Chapter 2: Dalliances?

August 1, 1995, Chicago, Illinois

“Steve, there’s a man in reception who says he urgently needs to see you. He won’t give his name, but says it’s an important financial matter and I’m quoting, ‘it would be in his best interest to talk to me.’ Do you want me to call the police?”

“No, I’ll come down,” I said.

I didn’t put on my blazer or a sweater as I usually did to hide my pistol, but I changed shoes and then went downstairs to where Eve Falvey was sitting.

“I need you to come with me,” I said. “And take off your blazer so it’s obvious you’re carrying.”

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know for sure, but there’s someone in reception and he made Lucas nervous.”

She nodded and took off her blazer, displaying her compact Sig pistol in a waistband holster. We walked out to reception, both clearly displaying our firearms.

“I’m Steve Adams,” I said to the 5’11” dark-haired, obviously Italian, man who was standing in the lobby.

“I know who you are,” he said menacingly. “We need to speak privately about a business matter.”

If this man was who I thought he was, and I was sure my thoughts were correct, he’d be carrying a pistol and I wanted to make a point.

“If you’re armed,” I said, “leave your gun with Lucas at reception, and I’ll be happy to speak to you in the conference room there.”

I pointed to the ‘Tretiak’ room.

“Now why would I do that when you’re both openly displaying guns?”

“My place of business, my rules,” I said firmly. “Consider it similar to an old-fashioned saloon where you have to check your guns at the door, you know, like in the old Westerns. The bartender kept a shotgun behind the bar for safety. That’s what this is.”

I patted the gun under my arm, and stared him down. I knew if he tried anything either Eve or I, or both, would put him down before he could draw from a gun tucked into the back of his pants or in the pocket of his sports coat. And in close quarters in the conference room, my karate skills would rule the day.

“I’m not going to give up my piece.”

I shrugged, “Your choice. Tell whoever sent you I won’t be intimidated.”

“Bad decision,” he said.

I ignored him and turned to go back into the office, while Eve stayed facing him with her hand on her hip, just inches from her Sig.

“Lucas,” I said firmly, “if he doesn’t leave, call the police. I’m sure he doesn’t have a permit for whatever he’s carrying.”

“Will do,” Lucas said, but he sounded nervous.

I went through the door and stopped, then leaned against the wall and blew out a long breath. I had a VERY good idea who I’d just come face to face with, and that did NOT bode well. About thirty seconds later, Eve came through the door.

“He left. Care to explain what THAT was about?”

“I’m guessing a shakedown or intimidation from a reeling Outfit. You know what happened with Hart-Lincoln, right?”

“Sure.”

“Guess who their clients were?”

“Those mobsters the FBI busted last week?”

I nodded, “One and the same. The evidence which the FBI found at Hart-Lincoln was the proverbial nail in the coffin for the racketeering charges. I suspect our involvement, even as consultants to the FBI, bothered some people.”

“Damn. You need to talk to someone about this.”

I nodded, “I’ll call Patrick Shaughnessy at Global Security. He’s advised me on security for about twelve years now, ever since the FBI tried to get me to roll over on my Russian girlfriend!”

Eve laughed, “Your life grows more interesting by the day! Let me buy you a beer! I want to hear more!”

“Bourbon is a better choice, and it’s WAY cheaper to just buy the bottle! You’re welcome to come by the house if you like.”

“Sure. I’ll bring a bottle. I can probably drink you under the table!”

“I’ve spent a good amount of time drinking with Russian soldiers, so that might be a real challenge for you!”

She laughed, “We should go shooting soon. We might need the practice.”

“Yes, but not after we’ve been drinking!”

“No way! My dad would kill me if I was that irresponsible! He’d be WAY less upset if he caught us screwing on the kitchen table than if I handled a firearm while I was drunk!”

I laughed, “Good to know!”

“You should go talk to Lucas. He looked like he was about to piss his pants.”

“I’ll do that now. Come by the house after 8:00pm if you want that drink.”

“I have to get up for work tomorrow!” she protested. “And my boss is a slave driver!”

“Oh, please!” I laughed. “There are no whips and chains here!”

“Too bad!” she smirked with a twinkle in her eye.

“Go back to work, young lady!” I chuckled.

“See? Slave driver!”

She turned and went to her desk and I went back to reception to talk to Lucas.

“Sorry about that,” I said.

“I was scared shitless!” he said. “What the heck was that about?”

“Either a shakedown or intimidation. You know we helped the FBI and our help led to all those outfit arrests last week.”

“Uh, just how dangerous is this?”

“For you and anyone else here? Probably not very. He asked for me by name and knew who I was. You saw my response.”

“Yeah. But you started carrying a gun before that stuff went down.”

“That’s not the first threat that’s been made,” I said. “That’s why all the security. Make sure you save today’s tape, please.”

“I will. What do I do if he comes back?”

“Call me. I’ll handle it. And you can go into the office if you want, instead of staying at the reception desk.”

“With you and Eve to protect me? I feel pretty safe.”

“Good.”

“Now, about the combat pay...” he grinned.

“When there’s combat, then you’ll get combat pay!” I said with an equally silly grin.

“I hope to NEVER see it.”

“You and me both,” I agreed.

I went back into the main office and up the stairs. I stopped in the ‘Orr’ room and dialed Joyce’s number. Nancy put me right through to her.

“Tell Connie to call off the dogs,” I said.

“What?”

“I just had a visit from Peter Scuderi. He didn’t give his name, but I’m sure it was him. He looks just enough like Don Carlo for me to be positive it was him.”

“What happened?”

“He showed up here saying he needed to talk to me about a financial matter. I didn’t put on my blazer so it was obvious I was carrying, and had Eve, one of my staff with a carry permit, go with me, with her gun exposed as well.”

“Jesus, Steve! You can NOT mess with him!”

“No, Joyce, you’re wrong. He can’t mess with ME! Tell Connie to back off or she’ll regret it.”

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with!” she protested.

“Oh, yes I do. I got a complete report on him from my security company. I’m also convinced he’s the one who ‘pushed the button’ on Brandon Littleton.”

“How the heck do you know THAT?” she asked.

“I don’t KNOW it, but I’m sure of it. It has all the hallmarks of a professional hit, minus using the same gun on multiple hits, though that can be a signature. And I know Scuderi and Littleton were all part of Anthony and Connie messing with me.”

“Do not tangle with him, Steve!”

“What’s your advice, then? Give in to Connie’s demands? Tell you what, YOU give them the $2 million and I’ll happily let it go.”

“No fucking chance,” Joyce spat.

“Yeah, well, there you go. Neither of us expected Anthony to throw in with Detroit and the drug trade. And everyone who could protect me here is in jail, minus two very high-up guys. But from what I hear, Scuderi is a ‘for hire’ guy, and doesn’t take orders from anyone.”

“A professional hit man. One of the very few who actually exist. Despite what the media portrays, there aren’t very many professionals in that business.”

“I don’t get using the same gun,” I said.

“Consider it a trademark, and his clear statement that the police and FBI can’t touch him because he’s smarter than they are. It’s like ‘The Dove’ in For Your Eyes Only. Rather than leaving a pin with a dove, Scuderi uses the same gun and signs his name, so to speak.”

“Eventually, the feds catch guys like that.”

“They all think they’re smarter than the government,” Joyce said. “In most cases, they’re wrong. In this case, Scuderi might be right.”

“Yeah, but is he smarter than ME? Does he have bigger balls than ME? And is he willing to take it all the way and risk ME taking HIM all the way out?”

“He’s a psychopath! He doesn’t think in those terms.”

“Well, even psychopaths are vulnerable to 9mm hollow-point bullets. Just tell your sister to back off. Or else.”

“She’s stubborn and vindictive,” Joyce said.

“Yeah? And who plays this game better than ANYONE? Remind her of that. I’ve beat them at every turn.”

“Until Scuderi puts a bullet in your head as you’re walking down the street.”

“I have a $2 million life insurance policy,” I chuckled. “It’s the old adage. If you owe the bank $100,000, they own you. If you owe them $100,000,000, you own them!”

“You’re playing a dangerous game!”

“I don’t have a choice, do I? They’re going to keep coming at me. If I show weakness or I waver, they’ll put on even more pressure. Pushing back is the only option. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You aren’t,” she sighed. “But be careful, Steve. Scuderi is very dangerous!”

“So am I,” I said flatly.

“And that scares me.”

We said ‘goodbye’ and I hung up. Despite how firm I was with Joyce, I was concerned about the situation, but there really wasn’t an alternative. Unless and until Connie and Anthony gave up, the pressure would be there, and I’d have to push back equally hard, if not harder. There was a risk, but I felt the risk would be worse if I did nothing.

The only question in my mind was whether or not I should say anything to Elyse. It was a question of which would be worse - me telling her or her finding out. And in my mind, there was no question that her finding out would lead to a serious confrontation, and a severe dressing down. I got up from my desk and left my office. I walked down the hall to Elyse’s office and shut the door.

“I had a visit from Scuderi today,” I said.

“Oh shit!” Elyse gasped. “What happened?”

“I had Eve walk to reception with me and make a show of force, if you will. He left, and I called Joyce and told her to tell Connie to back off. If you think about it, I hold all the cards.”

“Until they have you whacked!”

“Which gets them nothing,” I said. “They’re looking for my Achilles’ heel, and I don’t have one. They think I’ll crack under the pressure. I won’t. And if they try something, anything, you know exactly how I’ll respond. They won’t know what hit them.”

“Steve, this whole thing is spiraling out of control!”

“Look, they locked up most of the South side mid-level and street leadership of the Outfit. Pretty much nobody is left to give orders at the street level. And the two top guys in Chicago are men I know and who have trusted me as far as they can trust any non-Italian. We’re talking Tony and Connie, not Al Capone or John Gotti! Heck, a word to Grandma Grossi would make life VERY difficult for ‘Little Tony’ and his bitch of a wife!”

“YOU slept with her!”

I smirked, “All three cherries, too. That’s a tidbit I’m sure Connie isn’t interested in her husband finding out, as we’ve discussed. Let them play their games.”

“You seem awfully calm for a man who was just threatened by a professional hit man!”

I shrugged, “The word is ‘professional’. That means unless someone pays him to push a button, he’s not going to. I haven’t done anything to the man personally; it’s just business. And if he’s acting on Connie’s behalf, that means they’re paying him. And having him try to take me out won’t get them their $2 million back!”

“But still, Steve! What about the kids? And the business?”

“You know full well they wouldn’t do anything like that because everyone knows exactly how I’d respond.”

“The Untouchables. Are you sure Tony and Connie know that?”

“Positive. You know what happened when they messed with me eight years ago. I’ll remind them, if necessary.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Steve. And all of us are at risk.”

I shook my head, “I don’t think so.”

“Which is why you’re upping the security at the house?”

“You know full well what caused that! Albert decided to go across the alley to play at Timmy’s house. We agreed to add cameras to the back yard and front of the coach house.”

“And the OTHER changes?”

“Based on Patrick Shaughnessy’s recommendations. We should have added a full alarm system at the coach house when we put the one it for the main house. It had NOTHING to do with any Outfit stuff!”

“Did your friend Theo get arrested?”

“Surprisingly, no. I’m guessing they decided to only deal with the big fish. Either that, or they’re going to take him down when they finally take down the unions.”

Or other Chicago aldermen, perhaps, I didn’t add.

“When do you think that will happen?”

I shrugged, “Who knows? I’m not privy to the FBI investigations. They put a pretty big smack down on the Outfit here for the first time in decades.”

“I have faith in you, Steve, but I’m worried.”

“I know. Just trust me, please.”

“If anything changes, I expect you to tell me immediately!”

“I will.”

August 3, 1995, Chicago, Illinois

“How was your trip?” Melissa asked when we met at Takumi for lunch on Thursday.

“Pretty good. I got to see some dear friends who I don’t see often enough because of the distance.”

“Did everyone else enjoy it?”

“I think so. We did a bit of sightseeing, and the kids got to see some friends they don’t see very often. I also got to show Birgit where the young woman she’s named for is buried.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone whose life is stranger than yours!”

We were shown to a low table in the Japanese section of the restaurant, and placed our order.

“That’s been said many times before,” I grinned. “How have things been while I was away?”

“Busy. Sales are good and we’re close to completely replacing all of the older testing equipment in our product line. Jennifer has been a godsend!”

“And Callie?”

“A competent programmer. She’s reliable and efficient. I can’t ask for much more.”

“And no trouble from the outside?”

“Dante or his family? No. That all seems to be done. There is the issue of LP Engineering still hanging out there.”

“Sure, but nothing overt, right?”

She shook her head, “No. Just the usual competition. They announced a new piece of testing equipment that I swear had to have been designed by Dante.”

“Is that going to cause you any trouble?”

“That’s the weird thing,” Melissa said. “If Dante put his name behind it, we’d have real trouble competing against it. BUT, if it’s just another piece of equipment from the former Atlanta Test Engineering, it’s not a big threat.”

“Which tells me he’s going to do SOMETHING which opens him up to a charge he’s violating his non-compete. His ego just can’t take it! All he has to do is be patient the way he is with Peach. But the length of the non-compete is really gnawing at him, I’m sure.”

“What’s your advice?”

“Just wait and see what happens. You aren’t hurting for revenue or profits, so let him make a mistake, and then decide what to do. I made a mistake in overreacting and going off half-cocked with the whole Lone Star situation.”

“I hope you don’t have that problem in bed!” Melissa smirked.

“And see, YOU were the one who said I shouldn’t go ‘too far’ with the ‘coarse jesting’!”

“And I told you it was OK, so long as you weren’t rude about it.”

“No,” I smirked, “I have NEVER gone off ‘half-cocked’! Well, OK, maybe when I was fourteen and it was my VERY first time!”

The kimono-clad waitress brought our lunch and we began eating.

“You’re very sure of yourself,” Melissa said a few minutes later.

I shrugged, “In pretty much everything I believe I’m good at, yes, I am. But so are you!”

“True,” she said with a wry smile.

“But not the topic at hand?”

Melissa laughed nervously, “The guys have never complained, but I guess if they score, they don’t really complain. And I hardly think I’m an expert on the topic! I told you that you’ve had more lovers than the number of times I’ve had sex! And that excites me AND frightens me.”

“Frightens you?”

“What if I’m boring? What if you don’t like it? What if I’m not that good? I doubt I’d measure up.”

She sounded like a teenage virgin about to go to bed with an experienced boyfriend!

“First of all, I do my best NOT to compare, and to simply focus on the girl I’m with,” I said gently. “Second, as I told you, I’m mostly conventional myself. I can probably get as crazy as you can imagine, but mostly, I don’t. And thirdly, from where I’m sitting, I’m pretty sure I’d like it!”

“Oh please,” she laughed. “Give me a break!”

“Why? You have exactly the body type I prefer!”

“Now you’re just patronizing me!” she protested.

“No, I’m not. Ask Cindi Spanos if you don’t believe me!”

“The girl with the best boobs I’ve EVER seen!”