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Dinner with Uncle Pat. Wow that's something I never thought I would call a mobster, 'Uncle Pat', thought Mark.
Dinner was actually going fairly well. Mark asked a few questions with a flippant and carefree attitude about how Pat got into his current line of work. This actually made Pat laugh, and he was vague about a lot but gave Mark a shortened version without any illegal details about his career. Mark found himself actually liking his Uncle.
Man I gotta remember this guy kills people or has them killed without batting an eye.
Pat explained that he was divorced, a father of three grown children who no longer wanted much to do with their father.
After eating a ton of spaghetti, meatballs, garlic bread, and salad, they were served some mouth watering cherry cheesecake; Mark ate two large slices. Pat kept commenting about Mark's appetite and that maybe he should send Judge Hardcastle a monthly allowance just to feed his starving nephew.
Cute, can you imagine Hardcase claiming support income from a mobster to feed said mobster's nephew on his income tax? Yep, that would work.
After dinner, Pat showed Mark some family photo albums, shook Mark's hand, and thanked him for a wonderful evening, as he put it, allowing him to get to know his nephew in person. He motioned him into the office again. There he handed him two ten-dollar bills.
Mark's smile widened as he spouted, "Gee, Uncle Pat, I think you're supposed to tip the cook and waitress."
Pat chuckled, "Oh, good one . . . you definitely would keep me on my toes." He then gave Mark a light slap on the cheek. "If you need to get in touch with me, you just need to call one of these numbers," pointing to the serial numbers on the ten dollar bills. "I figured it's the one place no one would look, and still be in plain sight. You could carry one with you and leave another one at home and no one would be the wiser, eh? All their search warrants and agents will never figure this one out," he said with a broad grin.
Mark was stunned. His Uncle was very keen; no wonder he'd been running circles around the FBI for years. He shook his head, grinning from ear to ear. "Uncle Pat, I now realize that you are an astute observer of human nature; you realize how the FBI works, and can obviously beat them at their own game, so what happened that they got too close this time?" Mark folded the two ten dollar bills and stashed then in a compartment of his wallet.
Even if someone does find the two tens, it will look like mad money, smart move, Mark.
"Well, unfortunately, they caught someone too close to me, and he is starting to tell stories after school, so to speak. So now is the time for me to disappear; after all, I should retire while I'm still young and good looking enough to enjoy it, right?"
Why do I have a feeling that Uncle Pat is aware of the FBI's current interest in me? Somehow this is a kind of warning that they are going to try to find him through me. Does the FBI know our connection? Maybe that's why Pat decided to bring me here and keep me under wraps until he's gone. Just so no one starts using me as their bargaining chip.
Mark had enjoyed his uncle's quick wit during dinner. Afterwards they said their goodbyes, Mark promised he would call and possibly even visit the villa someday. Pat gave Mark a hug and a slap on the back, and led him to the steps where the goons were waiting.
"Just think, with the wrong breaks in life, you could have ended up just like me, Mark, but with Judge Hardcastle's help and your own perseverance, you have turned your life into something you can be proud of. Start your own family, help those that need it, and keep making your mother proud." He nodded at Mark after indicating that the goons should again take him upstairs, he turned and walked away. Mark obediently walked up the stairs and went back into the bedroom; the goons again locked the door.
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Sometime around ten, Mark you've definitely got to get your watch fixed; the stupid thing stopped again, the door opened and one of the goons handed him a phone. It was Pat, telling Mark that he was in his plane currently flying over Mexico, indicating that he could now leave.
"I'll keep in touch, Mark, I'm sure the feds will give you a visit every time I send you a letter," Pat added with a chuckle, and then the phone call disconnected.
The goons allowed Mark to leave. Mark paused on the steps wondering about the events of the day.
I think that was his way of telling me to stay on the path I have chosen. That a life of crime was only one turn away for me, but thanks to Hardcastle, I'm now looking at a different future. And that maybe he's just a little proud of me. Wow that's pretty deep. Now I just need to figure out how to tell all this to Hardcase, maybe in a day or two, chicken! Damn right, I know he's gonna go off the deep end and guess who will be standing in front of him.
Mark climbed into the Coyote and headed back to Gulls Way. The cool breeze blowing in the window and the sight of the moon high in the sky, along with the thoughts of the day, made Mark smile as he kicked the Coyote up another gear.
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