Mob Lawyer 5: A Legal Thriller

by Dave Daren

  “There’s a lot of red tape,” Hisashi said as he spread his hands in supplication. “We need subpoenas to double-check the information that we have. We have to have everything authenticated. It takes time.”

  “It’s been weeks,” I said.

  “We’re getting closer,” the older fed reassured. “They’ve just proven that they’re getting nervous. We’ll have to move fast if they’re onto us.”

  “You’re not moving fast enough,” Anthony growled. “My mother was in that house. My uncle was almost shot. I can’t wait around hoping that they don’t come here again.”

  “What are you going to do?” Monroe sneered. “Kill them all.”

  “Of course not,” I said with a look at my client.

  “You can’t deal with this the old way,” Hisashi said with a sympathetic look. “Trust me, kid. We’ll take care of it. If you go after the Serbians, then you’ll have a whole mob war on your hand, and more of your people will be hurt. You’ve got to trust the system.”

  Anthony gave a derisive snort as he rolled his eyes and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

  “You do things your way, and I’ll do things my way,” he said after he’d taken a calming breath in.

  “Why don’t you come to my house?” I asked as an idea sprang to mind. “You can stay there so that you’re safe. They don’t have any idea where I live, yet. And your family won’t be targeted as long as they’re too busy looking for you. It’ll buy the FBI time to dot their I’s and cross their T’s.”

  “That sounds like a solid plan,” the bald agent said. “Look, I know I can’t tell you what to do. But, if you can give me just a little more time, then we’ll take care of this. The legal way.”

  “Or you can go start a war,” Monroe added. “And give me a reason to arrest you.”

  “We’ll talk about it,” I said before Anthony could step up and punch the younger agent. “I assure you that my client will not be involved in any retaliation plans. However, those arrests need to happen before another attack, or I’ll hold the FBI responsible for any injuries that occur to my client or his family.”

  “Of course,” Hisashi said with a nod. “Monroe, let’s go.”

  He practically shoved the taller man toward the ancient Crown Vic, and I could hear him scolding the younger agent as they climbed into their car.

  “I was serious about you staying at my house,” I said as I waved goodbye to the federal agents.

  “I know,” Anthony said.

  “It’ll be for the best if you stay underground for a few days,” I said while we walked back into the house.

  I hadn’t seen anyone else arrive as we’d talked to the agents, but somehow there were servants and workers everywhere. I saw someone come in from the back door and realized that whoever Gulia had called must have taken the back way to avoid the feds. There was already a small army at work cleaning the house and measuring the windows for new glass, and I could hear more people moving around in other parts of the house.

  “This is unbelievable,” I said as we started to climb the stairs.

  I wasn’t sure if I was referring to the attack, or the clean-up effort that was already underway, but my statement could probably apply to both.

  “We were lucky,” Anthony muttered as he looked over the railing at the debris still scattered around the entryway.

  I nodded as I watched an older woman start to mop up a pool of blood, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as I realized how close I’d come to losing my client.

  We crossed the landing in silence, though I could still feel the anger coming off Anthony in waves. He was calmer, but just barely.

  “I was serious about my offer,” I said.

  “Don’t worry, Hunter,” my client said as he opened the office door. “I’ll be coming to your house.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Sal said from behind his desk when we walked in.

  Jovanni sat in one of the guest chairs while Tomasso leaned against one of the bookshelves. The capo turned to look at us, gave us a grim nod, and then looked back at the head of the Febbo family.

  “Do you have a plan?” Anthony asked as he took the other chair.

  “What, you’re not going to wait for the feds?” his father sneered.

  The two men stared at each other for a few tense moments before Anthony gave a shake of his head.

  “They’ve had their chance,” the younger mobster said. “They’ve had the information for weeks and not one arrest has been made.”

  I clamped my mouth shut as I fought against the urge to tell them to be patient. I’d already asked them to wait long enough, and because the feds were dragging their feet the house had been shot up. I was furious that the Serbians had attacked the house, and if I was being honest with myself, then I had to admit that I wanted them to pay for threatening the Febbo family.

  The law was an amazing tool, but only if people actually used it. I still believed that it was the best way to go, and that the FBI would eventually make some kind of move, but I couldn’t convince Anthony and Sal to wait any longer when their home had just been destroyed. I would just have to settle with making sure that none of it could be pinned on my client.

  “I can have the guys together by tomorrow night,” Jovanni said. “Do you know who did it?”

  “No,” Anthony said. “I only saw the flash of their muzzles. I know that the order had to have come from Galic, though.”

  “We have to be careful,” Sal said with a look toward me.

  “Hunter can be trusted,” my client said.

  His father narrowed his eyes at me, but then he nodded like he’d decided to trust me. He probably wanted to give me just enough rope to hang myself with if I decided to go to the police with what I knew, but he was seriously underestimating how loyal I was to my client, and how angry I was that someone had tried to kill him.

  “After he took out that guard,” Jovanni chuckled. “I’d believe that he’s loyal. I’ve never seen a lawyer with fists like that.”

  “He’s one of a kind,” Anthony said with a smirk. “Alright, so we assemble the guys, and we make sure that we know who did it. This can’t be done sloppily. Only take out the people that were involved. And do it quietly. I don’t want it to lead back to us in any way”

  “The feds will know that it was us,” I warned. “At least if it happens in the next few days.”

  “True,” my client said. “But they won’t be able to prove it.”

  “And you’ll be at my house,” I said. “So they won’t be able to connect you to it. Especially with my security system showing you on camera footage.”

  “Good idea,” Sal agreed. “It’ll keep your nose clean. Jovanni and I can handle the details.”

  “I want to be kept informed,” the younger mafioso said as he pushed himself out of his chair. “And you and mom should go to the safehouse in Brooklyn while the house is being repaired.”

  “I’ll call you when we get there,” Sal said before he turned his attention to me. “You make sure that no one finds your house.”

  I bobbed my head and then followed Anthony out of the office with Tommaso on my heels. I could hear the two made men discussing their plan, but I tuned their voices out so that I would have plausible deniability for whatever came next.

  “I’ll stay at your house tonight, too,” Tom said. “It won’t hurt to have an extra set of hands around, just in case.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said. “Pack for a few days. You’ll be sleeping on the sofa couch.”

  “Yes, sir,” the paralegal said.

  “You may want to bring a gun, if you have one,” I said. “You’ll need to keep Anthony company while I attend court and do more of my own research into the Serbians.”

  “No problem,” Tommaso said with a shrug. “I can be at your house in two hours. Should I pick anything up on the way?”

  “Pizza,” I laughed. “And maybe some wine.”

  “We’ll take some of that from the cellar,�
� Anthony said. “Mom would have a fit if we drank anything that didn’t come from grandpa’s vineyards.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jovanni’s nephew laughed.

  The curly-haired man nodded at both of us before he trotted down the stairs. He was a good kid, an even better paralegal, and I was grateful that he’d be able to help me protect Anthony as well.

  I followed my client down the hall toward his room and stood guard as he packed. I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t want to make it worse, so I just stayed silent as the young mafioso tossed suits, shoes, and a few knives into a suitcase.

  “We need to say goodbye to mom before we leave,” Anthony said as he zipped up the bag.

  “Of course,” I said.

  The bottom level of the house was even more frantic than when we’d climbed the stairs. Reinforcements had arrived in droves. Someone was already repairing the holes left in the walls, and I even spotted a sheet of glass ready for installation.

  “You’re leaving,” Gulia said to Anthony when she walked through the living room and spotted us.

  “I’ll be at Hunter’s for a few days,” my client said while he swept his mother up into a tight hug. “You and pops will be in Brooklyn until the rest of the house is repaired.”

  “Oh, I haven’t been there in so long,” the matriarch said with a smile. “I’ll need to check the kitchen to see if it’s stocked. Hunter, do you have food at your house? Katerina and I can bring something over.”

  “I’ll never turn down your cooking,” I said. “But Tommaso has been grocery shopping, so my kitchen has enough food.”

  “Tommaso is such a fine young man,” the auburn-haired woman said. “I’m glad that he’s working for you.”

  “We need wine, though,” Anthony said.

  “Of course, you do,” Gulia said. “You wait right here. I have a few bottles in the kitchen that you can take with you. It’s from this year’s release, and it’s so sweet it could be a dessert wine.”

  “Thank you,” my client said with a warm grin.

  I watched the beautiful woman breeze through the house as if there hadn’t been a shoot-out only a few hours ago. I wondered how many she’d lived through, and how she managed to keep out of the family business when it came knocking so loudly on her front door.

  The wonderful matriarch returned a few minutes later with a basket in her hands. It had three wine bottles nestled into a bed of what looked like recycled paper, and she’d written a note about each bottle so that we knew what to eat with them. She handed the basket to her son, gave him a hug, and then nodded to me before she wrapped me in a bear hug as well.

  “You call me as soon as you get to the house,” Gulia warned.

  “Yes, ma’am,” we both said in unison.

  Neither of us talked on the way out of the house or on the drive back to Floral Park.

  I could only imagine what was going through my client’s mind, and I didn’t want to poke the hornet's nest. I had my own thoughts to contend with as I struggled with the rage I had toward the Serbians and my need to trust the law. I knew that the feds would do what they could, but it was taking too long, and I had to admit that I wanted a little vengeance, too.

  “So this is your house?” Anthony asked when we walked through the garage into the hallway. “It’s nice. A little small if you want to start a family.”

  “That’s not going to happen any time soon,” I chuckled.

  I let the mafioso lead the conversation as he asked questions about the furniture that I’d bought, my plans for the house, and then he hinted that Liz might one day come to live with me. I was sure that he was trying to distract himself from what he knew his father and Jovanni were planning, the shoot-out, and his own part in all of it, so I did my best to keep him occupied.

  Tomasso showed up half an hour after we did. He had a massive pizza, a pack of cards, and a bright smile as he dropped everything off and challenged us to a poker tournament. The young paralegal had us both laughing late into the night, and I even managed to win a few rounds.

  It was almost three a.m. when I finally poured myself into bed. I didn’t have any court hearings the next day so I didn’t bother to set an alarm. I did check the security system to make sure that no one was trying to sneak in, and let out a sigh of relief when the coast was clear. I tossed and turned for the rest of the night as I worried about the next few days and how I was going to keep my client out of trouble.

  I must’ve drifted off to sleep at some point, though, because I woke to the sound of my phone ringing next to my ear. I jumped, looked at the bleary caller ID to see that it was Hisashi, and then held the phone up to my ear with a mumbled greeting.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” the fed said. “You need to get your asses down to Gryffon. Now.”

  Chapter 17

  “Huh?” I muttered as I sat up and ran my hand down my face.

  I’d had way too much of the rich wine that Gulia had supplied us with, and my head felt like someone had stuffed it full of cotton balls. I needed a shower, a glass of water, and one of the espressos that Tommaso was so good at making.

  “Get down to Gryffon,” Hisashi repeated. “Now. You have forty-five minutes.”

  Without another word the FBI agent hung up, and I was left sitting up in bed staring at the wall as I tried to figure out what the hell was happening. I threw the covers off, went to the bathroom, and then padded down the hallway to my guest bedroom.

  “What?” Anthony snapped when I knocked on the door for the third time.

  “Hisashi said we have forty-five minutes to get to Gryffon,” I called through the thick wooden slab. “You have ten minutes before we have to be pulling out of the driveway.”

  I heard a grunt from the other side of the door and figured that was good enough. I took the quickest shower that I could, ran some pomade through my hair, and slipped into my suit.

  The smell of coffee wafted down the hallway when I came out of my bedroom, and I found Tom in the kitchen with to-go mugs on the counters. The paralegal was in the process of removing two foil-wrapped breakfast burritos from the toaster oven, and the smell of eggs and cheese made my mouth water.

  “These should get you by,” the curly-haired man said as he handed me one of them. “Here’s some hot sauce packets so you can eat them while you drive.”

  “Ready to go?” Anthony asked as he strolled over and grabbed the coffee that Tom pointed to.

  My client looked as fresh as the morning dew with a bright smile and a perfectly pressed suit. He had even found time to shave and style his hair.

  “How?” I asked before I snagged my coffee and took a sip.

  “I grew up on that wine,” the mafioso laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ll be alright in an hour.”

  “Until then,” I grumbled as I retrieved my briefcase and keys. “Tom, I don’t know how long I’ll be out. Who knows what the feds want… but if anything comes up, feel free to text me. And keep an eye on the cameras. The Serbians might decide to pay me a visit, too.”

  “Yes, sir,” the young paralegal said with a nod of his head.

  I didn’t think that Galic had found out my new address yet, but I also didn’t want to let my guard down after the Serbians had so brazenly shot up my client’s house. I looked around to make sure the red lights on the security cameras were active, and then led Anthony out to the garage.

  The LIE was packed with cars, but the coffee was strong, and the breakfast burrito kept me from reaching new levels of road rage as I weaved in and out of traffic. I was fully awake and ready for whatever Hisashi had planned by the time I took the exit that would take us to the Bronx.

  “What do you think he wanted?” Anthony asked.

  The mafioso had been quiet for most of the drive. He’d busied himself with the giant bacon, egg, and cheese stuffed breakfast burrito that Tommaso had made and sipped slowly at his caffeine infusion. He crumpled the now empty foil, dropped it into the small plastic bag that I kept for trash, and then downed the
rest of the strong espresso.

  “Hisashi?” I asked. “No idea. With any luck, they’ll finally be making a move against Gryffon. The old man probably wants to do something before you have the chance to retaliate.”

  Anthony grunted, but I was pleased to see that he didn’t look entirely disappointed by the prospect. I’d had enough time to cool down, and it seemed like my client had, too. I knew that he still wanted to make the family legit, but if he went through with his plan for revenge, then there would be no turning back.

  I found a parking spot in one of the alleyways near the Gryffon building, grabbed my briefcase, and then climbed out of my car. I checked my surroundings as I locked the car, just in case Galic had any goons waiting for me, and then walked out onto the sidewalk with Anthony right beside me.

  The building was teeming with uniformed officers and FBI agents in cheap suits. Someone had set up a makeshift podium, complete with a microphone and speakers, and the cops were in the middle of putting up a velvet rope barrier when the first of the news vans screeched to a stop in the cordoned-off parking spots.

  “It looks like something big is about to go down,” Anthony said as we strolled across the street.

  “Webber and Flores are ready for their big appearance,” I said.

  The mayor and the chief of police had just arrived. They climbed out of the mayor’s town car with his assistant in tow. The man was on the phone with someone as he tried to carry a file, his briefcase, and a coffee that Webber snatched out of his hand to drink.

  “Naturally,” Anthony said in a dry tone.

  His ears had turned a dark red, but my client managed to keep a small smile despite the hatred that burned in his eyes for the two men.

  “Let’s just find Hisashi and ask him what the hell is going on,” I said.

  I scoured the area for the bald agent, but the feds that rushed back and forth were new to me. I noticed a windowless black van as it rolled up and stopped in the middle of the street, and several cop cars blocked off the road so that no one could come in or out. I tamped down on my excitement as I wondered if the FBI was finally making their move, and almost let out a shout of joy when Hisashi and Monroe came out of the Gryffon building.