Mob Lawyer 6: A Legal Thriller

by Dave Daren

  “Did you beat him up?” the beefy Italian man asked and peeked under the first blue tarp.

  There was an electric-blue Chevy Corvette underneath that looked like it had just come from the factory. Whoever owned it must’ve just picked it up, just like the Enzo, and was probably just discovering that it was missing.

  “Of course not,” I said. “I just persuaded him that stealing from Anthony Febbo wasn’t the smartest thing that he could do if he wanted to live a long and successful life.”

  “Shit,” Hank laughed and shook his head. “You can be terrifying when you want to be. You know that?”

  “I’m a lawyer,” I shrugged and checked under the next tarp. “It’s part of the job description.”

  We checked the entire line of cars and found varying levels of high-end cars. Most of them could’ve been driven off the lot earlier in the day, but there were a couple that might’ve been in the hands of private collectors. I wrote down the VIN of each one so that I could have Gabriele check on them later, and then Hank and I headed back into the warehouse to wait for Dian to come fetch us.

  The businessman didn’t take long. The side door that we’d come through earlier creaked on its hinges as it swung inward, and Dian strolled through with his fake smile in place.

  “Mr. Morgan, sorry to keep you waiting,” he announced with a glance at Hank. “And I see that you brought your bodyguard.”

  “I did,” I said. “After the visit that I had from your friend, Officer White, I thought that it was best to have someone with me. As a witness, you understand.”

  “Of course,” the Vietnamese man said and lifted his hands in supplication. “But you must understand that the business with Officer White was just a formality. I would never dream of hurting someone that worked so closely with the Febbos.”

  “Naturally,” I retorted. “How’s the Enzo coming along? I hope for your sake that it will be here by Monday.”

  “The Enzo,” Dian shoved his hands in his pockets and looked around like he was trying to find the right lie to tell me. “That particular car is out of my reach. I can offer some very nice replacements. We just had a batch that came in. I would be happy to sell any one of them to you or Mr. Febbo.”

  “Sell?” Hank asked and stepped forward with his hand on his gun. “You expect Mr. Febbo to buy a car from you?”

  “I am running a business,” the salt and pepper-haired man said as he took a step back. “It wouldn’t be prudent to just give you a car for free.”

  “It wouldn’t be prudent to think that you can steal from the Febbos and not suffer the repercussions,” the beefy Italian warned. “Hunter has been very generous by giving you until Monday. You don’t want to find out what happens if you don’t deliver.”

  The small-framed Vietnamese man looked like a child next to Hank’s hulking figure, and he gulped when he looked up into my bodyguard’s eyes.

  The large Italian man’s face was bright red with anger, and I stepped forward to put my hand on his shoulder before he did anything that would make negotiations more difficult.

  “Maybe we could just go over your head,” I said. “Why don’t you ask your boss what he would like you to do?”

  I watched Dian’s face as shock flashed across it to quickly be covered with false bravado. He straightened the cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt and then pulled his shoulders back so that he stood as tall as possible. His chin was lifted into the air, and he stared down Hank like he hadn’t been scared only a few seconds ago.

  “I run my own business, Mr. Morgan,” the businessman said. “And I have the final say. Now, I believe I told you that I can’t get the Enzo back. Your employer must give up this foolish quest to have it. It is unfortunate that it was his car, but he can afford another one. And, just to show that I mean well, I will give him the pick of my new inventory. I’ll even let him have one free of charge.”

  It took every ounce of self-control that I had not to deck Dian right in his smug face. I glanced over at Hank to see that my bodyguard was about to lose his usual calm composure, and decided that it was best to leave for the moment.

  “I’m sure you will,” I said. “Just like you’ll have the Enzo back by Monday. I really don’t want to have to make another visit, Mr. Pham. And despite this little show you have going, I know that you’re smart enough not to cross the Febbo family. So, I’ll give you until your original deadline. And if you can’t produce it by then, I’ll go to your employer, while he and my client can decide a proper punishment for your negligence.”

  The businessman’s facade slipped for a second, and he gulped while he ran his hands down the sides of his slacks. His breathing was a little faster, but he managed to catch his smile and force it back onto his face like he wasn’t playing a game of chicken with me.

  “The car has already been sold,” he explained. “And as I said before, it’s already out of my reach. Mr. Febbo really should just let it go. He wouldn’t want another repeat of Pietro’s.”

  The mention of the shootout at the Italian restaurant made my blood boil. I stepped forward, but this time Hank caught my arm before I could do anything that I would regret. The bloodbath at Pietro’s had been a nightmare, and I’d been right in the middle of it.

  “I survived that without a scratch,” I took a deep breath and shrugged. “I doubt that you would have. Like I said, you have until Monday.”

  I walked out before Dian could say anything else, but I saw the color drain out of his face when I shut the door behind me. He’d probably be on the phone to his boss or that corrupt cop before we’d even left the parking lot, but that was fine. I could have Gabriele do a trace on his phone and find out who the number belonged to. And with a little bit of luck, I’d find out who the real kingpin was.

  “That guy is in way over his head,” Hank said as he opened his car door. “Offering to sell Anthony a car. That inspection must’ve gone really well for him to have the balls to say that with a straight face.”

  “He probably thought that having his cop friend stop by my house last night would soften me up,” I replied with a shrug. “He clearly doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.”

  “He doesn’t,” my bodyguard chuckled. “Will you be alright for now?”

  “Yeah,” I said and opened my own car door. “I’m going to call Anthony and head back to the house. The security cameras should be active now.”

  “Alright,” the beefy Italian man said. “Call me if you need anything.”

  I nodded and then climbed into my Mercedes AMG. The engine purred while I set my phone on its dashboard holder and dialed Anthony’s number. I was still pissed that Dian had tried to counter my offer, but he’d seemed pretty shaken when I left, and more importantly, I’d learned that he wasn’t the highest man on the totem pole.

  “Hey,” Anthony said on the first ring. “What’s up?”

  “I just left Dian,” I said and waved to the security guard on my way out.

  “And?” the mafioso asked.

  “I think that I’m going to have to get a little creative,” I said.

  Chapter 12

  “Creative?” my client asked, and I heard the telltale sign of his pen tapping on the dining room table. “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” I started and then paused to mutter under my breath when someone cut me off. “It seems like the Enzo has already been sold, and Dian can’t get it back.”

  “He can’t get it back?” Anthony asked in a surprisingly calm tone.

  “No,” I needed to proceed with caution if I didn’t want him to blow up on me. “At least, that’s what he’s said. But I already have a plan.”

  “Come to the apartment, and we’ll talk about it there,” the mafioso said and then hung up.

  I sighed and put on my blinker before I made my way over to the turn lane. Traffic was already bumper to bumper, but I managed to squeeze between a mini-van and a sports car, and soon I was on my way to Anthony’s. I didn’t want to be in the same room with the younge
r Febbo after the news that I’d just given him, but I also couldn’t tell him no.

  There were no spots in front of the renovated warehouse, but I found one down the block, and the walk back wasn’t too bad in the late afternoon sunlight. I waved to the gothic artist whose name I couldn’t remember, and then took the rickety lift to the top floor.

  My hands had started to get sweaty as my mind ran through worst-case scenarios, so I wiped them on my pants and pulled my shoulders back. I knew that he was going to be in a mood, but I’d proven myself to be a valuable asset, and he wouldn’t kill me just because my first plan didn’t go exactly the way I had expected.

  At least I hoped he wouldn’t.

  “Hey, Big Tony,” I said with a weak smile when the bodyguard opened the door.

  “Hey, Hunter,” the large man said and stepped to the side to let me in. “Be careful. He’s been pissed since you called. He’s on the phone with his father right now.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” I nodded and took a deep breath before I walked into the open concept apartment.

  There were a few papers on the ground next to the dining room table like they’d been tossed to the ground with one swipe. Big Tony took his seat next to the door, shook his head at the mess, and then looked over to the windows where Anthony was pacing back and forth.

  “Hunter,” Anthony glowered.

  He had his cell phone pressed to his ear, and I noticed his knuckles were white from gripping it so hard. The poor device looked like it might crack under the pressure. My client hung up with whoever he was talking to and shoved his cell in his pocket before he stalked over to me.

  “Anthony,” I said with a respectful smile. “Are you ready to talk about my plan?”

  “Your plan failed,” the mafioso growled, and for a moment I could almost see his father standing in front of me. “You said Dian would get you the car by Monday. And now you’re saying that he can’t do that, and my car is gone. I think that I need to do what my father wanted in the first place and let Jovanni handle this.”

  His voice had grown louder with each word, and his hands were flying around so close that I thought he was going to punch me. He took a deep breath when he was done and then shoved his hands into his pockets as he stared at me expectantly. The ghost of his father still bubbled under the surface, and the months of running the family creeped back out as he glowered at me like he wanted to peel the skin off of me.

  I walked over to get a glass of water while I tried to calm my suddenly racing heart. He had a right to be upset his car had been stolen, but I hadn’t failed, and I had a plan. I drank the cool liquid while my client stomped over to stare at me with the same look that his father gave me when I’d suggested we work with the FBI to bring the Gryphon company down.

  “Well?” he snapped when I didn’t say anything. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “I told you that I have a plan,” I said and took a deep breath to remind myself that he wasn’t going to send me to the meat fridge with Jovanni. “I know that he can get the car back. I’ve done my research, and I know how they load and unload the cargo ships in the middle of the ocean. It’s not impossible, just difficult. And I just need to make sure that he realizes that it’s better to have his client angry than it is to have the Febbo family as an enemy.”

  “Which is why we should call Jovanni in,” Anthony said. “Listen, Hunter, I’m the first one to say that you’ve done great work in the past. But I think this is something that needs to be handled a little differently than your usual play.”

  “You mean the legal way?” I asked with a lifted eyebrow.

  The angry mafioso cracked as he chuckled to himself and shook his head. I grabbed a glass of water for him and held it while he ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He downed the drink in one go and then slammed it down on the counter like he’d just taken a shot of whiskey.

  “It’s a two million dollar car, Hunter,” my client explained. “We can’t let something like that slide. The other families will think that we’re weak. And then we’ll have an even bigger problem on our hands than a stolen car.”

  “And we won’t,” I reassured him. “I have the information on the corrupt cop that’s on his payroll, and Alessia is looking into a car theft ring. All I have to do is use that as leverage, and he’ll realize that he’s backed into a corner.”

  “The Febbo name should be convincing enough,” Anthony said, and his right eye twitched like he was about to throw something.

  The family had suffered since the shootout at Pietro’s, and he was poised to take over when his father retired, but my client needed to show the other families that he could run the business. He’d managed not to be a made man yet, but the longer his father remained in charge, the more Anthony leaned toward handling things the old way rather than the legal way.

  I took a deep breath and tried to think of how to convince my client to let me handle it. He’d let me take care of the Gryphon Company and that had gone better than we could’ve hoped, especially with the mayor and all of his lackeys now in prison. I just needed to pull him away from the idea that he needed to use Jovanni.

  “He was under the impression that he could convince you to let it go,” I said while I refilled my water. “I told him that it would not be wise to go against the Febbo family, and now all I have to do is drive it home with a legitimate legal threat.”

  “I still think that we should give this to Jovanni,” the mafioso said and ran his hands through his hair. “There are just some things that need to be done the old way. I know you like to do things your way, but we can’t afford to look weak right now.”

  “I said that we wouldn’t let this slight go, and we won’t,” I said. “He’s back on edge again now that he knows his cop didn’t scare me off. He’ll be ready to deal, and I’ll use Officer White and the theft ring to put the last straw on his back. He’ll break, and the Enzo will be back by Monday. And then I’ll give everything to Alessia, and she can take down the whole ring. He’ll lose everything.”

  “I’m not sure that will be enough,” Anthony said. “My father is in a rage about it taking until Monday. He’s not going to let this go. And he’s right, someone needs to be punished in a way that will show the other families that we’re still strong.”

  The mafioso started to pace again as he processed. His feet slapped against the floor, and he jumped up and down a few times like he was about to start shadowboxing. He threw a few punches at no one, took a deep breath, and then nodded his head as he reached his decision.

  “I understand what you’re saying,” I said and slipped onto the counter while I grabbed a banana from the hook under the cabinet.

  My heart was still racing as I watched and waited to see where his temper would land, but I refused to show him that I was nervous. He was still vibrating with angry energy, and these were the times when he was hardest to read.

  “Let me try the legal route first,” I insisted. “He’ll end up in jail, and then what happens to him after that is purely an issue for the prison system. Everyone will know why he ended up there, and it will solidify the new rumors about the Febbo family, and that anyone who messes with our people loses everything, not just their lives.”

  “Like the mayor,” my client came over to lean on the kitchen island and ran his hands down his face irritably. “I see what you’re saying, Hunter. But the old families are slow to change their way of thinking. And they already have some issues with our work with the FBI. It’s a fine line between using the government as pawns and being snitches.”

  “Just give me until Monday,” I said. “If I don’t have the car back by then, you can call in Jovanni. You have the meeting with the other families, and I know that you can show them the brilliance of using the FBI and the DA’s office to get rid of competition without needing to give them any information about our allies. It gives them someone to focus on, and none of our guys are harmed.”

  “Fine,” Anthony said. “You
have until Monday.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. There was a plan in place, and I knew that Dian was terrified when I’d left him. Hank’s rage at Dian trying to sell a car to the Febbos had helped, and all I had to do was convince him that there were worse things than death.

  “Alright,” I said. “I appreciate your trust.”

  “You’ve earned it,” the mafioso said with a grin. “Are you coming over for dinner tonight?”

  “Actually,” I said. “I have some lamb in the fridge from Lorenzo, and I have the feeling that if I don’t eat it that he’ll appear by my bed and kill me in the middle of the night.”

  “He might,” Big Tony chuckled from his seat by the front door. “Lorenzo doesn’t joke around about meat.”

  “You remember the time I let the steak go bad?” Anthony laughed and the tension drained from the apartment. “I thought he was going to put me through the meat grinder.”

  The two men started to reminisce about the butcher and Jovanni while I brewed an espresso. I wasn’t sure how Big Tony or the rest of the family felt about the direction that Anthony and I were taking the business, or how many of them knew about the plan to go legit. Big Tony never gave his input, and Jovanni had seemed to come around when we cleanly took down the Serbian mob without losing any of our guys, so it seemed like it was a positive movement. I just needed to keep my client from looking like a snitch while he was doing things the legal way.

  I needed to get home and start researching who was the real ringleader. Whoever it was had managed to keep themselves hidden and let Dian make enough of the decisions that it seemed like he was actually the one in charge. I was fairly certain that the buyers dealt directly with the middleman, but if I had the name of the boss, then I could add them to my list of people to legally intimidate, because no matter who his boss was, they wouldn’t want their operations exposed to law enforcement.

  “I think I’m going to head home,” I said and then finished my espresso like it was a shot of hard liquor, complete with the shake of my head when the bitter liquid hit my taste buds.