CSI:NY fic: Bardverse snapshot

[bedlamsbard]

I leave for Rhode Island on Saturday. Yay? Also, hopefully once I'm there, I will be able to figure out how to connect my laptop to the Internet, otherwise I might disappear into the Atlantic! Rhode Island is a very tiny state; you never know.

Also, fic. More Flack and LaMontagne in New Orleans.



"Jackie Schneider -- they call him the German -- and Rick Paolini," LaMontagne said, sounding disgusted. "Proof that New Orleans really does have a little bit of everything."

"Mafia?" Flack said.

"Capos to the Devil, who's otherwise known as Nero Vallone. Just another hardass tryin' to make the city his playground by killin' off everyone in his path." He cast a jaded eye over the two Mafioso and added, "They'll scatter as soon as we go for them."

Flack glanced over, mock-casual even though the windows of the car were tinted. "They haven't made us yet."

"I've picked both of them up before," LaMontagne said. "Any chance I got of taking them by surprise is ten years in the hole."

Flack smirked. "But they don't know me," he said, unclipping his badge from his belt and sliding it into his pocket. He took off his tie and and tossed it into the back of the car, then rolled up his sleeves.

LaMontagne was grinning. "Don't forget your piece," he said.

"I've never met a mobster who wasn't carrying," Flack remarked, touching the butt of his gun thoughtfully. He wasn't wearing a police issue .38, but his own piece. It'd do. "Flank 'em?"

"You distract them, I'll come up behind." LaMontagne was the first out of hte car, heading away from Schneider and Paolini, around the bakc of the block. Flack waited five minutes and then got out.

He kept his sunglasses on and walked slow, with the faux-casual he'd seen Constantine's guys pull off more than once. He was pulling out a chair at their cafe table before they even realized he was there.

"You must be Vallone's boys," he said as both their hands disappeared beneath the table.

"Maybe," Schneider said warily. "Who wants to know?"

"Name's DiNozzo," Flack said, exaggerating his accent. "I work for Danny Messer."

"Why do we care?" Paolini asked.

Flack shrugged. "I work for Danny, Danny works for Val Constantine, Val works for the Commission -- you know how it is. Especially since your boss just asked the Commission to back up his claim, but hey, if I've got the wrong guys just say so and I'll keep walkin'."

"Funny," Schneider remarked, "you don't look Italian."

"Well, my pa was half Mick but we don't like to talk about that in polite company," Flack said, grinning and showing all his teeth doing it. LaMontagne was coming out through the cafe doors, hand on his gun. "So whaddaya say, boys? You wanna run it down for me, or should I just call my boss and to tell with the prelims?"

"You got something for me first," Paolini said, staring him down.

"Right," Flack said, reaching down. Both mobsters' eyes sharpened, bodies tensing. "I almost forgot." He put his badge on the table. "Man, am I stupid or what?"

Paolini swung around, right into the barrel of LaMontagne's gun. "Hi there, boys," the detective said brightly. "It's been a while since your last arrest, hasn't it?"

Schneider looked for escape and Flack put his gun on the table next to his badge, hand easy on the body-warm metal.

"Let's talk about some dead hookers," LaMontagne said.

Comments

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

Oh, sweet, cool. I notice that books are more likely to do MOST things, but that's because there are more of them.

Actually, I just remembered a Hercules: the Legendary Journeys fic that had angels on Earth. Huh. Cool!