Chapter 9

One day a man in a nice suit came in and asked if I had a few minutes to spare. I thought he might be a salesman, but I had time, so we went into my office. He surprised me by pulling out a portfolio of my holdings, my stores, the bakeries, the pastry shop, showing how much they were worth. “You have a lot of money tied up in this section of the city, Mr. Moore. It would be a shame if something were to happen, say fires, vandalism, that sort of thing. I’m offering you an insurance policy here, a contract that would stop any of that from happening, and the cost is only fifteen per cent of everything, a bargain really. My employers require an answer in the next seven days. Think carefully before you decide.”

“Is this an attempt at extortion?”

The man looked mildly amused. “Not at all. We are merely a protective service, to make sure no bad luck should befall you.

“At fifteen percent of my worth?”

“Well, the cost is a little higher than normal, but we guarantee our work.”

“I see. I have partners, you know. I’ll need to confer with them.”

“Ah yes, a lovely bunch of ladies. All well advanced in years. Part of our services is health insurance. It would be a shame if something were to happen to one of them. Bones have a hard time healing as that age.”

He looked surprised at my expression. “You shouldn’t have done that. I can tell you my answer right now, Not no, but HELL NO! Take your slimy ass and crawl it back under the rock you usually hide under. Does the light of day hurt your eyes?”

He merely shrugged. “I urge you to think about it. Seven days.”

I called Jose and Dan. I always taped my office conversations, for a variety of reasons, glad now I did. They ran his photo, and he came back as a low-level point-man for a branch of the local organized crime family.

“This is serious shit, amigo. He must have known he was being taped, because he never once made an outright threat. We need to get the task force on this, we’ve been hearing rumblings lately they were wanting to expand their turf. Might want to tell Miguel and Michael a shit storm is coming, the first thing they do is freeze the locals out.”

I called them both after they left, through their grandmothers, saying that I had something serious going on that affected them, and we all needed to talk, the sooner the better. We met at the pastry shop the next night, after closing hours.

After our coffees and snacks, I told them what was going on.

“Look boys, I know what you do, how you make your money. I don’t particularly like it, but if it wasn’t you, it will be someone else. You’ve always been square with me, so I’m going to tell you what I know.

Something you might want to think about, in the future, is how many old gang leaders do you see? Your careers have a shelf life, and you might want to start thinking about exit strategies. Your life, though. I just don’t want to sit with your grandmothers as you get sentenced to twenty years to life.”

“That sermon over, what are you going to do? The cops know, and they sent word you guys need to get your ducks in a row and keep a low profile, if you can. I’m not bowing to those assholes. One thing you need to know. If I have to pay protection, I want to deal with family. I need a few guys from each of you to keep an eye on our businesses, and your families. And family comes first. If you see them getting ready to burn my stores down and get a message that your grandmothers are in danger, you let it burn and go to them, got it?”

I walked out, leaving their mouths hanging open.