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bedlamsbardAw, there's a hurricane named after me now. I'm so proud. Go forth, Hurricane Katrina, and do lots and lots of damage!
...or not.
Omerta 26, 3500 words - a lot, I know - we learn a few things, and then Things Start To Happen.
“Excuse me,” Mac said as his phone rang. “Taylor.” His eyes widened at whatever it was he heard. “Danny, are you all right?”
Val snapped upright. “Danny?” he said.
“How bad?” Mac asked. He was silent for a moment, and Stella heard the faint murmur of Danny’s voice sparking profanity through the phone. Val was taut and white-knuckled, staring at Mac with worry sharp in his brown eyes. Then – “He’ll be all right, though? You have the perp in custody?” A beat, then he added, “You did a good job, Danny. I’ll see you back at the lab,” and hung up.
“Is Danny all right?” Val demanded.
“Danny’s fine. Shaken, but fine,” Mac said. To Stella, “Danny and Aiden closed their case.”
“The shooting at the Empire State Building, right? What happened?”
Mac glanced at Val, said, “None of this leaks to the press,” and continued, “The perp pulled a gun and shot their suspect. He’s in the ER now. She managed to shoot Flack as well before he restrained her; Danny says it was just a flesh wound and he should be all right. They’re patching him up at the scene.”
Stella blinked. “He’ll be all right?”
“According to EMS.”
“He gets shot a lot,” she murmured.
“It’s one of his faults,” Mac nodded. He turned back to Val, “Where were we?”
“Danny’s not hurt?” Val said. Mac nodded, and the mob boss let out a narrow breath before resting his head in his hands. “Jesus.”
Stella blinked again. “You’re really worried about him, aren’t you?”
“He’s my nephew,” Val said, not looking up. “It’s kind of hard to stop worrying about him, especially considering the trouble he manages to get himself into. I’m just grateful he hasn’t gotten himself killed yet, although with an open hit on his head he’s a walking corpse.”
“Let’s get back to that,” Mac said. “You said most of the Mafia treats Danny as one of their own?”
“All of them,” Val nodded, making a visible effort to get himself back together. “As far as any of the bosses are concerned, he is La Cosa Nostra, make no mistake about it. Maybe he’s not made, but his pedigree’s impeccable. He’s directly related by blood to three of the five New York families – the Dellacroce, the Rocchegiani, and the Pagliuca, plus the Constantine, as well as the Scarpetta, the di Bonaventura, the Sforza, the Dellamonaca in Jersey, and the Rossi-Prete in Philly collaterally. Nobody’s going to take connections like that lightly, whether it comes to making a hit or underestimating his influence. There are strings he could pull, but he’s never done so. It makes people nervous.”
“His father’s a New York cop,” Stella said.
Val’s mouth twisted slightly. “Well, yes, there is that. But that pales in comparison to the rest of his bloodline, and you can see how the rest of the Mafia might choose to ignore that.”
“Danny is a NYPD detective,” she snapped. “How the hell do your friends justify that?”
He sighed. “They don’t,” he said, his chin raising minutely. “And they’re hardly my friends.”
“Fine. Your enemies.”
“The only answer I can give to that,” he said, “isn’t likely to make you particularly happy.”
Mac’s hand on Stella’s knee cut her off her angry reply. “What is it?” he asked.
Val considered them both for a moment. “Danny is Constantine,” he said, “even if he won’t admit it. That means anything he does reflects on us. At the same time, he’s part of the Crime Scene Unit – anything you do reflects on him. Is that right?”
Mac nodded slowly. “You’re saying –”
Val’s mouth twisted again. “A equals B, B equals C. Therefore, A equals C. Is that right?”
“You mean we’re considered part of the Mafia?” Stella said faintly, horror threading her voice.
He shook his head. “No. The Crime Lab is Danny, more or less. A equals B. Danny is Constantine. B equals C. Ergo, the Crime Lab is Constantine. A equals C. It’s why you’re as much targets as Danny, although slightly less so, at least according to Freddy’s oblique logic. Hurting you would hurt him, which would in turn hurt me. It make sense if you don’t think about it too much.”
Mac sat back. His hand slid from Stella’s knee back to his own lap, and he seemed to have lapsed back into the mode of, “Isn’t that absolutely fascinating?”
Stella scowled. “Son of a bitch,” she said. “You sure that guy’s sane?”
“He’s not. The Commission should have removed him from power by now; put his underboss in his place.”
“Who’s his underboss?” Mac asked.
“Salvatore Marione. Big Sammy. Everyone knows he’s in the pocket of Blue Eyes, so putting him in power would be the same as putting Blue Eyes on the throne. Of course,” he added consideringly, “at least Blue Eyes is sane, which is one step up from Freddy. And the war would end with Freddy; none of the soldiers loyal to Blue Eyes have participated.”
“So why is Freddy Patriso still don?”
Val leaned forward on one elbow. “I don’t know,” he said, “and that’s the truth. There’s no logical reason why the Commission should keep him in power, no logical reason that’s common knowledge among the Families.”
Mac raised his eyebrows slowly. “Is there one that’s not common knowledge?”
Val seemed to consider him for a moment, then he said, equally slowly, “I told you I had informants in the Five Families? Well, I have several in the Patriso and Pagliuca Families. The one in the Pagliuca Family isn’t talking, but there aren’t more than a handful of Patriso affiliates that are happy with what Fat Freddy’s been doing. It’s taken me almost a week, but enough consistent information has trickled down to me that I can begin to piece together what the Patriso thinks he’s doing, and what his underlings are doing.”
Stella ground her teeth, managed to say with all her attention concentrated on keeping her voice level, “And what’s that?”
“The Mafia Commission,” Val said, “is the governing force of the Five Families. Technically speaking, the other families – the Dellamonaca in Jersey, the Dell’ferrare in Boston –” Mac perked up at this; the new Boston family had been a matter of much debate among law enforcement and even the subject of a few bets among the Organized Crime Division and the FBI, if rumors were true “– the Rossi-Prete in Philadelphia, various capos across the country – answer to the Commission as well, but if they bother doing so it’s nothing more than a formality. If you want to whack a made guy, you take it before the Commission first. If they had their way, you’d ask them before you kneecapped a bookie that ripped you off, but they don’t have that much control over the Families. If you want to declare war, you take it before the Commission, and they’ll decide whether the situation merits that radical a reaction. If there’s a disagreement between two or more of the Families, it’ll go in front of the Commission. Danny doesn’t know it, but when he pissed off the Patriso the first time round, they tried to take it in front of the Commission and the capo di tutti capi – John Valachi of the Rocchegiani then – basically laughed them out of the room. Like I said, Constantine’s not one of the Families; we don’t answer to the Commission. This was before the Rocchegiani and Lancione bosses went to prison, and before Dante Dellacroce died. The old days.” His face was briefly thoughtful. “The Commission had better things to decide than the welfare of a couple kids that weren’t even amici nostri – they weren’t made yet,” he added, at the blank looks on Mac and Stella’s faces.
“O-kay,” she said. “What does this have to do with Darin Pagliuca?”
“Everything,” Val said. “I’m giving you background. Trying to deal with the Mafia is like trying to swim through molasses – it takes a long time, it’s stressful, and it’s hard.”
“I don’t know, you’re giving us information pretty quickly,” Stella said. “And if my friends in the FBI are to be believed, it’s information they’d sell their children for, and you’re just giving it out.”
“I have Danny’s word on you two,” Val said flatly. “He said you wouldn’t use any of this information for anything but solving your murder; my people are clean and I trust him.” He paused. “You should too.”
“I do trust Danny,” Stella snapped, a little hurt. “It’s you I don’t trust. How do we know what you’re giving us is any good?”
“You don’t and you shouldn’t,” he replied. “But if you think you can figure this out on your own, you’re welcome to try. I’ll have someone show you out.”
Stella snorted. “Well, I don’t have a problem with that,” she said, and started to stand up.
Mac put his hand on her elbow and pulled her back down. “We’ll stay,” he said. “Go on, Mr. Constantine.”
Val gave Stella a thoughtful look, not angry, just quiet and a little considering, then he turned his head back to Mac. “The capo di tutti capi today is Nicky Pagliuca – you already know that, I assume. Pagliuca’s the strongest of the Families; they have enough political pull to get just about anyone they want onto the Commission. Or off it. The Mafia tends to nepotism; you’ve probably noticed this.”
Mac nodded. “So Darin Pagliuca –”
“Oh, if Nicky died he wouldn’t become don; that position would go to his uncle, Carmine Pagliuca. There’s a line of succession that technically follows in most families: don, underboss, consigliere, street boss. Not all the Families follow it, though; wars have been fought over positions of power. Manny Caprio, the Lancione boss – his rise to power was the bloodiest in New York history. He’s not Lancione-born, not even on the wrong side of the sheets, but he had the firepower and the manpower to take out Salvo Lancione and his blood. There’s no one alive today with Lancione blood, not even in the other families that intermarried with them. Manny Caprio saw to that, and that’s one reason most of the Families won’t lift a finger to help the Lancione if they need it. They lost people too, one of them the Pagliuca don.”
“Caprio’s in jail,” Mac said.
“And Danny di Bonaventura, the acting boss, has spent the last five years trying to rebuild the Lancione’s relationships with the other Families. It’s not going well; most of them are still too pissed at losing some of their highest ranking guys to even consider it. Di Bonaventura’s got a chance, though, if Caprio never gets out; he’s got relatives with the Vita in the Rocchegiani Family. Going back to the Patriso, though – I’ve mentioned Fat Freddy is crazy?”
Mac nodded. “Once or twice.”
“The man has a hate-on for the Constantine Family. He’s not too fond of the Pagliuca either; back when Carlo Gambione was still head of the Commission they okayed a hit on Wild Bill Patriso after he pissed Francesco Pagliuca off big time. The hit went down in twenty-four hours; the next morning Wild Bill was found with his face blown off in his living room. Pagliuca took over the airports, Sam Smurra got the Patriso, and Freddy spent the next ten years working his way off from being Wild Bill’s disappointment of a son to becoming the Patriso boss. Let me tell you this: no one knows who whacked Smurra, but the Commission declared Freddy boss without even thinking twice about it the next day. It’s not wise to hold grudges in the Mafia, but we do it anyway, and the Patriso are a cut or two ahead in those sweepstakes. They don’t like the Commission because they hate answering to anyone, they don’t like the Pagliuca because Franco Pagliuca killed Wild Bill, they don’t like the Dellacroce because the Dellacroce are stuck up rich snobs with real political pull, they don’t like the Rocchegiani because fifty years ago the Rocchegiani War went down and the Patriso lost, they don’t like the Lancione because no one likes the Lancione, and they don’t like the Constantine because we’re not real Mafia and because Danny gave them their blackest eye since the Rocchegiani War.” There was a small pleased smile of proprietary pride on his face, then he wiped it off at Mac’s raised eyebrows.
Stella scowled. “How is what Danny did – whatever it was, I’m not too clear on that – so bad?”
Val’s mouth quirked slightly. “It wouldn’t be,” he said, “if Danny was an ordinary cop without any relation to the Mafia. But since he isn’t – since he’s Constantine – it’s treated the same way it would be if he was an ordinary soldier for the Constantine Family. Or,” he added, “if he was ultimus heres in truth, not just name. It’s not an affront from the NYPD to the Mafia, it’s an affront from one Family to another.”
“You keep saying Danny’s ultimus heres,” Stella said. “What the hell is that?”
It was Mac that answered, to her slight surprise. “Ultimus heres is Latin for the last heir,” he said. “It means he’s the only heir to the Constantine Family, is that right?” He looked faintly disturbed by this fact.
Val nodded. “We’re not one of the Commission Families,” he said. “The line of succession goes from father to son. I was sixteen when my father went to prison. In any other family, his underboss – Neil Sforza – would have become boss. Instead I got the job – in name, if not in truth for another year. I don’t have any kids. When I die, Danny will become boss, whether he likes it or not. At least in name. Carmine will probably handle everything, since I doubt he’d want control of the Family.”
“Does Danny know this?” Stella demanded.
“He should,” Val said. “I’m not sure if he wants to admit it, but he definitely knows it.”
Stella turned toward Mac. “Are you as freaked out by this as I am?” she demanded.
He gave her a slightly sheepish, slightly bewildered look. “I’m trying to take in the knowledge that one of my CSIs is heir to a Mafia family, if that’s what you mean. It’s a little like finding out –” He paused, then continued, “Well, I suppose it’s a little like finding out your boss is one of the Taylor Steel Taylors.”
Val’s eyebrows went up, but he didn’t say anything on that note. Instead, he continued, “To get to the point we’ve been dancing around for the better part of an hour, what I think happened is that Fat Freddy decided he wanted to take out two birds with one stone, so to speak, and set the Pagliuca and the Constantine against each other. Joey was nowhere near that warehouse the night Darin Pagliuca vanished; I have witnesses who’ll swear to that. You just didn’t believe them.”
“Carmine d’Alessandro, wasn’t it?” Stella said, raising her eyebrows. “That one I wouldn’t trust with my nonexistent daughters, let alone a witness statement.”
“You should; a d’Alessandro’s word is his life. One of the family mottoes should be familiar: fidelis ad mortem.”
Mac looked like he’d been slapped in the face. “Did they take that motto before or after the NYPD?” he asked finally.
Val smiled slightly. “They brought it over with them from Sicily,” he said, “so I wouldn’t know.”
Stella scowled. “I still wouldn’t trust him,” she said. “Even putting aside the fact he’s a criminal, I wouldn’t trust anyone whose family swears allegiance to one family but who gives their own allegiance to another. Faithful unto death my ass.”
Val’s smile turned into a frown. “You would have gotten along well with my father,” he said. “That’s what he said when I brought Carmine home. Giovanni and Orlando may have sworn to the Dellacroce, but Carmine never did. He’s Constantine in everything but his name; I trust him with my life. Moreover, I trust him with Danny’s life, something you probably find slightly more important.”
“Yeah? Where was he when Danny was getting shanghaied by your Patriso friends?”
“In the car behind them,” Val said, chin raising. “Emptying a clip into Johnnie Boy Marcatti. He still drives the same car; I think he does it to piss the Wren off.”
“Oh,” Stella said. “Wait – you had people following –”
Val said, “Do you want to hear about Darin Pagliuca or not?”
“Yes,” Mac said, and put a warning hand on Stella’s knee at her unhappy expression.
“The warehouse he was found at belongs to the Pagliuca Family,” he continued.
“Our results put the owner as a –” Mac flipped through his notebook “– Carl Bicchieri.”
“Pagliuca collateral,” Val said, waving a hand. “The Jeweler’s Nicky’s nephew, on his brother’s side. Darin had legitimate reason to be there that night; it would have been easy to find out what time he’d arrive. Or to set up an arrangement for him to arrive. That evening he had a meeting with Joey Sforza. Only thing is, Joey didn’t know anything about this and neither did I. Joey was with Carmine that night. Darin showed, and Billyclub was there to take him out and make it look like Joey did it. Billyclub works for Fat Freddy; he doesn’t even breathe without Freddy’s permission. There’s no way something like that goes down without Freddy breathing.”
“So how’d this guy Billyclub end up dead?” Stella asked, arching her eyebrows dubiously.
“I’m getting there,” Val said calmly. “What I think Fat Freddy wanted to do was to set Pagliuca against Constantine, which would give him an excuse to withdraw until we’d both killed each other, or decimated each other by enough that he could stroll in and grind down the pieces. If Pagliuca had thought Joey killed the heir, Darin – that’s cause for war, especially since Nicky’s capo di tutti capi. He can manipulate the Commission any way he wants. He says jump, they’ll say how high. The Commission very easily could have gone to war against Constantine, if they thought one of my guys had done for Darin.”
“But they didn’t,” Mac said.
He shook his head. “No, they didn’t. Which means they know, or at least Nicky know, that Constantine didn’t ice Darin. And that that corpse you found in the warehouse wasn’t Darin’s, but someone else’s. Someone who no one gives a damn about. I’m guessing you didn’t talk to many Pagliuca relatives when you conducted your initial investigation.”
Mac bit his lip. “We couldn’t get a hold of anyone,” he said reluctantly. “We IDed based on ID found on the victim’s person –”
“Billyclub’s about the same physical shape as Darin,” Val said. “Face is pretty different, but someone did for that. You pull any prints off the place?”
Mac and Stella shared a look, and then he said after a moment, “Only one with a positive match.”
“Roy Dimassi,” Stella said. “Alias the Sphinx. According to our friends the Feds, he’s been in the wind for the past year.”
Val arched one eyebrow, chin raising slightly to the side. “They obviously haven’t been looking very hard; he just returned from the Cayman Islands. And he’s a Patriso man through and through. At the same time he’s an opportunist; he’ll work for whoever in the Family offers him the most money. What I think happened is that Blue Eyes found out about his father’s plan somehow, and being just that much more sensible, he decided to turn it to his own ends. Kidnap Darin Pagliuca, leave law enforcement thinking that Billyclub is Darin, and he’s set with a fine hostage that will give him plenty of room to negotiate with Nicky. Take Nicky off the Commission; chances are his underboss Big Sammy Marione will take the throne. Big Sammy’s in Blue Eyes’ pocket; it’ll be almost the same thing as having Blue Eyes as boss.”
“Nicky Pagliuca would do that for his son?” Mac asked, looking faintly dubious.
Val blinked at him. “Wouldn’t you? I’d do it for Danny, if his life was on the line.”
Stella leaned back. “So why not just take out Fat Freddy? It sounds like Blue Eyes has his pick of hitmen.”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’m guessing it has something to do with the fact it’s his father that’s the one out for blood, not Blue Eyes. Vincent Patriso may have been his son, but Blue Eyes has always been more ambitious than retaliatory. If someone whacks a don, the Commission’s going to have someone out there looking for the iceman. They might not necessarily do anything about it, but –”
The door banged open and bounced against the wall. “Val,” Carmine d’Alessandro said, not even sparing a glance for Mac and Stella, “we got problems.”
“Can it wait?”
“No.” He shook his head, ran a hand over close-cropped red hair. “Someone just whacked Fat Freddy and Big Sammy and a bunch’a hawk soldiers. Mowed ‘em down in the middle of a Patriso joint, right in front of a room fulla civilians. Cops are already there, Feds are on their way. We got about five minutes before the Commission names another don; if you’re gonna nail Blue Eyes for anything you gotta do it now, before Nicky Pagliuca puts him on the throne.”
...or not.
Omerta 26, 3500 words - a lot, I know - we learn a few things, and then Things Start To Happen.
“Excuse me,” Mac said as his phone rang. “Taylor.” His eyes widened at whatever it was he heard. “Danny, are you all right?”
Val snapped upright. “Danny?” he said.
“How bad?” Mac asked. He was silent for a moment, and Stella heard the faint murmur of Danny’s voice sparking profanity through the phone. Val was taut and white-knuckled, staring at Mac with worry sharp in his brown eyes. Then – “He’ll be all right, though? You have the perp in custody?” A beat, then he added, “You did a good job, Danny. I’ll see you back at the lab,” and hung up.
“Is Danny all right?” Val demanded.
“Danny’s fine. Shaken, but fine,” Mac said. To Stella, “Danny and Aiden closed their case.”
“The shooting at the Empire State Building, right? What happened?”
Mac glanced at Val, said, “None of this leaks to the press,” and continued, “The perp pulled a gun and shot their suspect. He’s in the ER now. She managed to shoot Flack as well before he restrained her; Danny says it was just a flesh wound and he should be all right. They’re patching him up at the scene.”
Stella blinked. “He’ll be all right?”
“According to EMS.”
“He gets shot a lot,” she murmured.
“It’s one of his faults,” Mac nodded. He turned back to Val, “Where were we?”
“Danny’s not hurt?” Val said. Mac nodded, and the mob boss let out a narrow breath before resting his head in his hands. “Jesus.”
Stella blinked again. “You’re really worried about him, aren’t you?”
“He’s my nephew,” Val said, not looking up. “It’s kind of hard to stop worrying about him, especially considering the trouble he manages to get himself into. I’m just grateful he hasn’t gotten himself killed yet, although with an open hit on his head he’s a walking corpse.”
“Let’s get back to that,” Mac said. “You said most of the Mafia treats Danny as one of their own?”
“All of them,” Val nodded, making a visible effort to get himself back together. “As far as any of the bosses are concerned, he is La Cosa Nostra, make no mistake about it. Maybe he’s not made, but his pedigree’s impeccable. He’s directly related by blood to three of the five New York families – the Dellacroce, the Rocchegiani, and the Pagliuca, plus the Constantine, as well as the Scarpetta, the di Bonaventura, the Sforza, the Dellamonaca in Jersey, and the Rossi-Prete in Philly collaterally. Nobody’s going to take connections like that lightly, whether it comes to making a hit or underestimating his influence. There are strings he could pull, but he’s never done so. It makes people nervous.”
“His father’s a New York cop,” Stella said.
Val’s mouth twisted slightly. “Well, yes, there is that. But that pales in comparison to the rest of his bloodline, and you can see how the rest of the Mafia might choose to ignore that.”
“Danny is a NYPD detective,” she snapped. “How the hell do your friends justify that?”
He sighed. “They don’t,” he said, his chin raising minutely. “And they’re hardly my friends.”
“Fine. Your enemies.”
“The only answer I can give to that,” he said, “isn’t likely to make you particularly happy.”
Mac’s hand on Stella’s knee cut her off her angry reply. “What is it?” he asked.
Val considered them both for a moment. “Danny is Constantine,” he said, “even if he won’t admit it. That means anything he does reflects on us. At the same time, he’s part of the Crime Scene Unit – anything you do reflects on him. Is that right?”
Mac nodded slowly. “You’re saying –”
Val’s mouth twisted again. “A equals B, B equals C. Therefore, A equals C. Is that right?”
“You mean we’re considered part of the Mafia?” Stella said faintly, horror threading her voice.
He shook his head. “No. The Crime Lab is Danny, more or less. A equals B. Danny is Constantine. B equals C. Ergo, the Crime Lab is Constantine. A equals C. It’s why you’re as much targets as Danny, although slightly less so, at least according to Freddy’s oblique logic. Hurting you would hurt him, which would in turn hurt me. It make sense if you don’t think about it too much.”
Mac sat back. His hand slid from Stella’s knee back to his own lap, and he seemed to have lapsed back into the mode of, “Isn’t that absolutely fascinating?”
Stella scowled. “Son of a bitch,” she said. “You sure that guy’s sane?”
“He’s not. The Commission should have removed him from power by now; put his underboss in his place.”
“Who’s his underboss?” Mac asked.
“Salvatore Marione. Big Sammy. Everyone knows he’s in the pocket of Blue Eyes, so putting him in power would be the same as putting Blue Eyes on the throne. Of course,” he added consideringly, “at least Blue Eyes is sane, which is one step up from Freddy. And the war would end with Freddy; none of the soldiers loyal to Blue Eyes have participated.”
“So why is Freddy Patriso still don?”
Val leaned forward on one elbow. “I don’t know,” he said, “and that’s the truth. There’s no logical reason why the Commission should keep him in power, no logical reason that’s common knowledge among the Families.”
Mac raised his eyebrows slowly. “Is there one that’s not common knowledge?”
Val seemed to consider him for a moment, then he said, equally slowly, “I told you I had informants in the Five Families? Well, I have several in the Patriso and Pagliuca Families. The one in the Pagliuca Family isn’t talking, but there aren’t more than a handful of Patriso affiliates that are happy with what Fat Freddy’s been doing. It’s taken me almost a week, but enough consistent information has trickled down to me that I can begin to piece together what the Patriso thinks he’s doing, and what his underlings are doing.”
Stella ground her teeth, managed to say with all her attention concentrated on keeping her voice level, “And what’s that?”
“The Mafia Commission,” Val said, “is the governing force of the Five Families. Technically speaking, the other families – the Dellamonaca in Jersey, the Dell’ferrare in Boston –” Mac perked up at this; the new Boston family had been a matter of much debate among law enforcement and even the subject of a few bets among the Organized Crime Division and the FBI, if rumors were true “– the Rossi-Prete in Philadelphia, various capos across the country – answer to the Commission as well, but if they bother doing so it’s nothing more than a formality. If you want to whack a made guy, you take it before the Commission first. If they had their way, you’d ask them before you kneecapped a bookie that ripped you off, but they don’t have that much control over the Families. If you want to declare war, you take it before the Commission, and they’ll decide whether the situation merits that radical a reaction. If there’s a disagreement between two or more of the Families, it’ll go in front of the Commission. Danny doesn’t know it, but when he pissed off the Patriso the first time round, they tried to take it in front of the Commission and the capo di tutti capi – John Valachi of the Rocchegiani then – basically laughed them out of the room. Like I said, Constantine’s not one of the Families; we don’t answer to the Commission. This was before the Rocchegiani and Lancione bosses went to prison, and before Dante Dellacroce died. The old days.” His face was briefly thoughtful. “The Commission had better things to decide than the welfare of a couple kids that weren’t even amici nostri – they weren’t made yet,” he added, at the blank looks on Mac and Stella’s faces.
“O-kay,” she said. “What does this have to do with Darin Pagliuca?”
“Everything,” Val said. “I’m giving you background. Trying to deal with the Mafia is like trying to swim through molasses – it takes a long time, it’s stressful, and it’s hard.”
“I don’t know, you’re giving us information pretty quickly,” Stella said. “And if my friends in the FBI are to be believed, it’s information they’d sell their children for, and you’re just giving it out.”
“I have Danny’s word on you two,” Val said flatly. “He said you wouldn’t use any of this information for anything but solving your murder; my people are clean and I trust him.” He paused. “You should too.”
“I do trust Danny,” Stella snapped, a little hurt. “It’s you I don’t trust. How do we know what you’re giving us is any good?”
“You don’t and you shouldn’t,” he replied. “But if you think you can figure this out on your own, you’re welcome to try. I’ll have someone show you out.”
Stella snorted. “Well, I don’t have a problem with that,” she said, and started to stand up.
Mac put his hand on her elbow and pulled her back down. “We’ll stay,” he said. “Go on, Mr. Constantine.”
Val gave Stella a thoughtful look, not angry, just quiet and a little considering, then he turned his head back to Mac. “The capo di tutti capi today is Nicky Pagliuca – you already know that, I assume. Pagliuca’s the strongest of the Families; they have enough political pull to get just about anyone they want onto the Commission. Or off it. The Mafia tends to nepotism; you’ve probably noticed this.”
Mac nodded. “So Darin Pagliuca –”
“Oh, if Nicky died he wouldn’t become don; that position would go to his uncle, Carmine Pagliuca. There’s a line of succession that technically follows in most families: don, underboss, consigliere, street boss. Not all the Families follow it, though; wars have been fought over positions of power. Manny Caprio, the Lancione boss – his rise to power was the bloodiest in New York history. He’s not Lancione-born, not even on the wrong side of the sheets, but he had the firepower and the manpower to take out Salvo Lancione and his blood. There’s no one alive today with Lancione blood, not even in the other families that intermarried with them. Manny Caprio saw to that, and that’s one reason most of the Families won’t lift a finger to help the Lancione if they need it. They lost people too, one of them the Pagliuca don.”
“Caprio’s in jail,” Mac said.
“And Danny di Bonaventura, the acting boss, has spent the last five years trying to rebuild the Lancione’s relationships with the other Families. It’s not going well; most of them are still too pissed at losing some of their highest ranking guys to even consider it. Di Bonaventura’s got a chance, though, if Caprio never gets out; he’s got relatives with the Vita in the Rocchegiani Family. Going back to the Patriso, though – I’ve mentioned Fat Freddy is crazy?”
Mac nodded. “Once or twice.”
“The man has a hate-on for the Constantine Family. He’s not too fond of the Pagliuca either; back when Carlo Gambione was still head of the Commission they okayed a hit on Wild Bill Patriso after he pissed Francesco Pagliuca off big time. The hit went down in twenty-four hours; the next morning Wild Bill was found with his face blown off in his living room. Pagliuca took over the airports, Sam Smurra got the Patriso, and Freddy spent the next ten years working his way off from being Wild Bill’s disappointment of a son to becoming the Patriso boss. Let me tell you this: no one knows who whacked Smurra, but the Commission declared Freddy boss without even thinking twice about it the next day. It’s not wise to hold grudges in the Mafia, but we do it anyway, and the Patriso are a cut or two ahead in those sweepstakes. They don’t like the Commission because they hate answering to anyone, they don’t like the Pagliuca because Franco Pagliuca killed Wild Bill, they don’t like the Dellacroce because the Dellacroce are stuck up rich snobs with real political pull, they don’t like the Rocchegiani because fifty years ago the Rocchegiani War went down and the Patriso lost, they don’t like the Lancione because no one likes the Lancione, and they don’t like the Constantine because we’re not real Mafia and because Danny gave them their blackest eye since the Rocchegiani War.” There was a small pleased smile of proprietary pride on his face, then he wiped it off at Mac’s raised eyebrows.
Stella scowled. “How is what Danny did – whatever it was, I’m not too clear on that – so bad?”
Val’s mouth quirked slightly. “It wouldn’t be,” he said, “if Danny was an ordinary cop without any relation to the Mafia. But since he isn’t – since he’s Constantine – it’s treated the same way it would be if he was an ordinary soldier for the Constantine Family. Or,” he added, “if he was ultimus heres in truth, not just name. It’s not an affront from the NYPD to the Mafia, it’s an affront from one Family to another.”
“You keep saying Danny’s ultimus heres,” Stella said. “What the hell is that?”
It was Mac that answered, to her slight surprise. “Ultimus heres is Latin for the last heir,” he said. “It means he’s the only heir to the Constantine Family, is that right?” He looked faintly disturbed by this fact.
Val nodded. “We’re not one of the Commission Families,” he said. “The line of succession goes from father to son. I was sixteen when my father went to prison. In any other family, his underboss – Neil Sforza – would have become boss. Instead I got the job – in name, if not in truth for another year. I don’t have any kids. When I die, Danny will become boss, whether he likes it or not. At least in name. Carmine will probably handle everything, since I doubt he’d want control of the Family.”
“Does Danny know this?” Stella demanded.
“He should,” Val said. “I’m not sure if he wants to admit it, but he definitely knows it.”
Stella turned toward Mac. “Are you as freaked out by this as I am?” she demanded.
He gave her a slightly sheepish, slightly bewildered look. “I’m trying to take in the knowledge that one of my CSIs is heir to a Mafia family, if that’s what you mean. It’s a little like finding out –” He paused, then continued, “Well, I suppose it’s a little like finding out your boss is one of the Taylor Steel Taylors.”
Val’s eyebrows went up, but he didn’t say anything on that note. Instead, he continued, “To get to the point we’ve been dancing around for the better part of an hour, what I think happened is that Fat Freddy decided he wanted to take out two birds with one stone, so to speak, and set the Pagliuca and the Constantine against each other. Joey was nowhere near that warehouse the night Darin Pagliuca vanished; I have witnesses who’ll swear to that. You just didn’t believe them.”
“Carmine d’Alessandro, wasn’t it?” Stella said, raising her eyebrows. “That one I wouldn’t trust with my nonexistent daughters, let alone a witness statement.”
“You should; a d’Alessandro’s word is his life. One of the family mottoes should be familiar: fidelis ad mortem.”
Mac looked like he’d been slapped in the face. “Did they take that motto before or after the NYPD?” he asked finally.
Val smiled slightly. “They brought it over with them from Sicily,” he said, “so I wouldn’t know.”
Stella scowled. “I still wouldn’t trust him,” she said. “Even putting aside the fact he’s a criminal, I wouldn’t trust anyone whose family swears allegiance to one family but who gives their own allegiance to another. Faithful unto death my ass.”
Val’s smile turned into a frown. “You would have gotten along well with my father,” he said. “That’s what he said when I brought Carmine home. Giovanni and Orlando may have sworn to the Dellacroce, but Carmine never did. He’s Constantine in everything but his name; I trust him with my life. Moreover, I trust him with Danny’s life, something you probably find slightly more important.”
“Yeah? Where was he when Danny was getting shanghaied by your Patriso friends?”
“In the car behind them,” Val said, chin raising. “Emptying a clip into Johnnie Boy Marcatti. He still drives the same car; I think he does it to piss the Wren off.”
“Oh,” Stella said. “Wait – you had people following –”
Val said, “Do you want to hear about Darin Pagliuca or not?”
“Yes,” Mac said, and put a warning hand on Stella’s knee at her unhappy expression.
“The warehouse he was found at belongs to the Pagliuca Family,” he continued.
“Our results put the owner as a –” Mac flipped through his notebook “– Carl Bicchieri.”
“Pagliuca collateral,” Val said, waving a hand. “The Jeweler’s Nicky’s nephew, on his brother’s side. Darin had legitimate reason to be there that night; it would have been easy to find out what time he’d arrive. Or to set up an arrangement for him to arrive. That evening he had a meeting with Joey Sforza. Only thing is, Joey didn’t know anything about this and neither did I. Joey was with Carmine that night. Darin showed, and Billyclub was there to take him out and make it look like Joey did it. Billyclub works for Fat Freddy; he doesn’t even breathe without Freddy’s permission. There’s no way something like that goes down without Freddy breathing.”
“So how’d this guy Billyclub end up dead?” Stella asked, arching her eyebrows dubiously.
“I’m getting there,” Val said calmly. “What I think Fat Freddy wanted to do was to set Pagliuca against Constantine, which would give him an excuse to withdraw until we’d both killed each other, or decimated each other by enough that he could stroll in and grind down the pieces. If Pagliuca had thought Joey killed the heir, Darin – that’s cause for war, especially since Nicky’s capo di tutti capi. He can manipulate the Commission any way he wants. He says jump, they’ll say how high. The Commission very easily could have gone to war against Constantine, if they thought one of my guys had done for Darin.”
“But they didn’t,” Mac said.
He shook his head. “No, they didn’t. Which means they know, or at least Nicky know, that Constantine didn’t ice Darin. And that that corpse you found in the warehouse wasn’t Darin’s, but someone else’s. Someone who no one gives a damn about. I’m guessing you didn’t talk to many Pagliuca relatives when you conducted your initial investigation.”
Mac bit his lip. “We couldn’t get a hold of anyone,” he said reluctantly. “We IDed based on ID found on the victim’s person –”
“Billyclub’s about the same physical shape as Darin,” Val said. “Face is pretty different, but someone did for that. You pull any prints off the place?”
Mac and Stella shared a look, and then he said after a moment, “Only one with a positive match.”
“Roy Dimassi,” Stella said. “Alias the Sphinx. According to our friends the Feds, he’s been in the wind for the past year.”
Val arched one eyebrow, chin raising slightly to the side. “They obviously haven’t been looking very hard; he just returned from the Cayman Islands. And he’s a Patriso man through and through. At the same time he’s an opportunist; he’ll work for whoever in the Family offers him the most money. What I think happened is that Blue Eyes found out about his father’s plan somehow, and being just that much more sensible, he decided to turn it to his own ends. Kidnap Darin Pagliuca, leave law enforcement thinking that Billyclub is Darin, and he’s set with a fine hostage that will give him plenty of room to negotiate with Nicky. Take Nicky off the Commission; chances are his underboss Big Sammy Marione will take the throne. Big Sammy’s in Blue Eyes’ pocket; it’ll be almost the same thing as having Blue Eyes as boss.”
“Nicky Pagliuca would do that for his son?” Mac asked, looking faintly dubious.
Val blinked at him. “Wouldn’t you? I’d do it for Danny, if his life was on the line.”
Stella leaned back. “So why not just take out Fat Freddy? It sounds like Blue Eyes has his pick of hitmen.”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’m guessing it has something to do with the fact it’s his father that’s the one out for blood, not Blue Eyes. Vincent Patriso may have been his son, but Blue Eyes has always been more ambitious than retaliatory. If someone whacks a don, the Commission’s going to have someone out there looking for the iceman. They might not necessarily do anything about it, but –”
The door banged open and bounced against the wall. “Val,” Carmine d’Alessandro said, not even sparing a glance for Mac and Stella, “we got problems.”
“Can it wait?”
“No.” He shook his head, ran a hand over close-cropped red hair. “Someone just whacked Fat Freddy and Big Sammy and a bunch’a hawk soldiers. Mowed ‘em down in the middle of a Patriso joint, right in front of a room fulla civilians. Cops are already there, Feds are on their way. We got about five minutes before the Commission names another don; if you’re gonna nail Blue Eyes for anything you gotta do it now, before Nicky Pagliuca puts him on the throne.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-26 12:41 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-27 12:08 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-27 12:25 am (UTC)And pigs might fly....
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-26 04:32 am (UTC)Val really is an interesting guy, too; I like, here, his use of logic proofs to explain the situation. It's enjoyable to see him and Mac bouncing off each other -- watching them quote Latin at each other *would* be fun.
And, as always, this is just really detailed and intriguing, and leaves me excited for the next chapter.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-27 12:11 am (UTC)Well, it's not like I could write a story without someone getting shot. Besides, Flack? Could survive it.
Val really is an interesting guy, too; I like, here, his use of logic proofs to explain the situation. It's enjoyable to see him and Mac bouncing off each other -- watching them quote Latin at each other *would* be fun.
Val rocks. And he's - he's kind of like Mac too, except better adjusted and inclined toward crime instead of crime-solving. And I was thinking, the other day, how he says "my people are clean" in response to learning Danny's given Mafia information to Mac? It's the same thing your Mac says in Pretty Good Year about the Dove Commission.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-27 03:20 am (UTC)Flack is a Bumble. Bumbles bounce.
Or possibly a Weeble.
And he's - he's kind of like Mac too, except better adjusted and inclined toward crime instead of crime-solving. And I was thinking, the other day, how he says "my people are clean" in response to learning Danny's given Mafia information to Mac? It's the same thing your Mac says in Pretty Good Year about the Dove Commission.
Oh! I didn't even make that connection, but you're right. It just points up even more strongly how much alike they are in a lot of the fundamental ways, despite their different choices in, ah, career paths. It's that same sense of loyalty, the inability to even *consider* that any of his people might be dirty, because they're *his*. He picked them, he knows them. The possibility of going astray doesn't even exist. If the two of them were able to get past the whole criminal/crime-fighter thing, they could be good friends.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-29 01:40 am (UTC)If Val was canon I would totally slash them.They are, aren't they? I hadn't realized it when I started writing Val, but...he's like a slightly more normal Mac. Uh, relatively speaking, that is.Plus, Carmine is totally his Stella. Except prettier, if possible.My mind isn't working right now. At all.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-30 12:07 am (UTC)If Val was canon I would totally slash them.you totally still could, you know, even in a side story that's not part of Omerta canon. help assuage my guilt over slashing Mac with my own original character. *cough*
They are, aren't they? I hadn't realized it when I started writing Val, but...he's like a slightly more normal Mac. Uh, relatively speaking, that is. Plus, Carmine is totally his Stella. Except prettier, if possible.
Carmine is totally pretty. And yeah, everything has to be looked at in relative terms, but Val does strike me as being vastly more centered and self-aware than Mac tends to be.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-31 11:45 pm (UTC)you totally still could, you know, even in a side story that's not part of Omerta canon. help assuage my guilt over slashing Mac with my own original character. *cough*but I can't think of a way to get them together. *pokes at vague AU idea*Carmine is totally pretty. And yeah, everything has to be looked at in relative terms, but Val does strike me as being vastly more centered and self-aware than Mac tends to be.
Carmine is the prettiest underboss in the Mafia
and he and Val are so totally sleeping together. Val had very good parental influences, although I'm pretty sure his mother died when he was still pretty young, and his father was busy with Mafia stuff, but there was Neil Sforza and Angela, and various other Constantine Family members. Plus, he had three very good friends growing up, who are still with him today.