MOB RULES

by Richard Nesbitt

Harris wore no expression, he simply looked down upon the man, with a blank stare. It had a chilling effect and Rabi was unsure how to respond. He watched Harris closely as the man paced back and forth, tapping the knife against his leg with his right hand. For the longest time the two simply stared at each other, each waiting on the other to make the first move, to say something. It was Rabi who cracked first.

  “You think I’m afraid of the joint, vato? I’ll live like a fucking king,” he spoke in a thick Hispanic accent, purposefully accentuating his words to show off his Chicano blood.

  Harris said nothing, showed no emotion. The pain in his hand was excruciating but he did not let on. He simply stopped pacing and locked eyes with the gang leader. Rabi was used to anger, fear, hatred. Emotion of some kind. It was upsetting him that Harris wouldn’t give him anything. The policeman’s face was a blank canvas. He could have been staring into a bowl of soup.

  “You’re a real bad ass, huh?” Rabi spat nervously. It was his turn to swallow involuntarily and Harris could see that he was getting to him.

  “Well go ahead, homes!” The young man yelled as he felt himself losing control. “Either do me or take me to jail! Either way I don’t give a fuck!”

  Harris, keeping his eyes locked on his prisoner, resumed his pacing. He walked slowly and deliberately from one side of the room to the other, all the while staring blankly into Rabi’s face. It had the desired effect. Harris knew he couldn’t approach the hard core gang banger with ferocity or try to use normal fear tactics. Rabi was used to that. He would simply view it as a test of wills, a test of machismo, and he would die before he gave in. Harris knew he had to throw him off kilter. Get into his head. He knew what was coming. Rabi did not.

  “Do it, motherfucker! Kill me!” Rabi screamed as he grew more agitated. “You a bad ass, so do it!”

  Harris stepped towards the man and knelt. He was a mere two feet away.

  “Tell me who hired you?” he asked, showing no emotion. Blank-faced and stoic, he stared into Rabi’s eyes. “Tell me and you can go be the king of the prison yard.”

  “Fuck you, man,” Rabi growled. It calmed him slightly that Harris had finally spoke. “Go ahead and kill me. I’ll show you how a real man dies.”

  Harris relented and offered the gang leader a quizzical smirk.

  “You keep saying that,” Harris said. “Do you really think I plan on killing you?”

  Rabi glared at him, saying nothing. Nervously, he looked down to the knife, still covered in Harris’ blood.

  “No, I’m not going to kill you,” Harris said calmly as he smiled. “But you are going to prison for a very long time.”

  Rabi threw his head back on the carpet and laughed. He laughed from the gut and it was sincere, fueled in no small part from the relief of hearing that he would live. Harris smiled down at him and said nothing, he merely watched the young man enjoy himself.

  After a few moments, the gang leader finally finished and flashed Harris a broad grin. He continue to chuckle as he shook his head.

  “I knew you was a bitch.”

  “You didn’t really think I was going to murder you, did you?” Harris asked with his own wide smile.

  “I know you want to,” Rabi said with a proud smirk. “But you don’t have the cajones to do what I do.”

  Harris smiled and nodded slowly.

  “Interesting choice of words, Rabi. Very interesting, indeed.”

  The smile left the young man’s face as he tried to decipher the statement.

  “Who put the hit on me?” Harris asked.

  “Fuck you.”

  “Who put the hit on my family?”

  “Fuck you and your family.”

  This time it was Harris’ turn to laugh. He took his time and after a few seconds, stopped and smiled broadly at Rabi.

  “Oh man, you are making this way too easy. I will ask you just one more time.”

  “Fuck you one more time,” Rabi interjected.

  “Who placed the hit?”

  “Your mother,” Rabi spat.

  “Excellent,” Harris replied. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  The police officer stood and walked to the closest wall. As Rabi had done earlier, Harris thrust the blade of the hunting knife into the drywall. Then he turned and walked back to Rabi and once again knelt in front of him. He reached for the man’s pants and started to undo the top bottom.

  “Yo, man?! What the fuck are you doing, man!?” Rabi screamed as he thrashed and tried to roll away from Harris. Bound and helpless, the gang leader was no match for the much stronger Harris who held him easily as he undid the buttons of the man’s jeans. Rabi changed tactics and lashed out with a vicious, two legged kick. It found its mark and caught Harris against the side of his head. Harris rocked back on his heels and caught himself with his right hand before falling over backwards. He paused momentarily and then nodded at Rabi in recognition of a solid hit. Jumping forward, Harris straddled Rabi’s chest. He threw a hammer fist that caught the Loco’s leader flush on the cheek. A second punch found its mark and caught Rabi on the chin. The young man lost consciousness for a second time. Harris went back to work on the man’s pants.

  Several minutes passed and when Rabi finally came around, Harris was squatting beside him. The knife was back in his hand. Still groggy, Rabi looked down and saw that he was completely naked from the waist down. His jeans and boxer shorts were bunched around his ankles.

  “Yo man! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He yelled as this realization cleared the cobwebs from his brain.

  “No, Rabi,” Harris spoke as he stared the man directly in the eye. “I’m not going to kill you. You are going to prison and you are going to be a very old man by the time you get out. If you get out.”

  “Put my fucking pants back on you puto motherfucker!” Rabi screamed hysterically. Spit flew from the corners of his mouth.

  “The only question that remains is this,” Harris continued. “Are you going in as a rooster or as a hen?”

  Without warning he thrust his wounded left hand down and grabbed for Rabi’s groin. With his remaining three fingers and thumb, Harris secured the man’s testicles in an iron grip. He then pulled outwards, stretching them as far from the man’s torso as they would go. Rabi let out a scream as he kicked and fought but Harris held on easily. Harris then lowered the hunting knife below his left hand and placed the blade against the skin at the base of the scrotum. Rabi stopped thrashing immediately. He froze, knowing any dramatic movement might cut him, and stared wild eyed and panicked into the face of Harris.

  “You know what a gelding is, Rabi?” Harris asked calmly.

  The young man said nothing as he stared up in shock. His lips trembled and he felt real fear. Gone completely was the bravado and defiance.

  “I asked you a question, Rabi,” Harris asked, smiling at the young man. “Do you know what a gelding is?”

  Rabi shook his head desperately.

  “A gelding is a horse that has his nuts removed,” Harris answered. “If the owners aren’t going to breed the horse, they find that removing his balls calms him down a lot, makes him much easier to manage.”

  Harris increased his pressure, pulling the gang leader’s scrotum out as Rabi thrust his hips forward trying to alleviate the pressure.

  “It’s actually quite effective. The horse really loses all of its fight and becomes very docile.”

  “Please, man,” Rabi whimpered. “You’re a cop.”

  “Do you know what it will be like for you in prison without your cajones, Rabi? The homeboy’s will fight each other to make you their bitch.”

  Rabi couldn’t answer, only stare up at Harris with wide, imploring eyes.

  “And that’s not exactly a secret you can keep in the joint. Everyone will know.”

  Harris pulled the knife away from the man’s scrotum. He held it up for inspection as Rabi had done with him.

  “This thing cut through my finger pretty fucking quick. I’ll bet it’l
l cut your nuts off with just one slice.”

  Harris lowered the blade and once again laid it at the base of the man’s scrotum. He made a quick motion as if he was going to start cutting.

  “Nooooo!” Rabi screamed. Tears rolled down his face as he realized that he wasn’t nearly as tough as he thought he was. “Stop man! I’ll tell you anything you want to know! I’ll fucking tell you everything!”

  The Loco’s leader began sobbing and Harris scowled and pulled once again on the man’s balls as he set his jaw, looking determined to finish the project. He flexed his muscles and readied the knife.

  “Nooooo!” Rabi screamed a second time, as he lost control of his bladder. With the man’s groin in his hand, Harris was able to direct the stream of urine upwards and the gang leader, quite literally, pissed in his own face.

  “You better get used to that taste, Rabi,” Harris laughed.

  “Please, man. Please stop,” the emasculated, soon to be former leader of the Loco’s cried out. His shoulders shook as he sobbed with fear. He was done. Beaten.

  Harris nodded at him, but his eyes still blazed.

  “Start talking.”

  Mob Rules

  51

  The E.R. sent Harris directly up to the third floor where he now lay in bed inside a private room. After a hurried discussion between specialists, the lead surgeon had broken the news to him. There was no point in trying to reattach the finger. Too much time had passed and the nerve damage was beyond repair. It didn’t matter much to Harris. He had the information he had been after. It had cost him dearly, almost his life, but he now knew where the threat against his family originated. He now knew what he would do. All in all, if had it cost just a pinky finger, then it was well worth it.

  Deputy Commissioner Shannon stood at the foot of his bed. He held a stoic gaze as he stared down at his charge. He had a very fine line to walk. Harris was his friend, but he was also an underling. And he had violated many rules of engagement. And to top it off, there were four dead civilians, albeit gang members, that had to be accounted for. Furthermore, Harris had been rescued by mobsters. The press had not yet gotten wind of who the guardian angels were but when they did it would be a media field day. They had to be ready for the barrage of questions and the accusations that were sure to follow.

  “You need to spell it out very slowly, Jimmy,” he said calmly. “Why in the hell would Tony Scalaro help you?”

  “It’s simple, Blake. He thinks I’m going to find out who the snitch is and give him the information.”

  “And why exactly would he think that?”

  “You mean did I ever promise him that?” Harris asked.

  “Okay, let’s go with that.”

  “Not in so many words. But he pretty much told me that’s what he expects and I didn’t disagree.”

  “Jesus Christ, Jimmy,” Shannon placed a hand to his forehead. The look on his face told the story. This could be a serious black eye against the NYPD. Damage control was at defcon five.

  “Blake, what are you worried about?” Harris asked nonchalantly. “It’s not like Scalaro is going to give interviews and even if he did, he sure as hell isn’t going to tell them that.”

  “Jimmy, try to understand our position. A New York police captain has promised the underboss of the city’s largest mafia crime family to give up a C.I. in order to further his own self interests.”

  “Self-interests?” Harris repeated, a sour expression on his face.

  “That’s how it will be seen.” Shannon stood his ground. “And add to that a gun battle in which four gang members are mowed down by the same mafia family in order to rescue this captain.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now how would they know about your little covert operation and we did not?”

  “Because they’re the ones who told me where to find that group of psychopathic murderers.”

  “And how did they know that?”

  “Simple, they have a lot better contacts on the street.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why the hell you didn’t include us!” Shannon snapped. “Do you have any idea the shit storm you caused?”

  “Blake,” Harris spoke plainly. “I can understand why you’re upset. I get it. I do. But there wasn’t time.”

  “Bullshit! Don’t you play me, Jimmy! Not me!”

  Shannon glared down at Harris as he tried to control his growing anger.

  “What do you want me to say, Blake?”

  “You don’t have to say shit. But don’t talk to me like I don’t know the score. Your family is out of the way and safe, there is no ticking clock. You wanted to get a hold of this gang leader so you could get information on who placed the hit. Your way.”

  “And? Are you telling me that you wouldn’t do the same if it were Sandra and your kids’ lives at stake?”

  “No, I wouldn’t have,” Shannon answered with exasperation. “This may come as a shock to you, but most of us cops believe in each other. Most of us trust our brothers to have our backs. I would have followed procedure.”

  Harris remained silent. There was nothing left to say.

  “Who in the hell do you think we are, the goddamn Boy Scouts? We have people who are specialists in extracting information. We have teams who could have taken Rabi down without loss of life. By the books.”

  “Hey, I had no idea that Scalaro was watching the place. It’s not like I asked him to guard me.”

  “But it happened!” Shannon raised his voice again. “And it never should have! Not to mention the fact that Scalaro is going to expect you to deliver on your end! What the hell do you think he’s going to do if you don’t come through for him? The devil is an exacting dance partner, Jimmy! You of all people should know that!”

  “What do you want, Blake?” Harris looked with sincere compassion to his longtime friend and boss. He understood the position he had put him in and empathized with the man’s stress. “My resignation?”

  Blake Shannon shook his head slowly and looked towards the floor. He gathered his thoughts and sighed loudly as he knew that further discussion was futile and unnecessary. He raised his head and smiled at Harris.

  “Jimmy, you’re a local hero. Having you quit would be even worse than this mess. Just do me a favor and don’t talk to anybody. We need to figure out how to spin this.”

  Harris offered a tight lipped nod of agreement.

  “How’s the hand feel?”

  “It hurts like shit, but the pain meds they gave me are taking the edge off.”

  “Jesus, man,” Blake said as he put on his friend hat. “I can’t even imagine what that must have been like.”

  “Well, you don’t have to. I believe there is video tape,” Harris managed a laugh.

  “Yeah,” Shannon said with a sour look. “I don’t really want to see it but I guess I’m going to have to eventually.”

  “It was pretty intense. I thought I was a dead man.”

  There was a soft knock on the door and both men turned to look.

  The police officer guarding the room, stuck his head inside.

  “You okay to see a couple friends?”

  Before Harris could answer the door pushed open and Sylvia rushed into the room followed closely by Christi. The police officer started to protest and Harris threw a hand up and smiled at the man.

  “All good,” he said.

  “Oh my God, Jimmy!” Sylvia exclaimed loudly as she rushed to his bedside. She bent over and pressed her face into his as she wrapped him in a fierce hug. “You crazy son of a bitch! I thought we lost you!”

  “Hello, Sylvia,” he answered with a slight laugh.

  He looked past her, over her shoulder, and saw Christi. The young woman stood silently in the center of the room. Her eyes were brimming with tears as she bit her lip and struggled for control. The two stared at each other in silence as Sylvia continued to cling to him.

  “Hey kid,” he finally spoke.

  It was too much and she threw a hand over her mout
h as the tears fell freely.

  “Uhhhm, okay Jimmy.” Shannon spoke awkwardly. “I guess I‘ll be heading out now.”

  Sylvia straightened upon hearing his voice. She hadn’t known he was in the room until he spoke.

  “Hello Deputy Commissioner,” she spoke with a smile. She extended her hand.

  “Ma’am,” Shannon responded with a head nod, shaking her hand respectfully.

  “Take care, Blake,” Harris said. “And we will work all this out. I promise you that.”

  Shannon merely smiled at him and walked towards the door. He nodded a hello to Christi. She did not notice.

  “Come here,” Harris spoke softly.

  Christi walked to his bedside. She looked down upon his bandaged hand and then reached out to softly touch it.

  “Dear God, Jimmy,” she spoke with a hush.

  “It’s nothing,” he assured her.

  “I heard what happened. It’s not nothing.”

  “Well,” he responded. “No point in talking about it. It’s over.”

  She reached a hand out and placed it gently upon his cheek.

  “Okay,” Sylvia spoke. “I’m going to go get some coffee. Does anybody want some?”

  Christi was unaware that she had been asked a question.

  “I think we’re good, Sylvia,” Harris answered for the both of them. He lifted his head to smile at the older woman.

  Sylvia gave him a wry smile in return. Shaking her head and rolling her eyes towards the heavens she turned and exited the room.

  Christi stared down at Harris and struggled to control her bottom lip from trembling.

  “It’s okay, Christi. I’m fine.”

  “You almost died.”

  “But I didn’t.”

  “You got lucky.”

  Harris paused and then slowly nodded in agreement.

  “Well, sometimes you need luck.”

  Christi stroked his face with her hand. Harris took hold of her hand. Giving it a soft squeeze he lowered it from his face but he held on.

  “I’m sorry,” Christi apologized in embarrassment. “It’s just that I thought-we thought that we’d lost you.”

  “Still here,” Harris replied with a soft grin.