocent, Michael. You know that as well as I do."
Steve had long lost interest in the roman antiques and kept his ears tuned to the intense conversation happening a few feet away from him. Too scared to even move because it might distract the two men from hashing out old tragedy and uncovering the truth; he stayed perfectly still for many long moments.
"Be that as it may, nobody deserved to die the way these people have been executed. I am sorry, but I won't allow you to resolve your family feuds like that in my city. We both know that too, Frankie."
"Your city, Michael. I always liked that about you. Your ownership. How you care.", the old mobster said, meeting Mike's stern blue eyes with surprising lightheartedness, "We share this city. We're part of it too. Just like the light cannot exist without the darkness, so can this city not exist without us."
Mike had leaned in closer, his face only a few inches away from Frankie's. With his features unreadable, only the rigid shoulders and the slight quiver in his voice allowed Steve to sense the inner turmoil his partner was experiencing.
"Who is that guy and how do we stop him, Frankie?"
"Don't be silly, Michael. You can't stop him.", the mobster said and chuckled, before drinking a sip of water, "Once you unleash that…that power…you can't reel it back in. How did Goethe put it in the Sorcerer's Apprentice? Wrong I was in calling spirits, I avow, for I find them galling, cannot rule them now."
"I say, try me.", Mike argued and huffed in frustration, "But you knew that, didn't you? That's why you ordered him not to kill us. You knew I would do everything in my power to stop him, so you wanted him to scare us, maybe even mislead us with some of these killings…but you have enough respect left to stop him from hurting us."
"Internal business needs to be kept internal. I don't touch the boys in blue. Never have, and never will. You guys have more important problems on your hands than worrying about a target on your head."
Looking around, Steve noticed two security cameras mounted on either corner of the dining room, a third one hiding beneath the window drapes.
"How does Tony figure into all this? You guys used to be arch enemies. Now you're working together, trying to hook up with some pre-pubescent teenagers to do the drug running for you? If you ask me, that's quite the change in procedure."
"Tony Lombardo is a lonely man. He has no family left.", Frankie began as if to tell a bedtime story to his seven-year-old granddaughter, "He's also a man easily controlled by money, something there is ample of, if you look in all the right places. Maybe Tony felt it was time to bury the hatchet. I don't quite remember how that all came about anymore."
Steve couldn't tell if the mobster was lying or not. Without any of the regular psychological indicators on the older man's rigid features, he was left to rely on Mike's body language instead. And thus far, he was hearing the truth. At least as much as Frankie Scalino would allow them know.
"So you and Tony decided to merge houses, rather than fight each other. And the first thing you did was a land grab. Get rid of everybody who was in your way. Then try to make a deal with the Dragons and the Muertos…young, ignorant kids easily swayed if you wave a wad of cash in front of them, isn't that true? Create your own personal security squad, network of mules…and drug family."
"I always loved the way you simplify things, Michael. That way of thinking and explanation has a profoundly calming element to it.", Frankie said almost adoringly, before his features turned stone cold again, "Not this time around though. Things aren't that simple. No matter how much you wish they were."
"Why'd you have Gino killed? Was it because he tried to work together with Sal Rossi? Why'd you send him to New York? Expand your empire? Feel out the east side a bit?"
"I hate New York almost as much as Tony hates the Rossi clan", Frankie growled and ran a hand through his neatly combed back hair, "New York is Tony's fancy. He seems to have a fondness for things like snow, horrible accents and disrespectful business partners. I wouldn't touch that city if my life depended on it. Eugene though…he…he entertained the idea to leave San Francisco for this…this hole. In the end that caused nothing but trouble."
Growing increasingly intrigued by the monologue-type interview going on, in which Frankie just talked, but neither confirmed, nor denied Mike's arguments, Steve kept his ears tuned as he stumbled across a roman drawing from a brothel. Like a Sears catalogue, potential customers could choose their partners and sleeping positions at will, something Steve intended to look further into at one point.
"Why all the other murders in New York? Clearly, this guy isn't cheap, so why invest into him cleaning out the east coast when your goal is to take over the north side of San Francisco again?"
"You've been reading too many fantasy stories, Michael."
"Was that Tony's idea?", Mike continued undisturbed, his bright blue eyes fiercely focused on the aging mobster, "Did he have some beef with some of the old families and that was your guys' way of testing this hitman to see if he'd come through? Because if he'd been caught in New York, it would have been nearly impossible to trace him back to you guys. And when he did come through, when he killed everybody who had been a thorn in Tony's side successfully, you decided to bring him here to so some serious cleaning."
"It's getting to be time for my mid-afternoon tea…", Frankie breathed and straightened out in his chair, ready to stand up when Mike's hand on his forearm held him in place. A scary silence fell over the living room, until the Lieutenant cleared his throat.
"Was it you, or Tony who ordered for Gino to be killed? Was that part of your truce with him? He was your son, Frankie, your own flesh and blood."
"That's pretty ironic coming from a man who doesn't even have a son." Frankie answered almost instantly, his voice having grown solemn, as the discussion continued on.
"There are those in my life I love just as much, believe me.", Mike countered, his hand staying firmly in place, "And I know what it would do to my heart if they were hurt…or killed. Because no matter what they said or did, I'd still care deeply about them. It's what makes a man a father after all. And I know you are a proud father."
Steve drew in a deep breath, sensing that the conversation reached a far deeper level than even Mike was normally comfortable with.
"Gino didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. Neither one of my sons seems to have that ability.", Frankie muttered disappointedly and Steve swore he saw a wave of regret washing over his eyes.
"And in order to rebuild this…this empire you guys are dreaming of, all the control of the drug markets, all the extra income off the prostitution, all that power…in order to instill all that, Tony demanded that you ice Gino, didn't he? Because Gino was a liability. Because he felt that as long as Gino was around, there'd be a chance that he'd talk, maybe give away clues of what's really going on, destroy your plan before it was completed. He had you choose between ultimate power…and your own son."
A disturbing silence filled the room, as Frankie took a sip of water, his hands shaking slightly. When he looked back up, his dark brown eyes suddenly turned warm, almost as welcoming as they were when they first walked into the large mansion.
As he glanced over to either detective, he swallowed hard, before smiling.
"Not my son…my sons…."
The implications of that statement hit Steve at the same time they hit his partner. As both Detectives stared at each other in shock, he felt an involuntary shudder run down his back.
"He was going to stop by and get final instructions from you this afternoon, didn't he? Maybe even one more paycheck.", Steve speculated, causing Mike to look up in surprise. When Frankie barely reacted, the young Inspector pointed at the large window overlooking the street below, "Mike, I saw him do a drive by. He's already on his way to Mario's house. Driving a blue LTD."
Nodding at his partner slightly, the Lieutenant stood up, his hands on his hips as he eyed the mobster angrily.
"Call him off, Frankie. This has to stop."
"I can't call him off, Michael."
Shaking his head, the older man looked up, his eyes filled with regret and agony.
"Frank, this is your son Mario we are talking about! You've already lost one. You don't have to lose another one. Stop this madness."
As the mobster took a deep breath, he smiled at both detectives before sighing.
"Michael, like I told you, once you unleash somebody like that…you can't stop him anymore. He's out of my control. See if you can get him into yours…please."