Chapter 73: Doing Business

There's a knock at his office door. The sun is setting in the hallway behind the visitor to Caledon Hockley's office, casting long shadows along the walls and over the portraits of all the Hockley ancestors.

"Master Hockley?" his manservant says.

"What is it Riptide?"

"I have a telegram for you, sir, from the men you employed to do that… errand from you."

"Wonderful, please bring it in."

Riptide enters the steel tycoon's office with the slip of paper on a small silver tray. Cal sits behind his desk, with his hand on his chin. His face is only half-illuminated by lamplight, but any witness could see that he was smiling to himself. As his manservant approaches, he reaches out and takes the slip of paper. He reads it carefully and his smile becomes wider.

C, STOP

NOT MUCH TIME TO TALK STOP. HAVE THE GIRL IN TRUNK. QUITE FEISTY, I COMMEND YOUR CHOICE IN WOMEN STOP

MEET BEHIND THE BAR, ACHILLES AT 10 PM STOP

WILL MAKE EXCHANGE STOP. MAKE SURE YOU HAVE THE MONEY. STOP

M STOP

Cal can barely contain his joy. The gang has succeeded in grabbing his fiancée, everything had gone according to plan. He then brings out his chequebook and writes the exact sum that the leader requested.

"Oh, they certainly have earned it. Rose does tend to put up a fight."

Riptide merely nods, glad to see that his employer was in good spirits, despite the terrible deed that he has done. He was relieved that all his spying and trailing of the young woman had paid off and now hopefully, things could go back to normal for everyone in the mansion.

"Bring the car around Riptide, is the basement ready for her arrival?"

"It is sir,"

"Good because the last thing we need is someone suspecting what we might've done…" the steel tycoon chuckles. He stands up from the desk with his briefcase, grabs his coat and hat by the door of his office before exiting.

"Things are looking up Riptide, things are looking up."

…

"Are we sure we can trust this guy boss?" one of the gang members asks as the entire group stands in the back alleyway behind a bar called Achilles. All of them are smoking large cigars, their hats pulled over their faces. They are waiting in the shadows with the car parked near the rear of the alley. The sounds of bar nightlife drift out the open back door of the grimy kitchen. This bar was on the seedier side of town, where all the Mafia gangs and other morally questionable big wigs toasted their victories or did business together. Although, more often than not, it usually ended up with guns being drawn and the occasional fight breaking out.

The leader of the group, simply known as M, the underboss of the family chuckles quietly at his brother's doubt.

"We can't, but he'd better have that money, or we can give him a good shakedown. After all, this was all his idea and doin'. We are just the actors, he wrote the script. If he don't hand over the money, we can take care of this girl ourselves. She might be a good goomah; red hair can sell for a pretty penny these days. But we may have to wait until she pops the kid out."

"He said nothing about her being with baby, nor that she was a biter," the same member says, rubbing a spot on his hand which revealed a bite mark. "It made her harder to get under and lift."

"You could use the exercise Tony," another gang member chuckles. "Mama has been makin' too many cannoli for you."

Several of the men chuckle. The one known as Tony turns red and attempts to swing at his tormentors, but one grabs him and socks him in the jaw. When Tony falls to the ground, the men gather around and begin beating the snot out of him.

"That's enough!" M orders, after several minutes. He reaches over and pulls Tony to his feet.

"Keep your head high Tony, now go get cleaned up. Anne Marie in the back can take care of you…"

The victim nods, wiping the blood from his likely broken nose and stumbles inside the bar.

"He's got a mouth on him," one of the others mutters. "He better be no rat."

"He's new to the business," M says, lighting up another cigar. "He's mostly a cugine right now. Doesn't know his place yet, but if he knows what's good for him, he'll learn to keep that rage and mouth in check."

The sound of an engine roaring down the street catches the group's attention. There aren't any sirens, so it isn't the cops coming to get them. It's not like the fuzz came down to this neck of town anyways.

"Now you let me do the talkin' and the rest of you will get a cut of the Gs. Understand."

The shadowed men nod to one another.

"Good, now go get yourselves a drink. I'll call you when we need to move the girl."

One by one the gang members disappear through the back door, going through the kitchen to get a good drink as a reward for a hard day's work.

M continues to stand next to the car, near the trunk, until a man in a fancy coat and his own hat approaches. He checks over his shoulder before giving the man a firm handshake and then kissing his hand as a sign of respect in the Mafia.

"Quite shady down this way, but it does make sense after all," Cal murmurs.

"You got the money?" M asks, getting straight down to business.

Cal reaches into his coat pocket and removes the cheque. "I hope it is up to your desired standards."

The man looks at the piece of paper to make sure he wasn't pulling a fast one. He then pockets the cheque. "Pleasure doing business with you chief," M says.

"Before we part, I can be assured that there is no way that this can be traced back to me?"

M's eyes narrow, feeling insulted by this offhanded comment. "We did what you asked, we kept your hands clean. As long as you keep ours the same and you don't rat, you're good. If not…" M collars Cal so that they are eye to eye. "We have ways of makin' you pay…"

Cal swallows. "U-Understood."

M releases the steel tycoon. "Your distraction by callin' the fuzz worked out perfectly. The dame was easy once she was out in the open. A couple of my boys were in the back, watchin' the whole thing, they never even got to kiss."

"Excellent," Cal smiles, happy that Rose is still unmarried to the gutter rat. And now that he is behind bars, the tycoon is free to have the redhead as long as he wanted... which is forever.

"She wasn't too happy to see him be taken away; there were two others getting' married and they weren't too pleased either."

"They aren't a concern for you," Cal says firmly. "And you're sure no one saw."

"My boys are professional!" M snaps, hating that the fancy pants man had so little faith in them. "Once the coppers drove off, they snuck around. One of them had some chemicals to knock her out, but she did put up a fight. She bit one of them."

"She can be like that…"

"They weren't too happy with the scratches they got, maybe a little extra dough would keep them from comin' after you."

Cal eyes M angrily and sighs. He pulls out his wallet and forks over another few bills.

"That's good now," M mutters, pocketing the money.

"Can I see her?" Cal asks.

"Before you do, there is somethin' you should know about the dame."

"What's that?"

M goes to the trunk and lifts it open with one swift motion. Cal gasps when he sees what the mobster is talking about.

"She's a lot heavier than you thought."

Rose lays unconscious in the trunk of the car. Her hands and feet are bound tightly by rope and there is a thick gag over her mouth. There is also a blindfold over her eyes so she couldn't identify her attackers. She's still in her wedding dress, which was now wrinkled from being stuffed into the trunk, but even a drunk man could see the definitive curve of the woman's stomach. She is completely unconscious as the gang members had forced a rag against her face, having chemicals that knocked her out cold once she stopped struggling.

Cal's blood is boiling. He had forgotten that Dawson had knocked his fiancée up, on the ship no less! He realizes that his situation was much bigger now because, in a few months, there would be a new problem. One that could not be dealt with as easily. He thought about killing it now, but that might harm Rose. He shakes the thought from his mind, deciding to worry about it later.

"You didn't tell me she was carrying spawn," M grunts.

"It slipped my mind,"

"Did it now?" the mobster hisses. He reaches into his coat to grab his pistol. "Made the job a lot harder. We may kill, but we don't harm women or children, especially unborn ones. Your task was pushing the code we hold. Plus, a couple of my boys almost threw their backs out." He clicks the hammer once, loudly so Cal can hear.

Cal swallows again and wipes his brow. He knew he didn't want to piss off the man even more than before. Despite being honest, he knew that men like this don't care about honesty, only money.

"Y-Yes, how about I give you a bonus for having to l-lift her and corrupting your moral c-code…" Which they likely had none.

"How much of a bonus?"

"Another hundred."

"Make it two."

"Two!" Cal turns but stops short when he looks at the mafia's weapon. He has it out, not pointed at the tycoon, but it hovers low to the ground. It could easily be lifted to shoot him dead.

"Alright, two hundred."

"Write the cheque now, on the hood," M insists.

Cal just nods before removing his chequebook again. M watches with heavy set eyes, making sure the billionaire doesn't pull any funny business.

"There," Cal says, handing the cheque over.

"Pleasure then Mr. Hockley."

"C-Can we just have a few of your men help Riptide move her into the trunk of our car?"

M blows out a ring of smoke before answering, knowing that he has this first-class ass under his thumb. "Sure."

He then whistles a distinct tune before a couple of large men exit, no doubt they are the muscle of the group. Riptide comes to join his master and the men carefully lift the pregnant woman out of the trunk. Her head lolls a little bit, but she still doesn't stir. Cal watches as the men put the red-head in his trunk, then his manservant slams the lid down.

"Thank you for your services," Cal says, knowing he was probably going to have to shell out more money for having some of the gang move Rose. He hands the leader twenty extra dollars. "You won't hear from me again."

"Hope not," M says. "We don't usually do jobs like this. Hope she's worth it Mr. Hockley."

"Good night to you," Cal says, he then kisses the mobster's hand as a sign of farewell before walking towards his car. Once Riptide starts up the vehicle, the two men pull out onto the dark street until the headlights disappear into the dark.

One of the gang members looks at M for a moment. "You really think he won't rat on us."

"I'm positive."

"He ain't right in the head," another comments. "Forcing us to grab a woman like this."

"No, he ain't, but it doesn't matter anymore. He won't squeal as long as he knows where we are."

"Do you think he'll get caught?"

"With the way you described the other two and their legal talk, not a doubt in my mind."

A/N: Sorry if the dialogue sounds really stereotypical, I just wanted to emulate the Mafia dialect of the time.