Chapter 3

Joe had been waiting for things to settle down, for the men, who were all top bosses in their cosche, to finish their posturing and one-upmanship. He'd also been waiting for his mobile phone - nothing more than a cheap, throwaway prepaid job - to ring. There was only one reason it would ring. It had been purchased just that morning for this purpose, and only one other person knew the number.

It rang. He was ready.

He stood and looked around the smoke-filled room. His own men stood guard at the corners, but Frank and Marco were conspicuous by the absence. The other bosses had only agreed to this, because he'd allowed them to have their own men in the outer offices.

The cigar smoke bothered him. He'd quit smoking many years before, and even then had only rarely smoked cigars. The other men in the room seemed to feel that no one would notice their importance without a stogie in their teeth. It was a holdover from the ancient history of the cosche.

The men weren't happy with him. They'd had to come to the room clean, i.e., no weapons. He had detectors on the entrances which were so sensitive, they could even detect the minimal metal present in the latest Glock productions. Every single one of them had tried to smuggle in a sidearm, and had been told, at gunpoint, to ditch it or leave. They'd all elected to stay, fearing that they'd be left out of something important if they hadn't. Of course, they would have been.

Joe cleared his throat, loudly, to get their attention. For the most part, it worked, but the two men at the far end of the table seemed to be ignoring him. They chatted on as if they were at a card game. Joe cleared his throat again, and waited for them to respond. He waited all of about ten seconds, then he pulled his sidearm - an old police revolver, in .38 special - and fired a shot in their direction.

It was a nice shot. He'd been practicing it for weeks, knowing that he'd need to do something dramatic in order to take control of the meeting. The report, of course, startled everyone in the room except the four guards. None were more startled, however, than the objects of his ire, the two at the far end of the table. The bullet actually clipped the end off of one man's stogie, and the burning plug of tobacco fell into his lap. He jumped up and hopped around the room cursing and brushing at the trousers of his expensive suit.

Still holding the smoking gun, Joe said quietly, "Shut up, sit down, and pay attention."

Not understanding why his men, and those of the other bosses, hadn't already rushed into the room, the offending fellow complied immediately. Joe unhurriedly returned the gun to its shoulder holster. Turning his attention back to the rest of the table he spoke those words made famous many decades earlier.

"I'm making you an offer you can't refuse," he said. That got their attention. Nobody ever said that, unless he could back it up.

"Before I do, though, I need to tell you a story," he added. He went on to tell them, in general terms, that his cosca had achieved space flight and established colonies. Not all the details, of course, just enough so that they could follow the reasoning for what he intended to propose.

"You might have noticed that a number of our brethren are not here," he added. His audience looked around and nodded, assuming the worst.

"No, they are not dead," he said, "at least not those who were smart. Some of the really stupid ones tried to take on the Confederacy, and they lost." That prompted another round of nods.

"The others are alive and well, just not here on Earth." He paused to let that sink in. There was a general hubbub for awhile afterward, and he had to wait for that to subside before going on.

"So now I guess you want to know how that came to be. Well, I brought one of them back, just so he could tell you," he said, then he walked over and tapped lightly on the door. A moment later, another man, dressed much like the others, and well-known to them, came through the door.

"I give you our brother, Paul Napoli."

Walking over to stand by Joe, Napoli addressed the others. "Hi guys, long time no see! Since some of you probably took over much of my old turf, I suspect you thought I was dead." Murmurs of agreement ran through the crowd.

"As Mr. Twain once said, however, those rumors were greatly exaggerated - but let me explain what did happen.

"You've all heard of the Sa'arm, and what they're going to do to Earth. None of you has the chance of an ice cube in Hell of getting the Confederacy to take you off-planet. Well, Joe offered me, and several others of our brothers, an alternative to being turned into Sa'arm chow.

"You see, for a rather sizable fee, he offered to take me, my immediate family, and a few of my friends, along with our goods, to a place that wasn't likely to attract attention of the Sa'arm. Weighing the costs against the benefit of not being dead, and not having my children and/or grandchildren eaten by the lizards, made it a no-brainer.

"The world we live on is nice enough, but has only traces of heavy metals. What's there will support life, but not much more, so there'll be no industrial development, ever. It's a lot like living in Southeast Asia, maybe five hundred or a thousand years ago.

"There is another downside to the offer, though. We don't ever get to go into space again, unless Joe needs us for something, like now. He brought me here to tell you what you can get out of dealing with him."

"So what do you get for pitching him to us?" one of the other men demanded.

He grinned. "Pretty much the same as what he said to you, an offer I couldn't refuse. That's not to say it was a bad offer."

"So what was it?" another man asked.

"I don't want to go into too much detail. That would spoil the surprise," he responded with obvious amusement. "I'll tell you this, though. When I was getting ready to go with Joe, my youngest daughter who was fourteen at the time, decided she couldn't bear to live the way we were going to have to live. She ran away.

"We couldn't find her, and Joe had only a narrow window of opportunity to get my family off-planet. We had to leave her behind. It broke my heart, and my wife's as well, to know that she would likely die when the Sa'arm arrive, but we have other children to consider, some of whom had children of their own. We have friends who depend upon us as well.

"Joe knew about my problem, obviously. For reasons that you will shortly learn, he decided it would be worth his while to locate my errant child and offer her another chance at life. In return for this ... service ... I agreed to come and tell you my tale."

"So when do we hear this offer?" came from the back of the room.

"Whenever Joe makes it, I suppose," he responded. "In advance, my advice is to accept! Now if there are no other questions, I need to go speak to my kid." With that, he shook hands with Joe, and left the room.

After he left, Joe looked around the room again, and said, "There is one more person you need to hear from before I make my offer. Please welcome our newly appointed Patriarch, formerly Father Nicholas O'Donnell."

Nicholas had been waiting just outside the door, and on hearing his name he entered the room in full regalia. Being nominally Catholic, all of the men stood up. Joe bowed at the waist and kissed the ring.

Nicholas smiled and said, "Gentlemen, please be seated." They all did, except Joe, who moved away from the table.

"I know some of you," Nicholas began, "and you know me, from my days as a parish priest. They were fairly recent, after all." The men around the room nodded their agreement.

"You may wonder at the elevation of a poor parish priest to the rank of Patriarch. I tell you this. It was not done to honor me, but for the greater glory of God. It is my geis, laid upon me directly by His Holiness, that I am responsible for the souls of the faithful, everywhere but on Earth itself." He paused to reflect a moment. "In the very near future, there will likely be a public announcement of this appointment, by the Vatican.

"I am here today at the request of and as the guest of your brother, Joe Fanelli. He has asked me to tell you of the changes that the Holy Father has mandated in some of the traditional institutions, for the sanctioned practice of Christianity off-Earth. When I am done here, I will be traveling to Rome, to make a progress report to His Holiness."

Nicholas then went on to give an abbreviated version of the address that he'd previously given to the people on Catania. He departed shortly thereafter, leaving behind a room full of men who were perhaps shocked, perhaps better educated, but most definitely, thoroughly confused. Most of them were thinking What has this to do with me?

It fell to Joe to answer that question for them, by explaining his need, and making his offer.

"You've heard from two people you should trust, about what I can do for you, and how the Church and my cosca will be different from the world you know. Paul told you how I moved him and his family to a new world..."

"So you gonna offer us the same deal? How much you want?" one of the audience interrupted.

Joe shook his head, "You're getting ahead of me. It's not exactly the same deal, because we don't need money anymore.'

"Whatta ya mean? Everybody needs money!" the same man interrupted. Joe grabbed him by the hair, then pulled out his gun and shoved it in the guy's mouth.

"DO YOU WANT TO SHUT UP AND LISTEN BEFORE OR AFTER I BLOW YOUR FUCKIN' HEAD OFF?" he shouted. The guy raised both hands in surrender. Joe returned his gun to its holster.

He looked meaningfully around the room, and said, "There will be no more warnings. If any of you can't stay quiet and listen until I'm finished, your body will never be found. Capisci?"

By now the men were getting uneasy. They were supposed to have armed men standing just outside the door, but Joe wasn't acting at all like that worried him. They held their peace, though. It wouldn't be of much value to have armed men pouring into the room, if the guy they were supposed to protect was already dead.

"Now, to get back to business. You heard Paul, and you heard Father Nicholas. You know how things are going to be on our colony worlds, and on the ones Paul described.

"In order to meet the Pope's mandate my guys are going to have to support families with more than one wife. The bottom line: we don't have enough women to do the job." One of the other men looked like he was starting to say something, and Joe put his hand on his gun. The man closed his mouth so quickly that his teeth clicked.

"There are a lot of places we could find extra women. Trouble is, we're picky about who we marry. We want good Catholic, Italian brides for our men. Girls who were raised in the traditions of the cosche, and who, in turn, will raise their own children that way. Even on Earth the supply of such girls is short.

"Here is the offer: we give you, your wives, your male children, and your female children under fourteen a free ride to one of the planets like where Paul lives. You give us your unmarried daughters, sisters, and female cousins who are fourteen or over and willing to go with us. We're not looking to break up marriages

"The women you turn over to us will be treated with respect, and will be full partners with men of their own choosing, within the limits Father Nicholas described. Nobody will be forced to marry against her will, but if she's not having babies for one of my guys, she'll probably have to work at a job of some kind. We don't have resources to support a leisure class.

"If you want, we can even take any of your children who are under fourteen and want to go with us. You would have to explain to them that they are being adopted. We're not going to take the older boys, because their loyalties are already fixed. We don't have the time or energy to waste on trying to convert them. That's the offer. You can talk now"

Jumping in ahead of everyone else, one of the older men asked, "So what if we say no? You gonna kill us all?"

"Nope!" Joe responded. "I won't have to. You and yours stay here, and eventually become lizard food." On hearing that, there was a sudden increase in the volume of sound, as the men began talking among themselves, and trying to get Joe's attention.

Finally, Joe shouted "QUIET!" and pointed to one of the men. "Jim, you got a question?"

"Uh ... Yeah," Jim wasn't the brightest bulb on the string. "Um ... what's to stop us from calling our guys in here, having them blow your ass away, and taking over your action?"

"That's what I've always liked about you Jim!" Joe snickered. "You never beat around the bush. How about you just go over to the door and do that? I won't even shoot you."

Jim got up and headed for the door. He kept his eye on Joe the whole way, though. Not a very trusting soul.

He opened the door and looked around the outer office. He turned back around and addressed the entire group. "Guy's ... you gotta see this!"

The other men looked at Joe fearfully. He nodded, and they took that as permission. They left their chairs and went to see what was bothering Jim.

What they saw, as they all filed into the outer office, was Frank and Marco standing at the main door, with vintage Thompson submachine guns, their faces silently giving them the classic Dirty Harry message - Go ahead! Make my day!

Looking around the room, they saw what had happened to their men. All forty-four of them were still there, still breathing, and apparently unharmed. The problem was, they were all bound, gagged, and stacked almost like cordwood!

After a few minutes, Joe called out to the other bosses, "We don't have much time guys. Come back in and sit down." With no other acceptable alternative, they did as he asked.