Rules of the Game Read online

  Rules Of The Game

  by

  Bruce Fitzpatrick

  A work of fiction dedicated to anyone who ever considered life in the fast lane…

  (First In A Trilogy)

  “Nice job, Adrian. You finally broke a law you couldn’t beat. You broke the law of averages.”

  Federal Agent Bobby Russo

  Copyright © 2012 by Bruce Fitzpatrick

  WGA Registered

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  SchlimmerPublishing.com

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  PART ONE - The Streets

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  PART TWO - The Penitentiary

  Chapter Thirteen - Day One

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three - The Second Year

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  - Prologue -

  August 4, 1:00 A.M.

  The silver Lincoln slipped out of traffic and glided to a halt in front of the canopied entrance to the Bottom Line. Jimmy, the valet parking attendant, quickly circled the car and opened the driver's door. "Hiya, Paulie," he said to the large, heavyset man who struggled out from behind the wheel. "Haven't seen you in a while. Where you been?"

  "You keepin' tabs on me or something?" snapped Paulie.

  "C'mon, Paulie. I was just trying to be sociable, that's all."

  "Never mind being social. Make yourself useful, give Vanessa a hand."

  "Yeah, sure." Jimmy walked to the other side of the car and opened the door for a heavily made-up, bleached blonde wearing a tight halter-top and skintight jeans.

  "Hi Jimmy," she said, wiggling out of the car. "Don't mind Paulie. He's been real busy the last couple of weeks, and he's kinda stressed. He'll be okay after he has a couple of drinks."

  "Speaking of drinks," said Paulie, "who's inside?"

  "Just a few of the regulars," answered Jimmy. "You know 'em all. They'll be closing up soon."

  "Maybe they will, maybe they won't," said Paulie, flashing a thick wad of bills. He peeled off a twenty and handed it to Jimmy. "Here, park it. I'll be inside."

  After parking the Lincoln, Jimmy went into the club. Seeing Paulie and Vanessa carousing at the bar, he quickly walked to the pay phone in the lobby and dialed a number.

  A rough, sleepy voice answered on the second ring. "Yeah?"

  "Freddie, this is Jimmy. Sorry to bother you, but Paulie just showed up, and I thought you'd like to know."

  "Who's he with?"

  "Just him and his old lady."

  "Can you keep him there a while?"

  "Sure. Looks like he's going to make a night of it."

  "Good, I hope he does."

  Jimmy looked at the receiver, smiled, then walked to the bar and dropped Paulie’s keys on top of it. "It’s out back."

  "Good," said Paulie. "Now you can have a drink with us. I'm buyin'."

  "I don't know," Jimmy hedged. "It's late, I should be home with my wife and kids."

  Paulie spun on his barstool and grabbed Jimmy's lapel. "When I buy, you drink. Besides, there may be more than a free drink in it for you if you're smart as I think you are. Come on, let’s take a little walk.”

  They entered the men’s restroom. Paulie locked the door behind them. “Come on, pal. Cheer up, I’m about to do you a favor.”

  “Oh yeah? Like what?”

  “You know a lot of the right people. How’d you like to make some money with ‘em?”

  “Depends how.”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit. You know what I’m talkin’ about. And don’t tell me how you don’t fool around with drugs because I know better. Now whatta you say?”

  “Yeah, maybe. How much you talking about?”

  “We’ll keep it simple, say a quarter pound. You can handle a quarter pound of coke, right?”

  “Yeah, yeah sure.”

  “Of course you are. And you’ll make more money over the weekend with this than you would parking cars for a month.”

  After a brief pause, Jimmy nodded. “Okay, when and where?”

  “Here and now, pal.” From his inside jacket pocket he withdrew a zip-lock bag containing a white powdery substance. He laid it on the sink and patted it with his fingertips.

  “Feel that, feel the rocks in that bad boy. Two-thirds chunks and eighty percent pure. Yours for two grand. A hell of a deal.”

  A lethargic, “Yeah, sure. A hell of a deal,” was the best Jimmy could say.

  Paulie caught it and wasn’t happy. “Hey, you got a problem with that, or what?”

  “No, I just never handled this much before. I’d hate to get busted with it, that’s all.”

  “Hey, people who do things with me never get busted.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I heard.”

  Paulie snarled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” Jimmy said, back peddling. “Word has it that you and your crew are real lucky guys.”

  “Hey, we make our own luck.” Handing over the quarter pound he concluded, “I want to get paid for that on Monday.”

  He abruptly took back the bag, reached inside and pulled out a couple of sizeable chunks, then wrapped them in a handkerchief. “There, now you only owe me nineteen hundred. See you in a couple of days.”

  They went back out to the bar. No one gave them a second glance. Caught up in their own endeavors, the crowd at the bar acted as if they’d never left.

  Paulie sat down and hailed the bartender. "Vince, set up my friends with whatever they want. We're gonna have a party."

  The bartender sagged. "C'mon, Paulie, I'm getting ready to close for the night. It's been a long day."

  "We must not be speaking the same language," said Paulie, pulling out his wad of bills. He took a couple of hundreds and laid them on the bar where everyone could see them.

  Pushing them toward the bartender, he asked, "How we doing, now, pal? We speaking the same language now?"

  Vince looked at the money. After a brief pause, he shrugged and took it. "Sure, Paulie, what'll it be?"

  Paulie smiled triumphantly. "Like I said, set up my friends." Then turning to Vanessa, he added, "That's what I like about money, baby. Money don't talk, it shouts. Money is power. Don't ever forget that."

  ***********

  A car with its lights out pulled into the darkened lot, circled once, and coasted to a stop next to Paulie's Lincoln. Its two occupants got out and approached it. Without speaking, one of them bent forward and circled it, as though making an inspection. When he was finished, he turned to his companion. "This’ll only take a minute."

  He climbed under the car, busied himself, and then got up again. "All set. He won't be going anyw
here."

  They got back in their car and drove to a distant corner of the lot to wait.

  ***********

  "Let’s go, Paulie," Vanessa whined. "It's three-thirty. I'm beat.”

  Paulie drew a brown paper bag from his jacket and handed it to Jimmy. “Here’s some more. You can pay me for this one next week. Any longer than that, I’ll come lookin’ for you.”

  Paulie drew a portion of cocaine from the bag, laid out a couple of lines out on the bar, and then snorted them up.

  Vanessa shook her head. “Come on, baby let’s go. Haven't you had enough of that stuff?"

  "Hey, I’ll decide when we leave. And never mind how much of this I take. Haven't seen you turn any down lately. Here, do these."

  Paulie drew a couple of fat lines from the small mound on the bar, then handed Vanessa a short straw. She put it to her nose, then bent over and snorted. An instant later she threw back her head and shook it.

  "Whew! What a bite! You always get the best for me.”

  Paulie laughed and slapped her rump. "Get yourself together, we're leavin'. Hold onto this until we get home. Then we'll have our own party, if you know what I mean."

  Vanessa giggled. "Sure, I'11 take real good care of it."

  Outside, they shifted from side to side as they walked to Paulie's car. Loaded on cocaine and alcohol, he fumbled with the keys. He tried the remote, but got no response. Frustrated, he jammed the key in the lock, crawled inside, and then reached across the seat and opened Vanessa's door. As she settled in beside him, he struggled with the ignition key, cursing.

  “Piece of shit!” Preoccupied, neither of them noticed the two men who approached from behind.

  Just as the key slid into the ignition, Paulie noticed a movement to his left. Turning to see what it was, he stiffened and opened his mouth. But the scream never passed from his lips. There was a bright flash and an explosion as the driver's window burst inward at him. Shattered glass and the payload from a twelve-gauge sawed-off shotgun turned his head into a faceless, shapeless mess.

  Then came the second blast. Thrown sideways, Paulie was tossed face down across Vanessa's lap. She began to scream hysterically, but was cut short when a third blast tore through the Lincoln’s rear window. Her blond tresses evaporated, as she lurched forward on top of Paulie, rolled over, and became lodged between the dashboard and the front seat.

  The man on the driver's side lowered his shotgun, and then leaned through the blown out driver’s window."You thought you could talk to them about me, my fat friend?" He and his accomplice then ran to their car, jumped in, and sped from the lot.

  -PART ONE-

  THE STREETS

  "Nice job, Adrian. You finally broke a law you couldn't beat. You broke the law of averages."

  - Bobby Russo

  Federal Agent

  Chapter One

  Adrian was jarred from a deep sleep when the phone rang. He squinted at the clock on the nightstand. 4:45 AM.

  The phone rang again. This time his wife moaned in disgust. "Answer that before I yank it out of the wall."

  He looked over at Jennifer, his lovely and devoted wife. She could have had a modeling career, and at twenty-nine still could. She didn't understand the life he led, and probably never would. But then, she shouldn’t have had to. Her place was that of a mom and wife, not an accomplice. He picked it up before it could ring again. "Hello."

  “You know who this is," said the gravelly voice.

  Irritated, Adrian said, "Yeah I know who it is, and I know what time it is, too."

  "Hey, this ain't no nine-to-five business. You're either ready or you're not. You want to see me, or should I call someone else?"

  "Of course I want to see you. I just wish your timing was better, that's all."

  “We'll be local in an hour. Be where you're supposed to be.” Click.

  Adrian put the phone back on the cradle and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He stretched his muscular, six-foot frame and yawned, then ran his fingers through his shaggy brown hair. He picked at his course, three-day beard, and then snapped on the light beside the bed. Blinded by its sudden glare, he hastily draped his T-shirt over it.

  His wife groaned.

  “I suppose you're going out, right?”

  “Angie'll be here in an hour, I have to meet him.”

  "It's a great business you're in, Adrian. Too bad it doesn't leave time for your family.

  "You know better than that," he said, sitting up.

  Just then, a small child began to cry in the next room.

  Irritated, she said, “Now look, Andy’s awake. What a great life!” Despite being agitated, Jennifer admired Adrian’s love for their three-year old son. Sometimes it was hard to tell which one of them was the grownup. Adrian’s rugged exterior and formidable physical attributes concealed a much gentler side that was well hidden because of his involvement in ‘the business’. She’d nearly decided against dating him when they had first met. But as she got to know him she found herself inexplicably drawn to the man she’d later fall in love with and eventually marry. Life with Adrian Cabraal had hardly been boring. Unfortunately, there were also times when it was decidedly unsafe.

  He dressed and went to the kitchen while Jennifer looked in on their son. Some strong coffee would cut through the cobwebs. Too bad it couldn't cut through the guilt.

  He was at the table when Jennifer entered, carrying their three-year-old son Andy, cradled in her arms.

  Adrian smiled. Andy was his pride and joy.

  “You should smile,” she said sullenly. “He thinks you're the greatest. I wonder how he'd feel if he knew what you do for a living.”

  “It’ll be over before he ever finds out.”

  “What’s that supposed to do, make it okay?”

  Andy squinted at his father and smiled. Adrian squinted back at him and smiled. Andy reached for him and was quickly swept into his father’s arms. They then shared a ferocious hug.

  “I love you,” Adrian said. “You’re my special guy.”

  “I love you too, daddy.”

  “I love you, too. Go with mama and get some sleep.”

  She took Andy back to his bedroom before he could answer. They had lived this conversation too many times. Yet, he knew she was right. There was no longevity living the life he’d insidiously become immersed in.

  He pondered the nature of his dilemma. Something was going to have to happen if this was to ever change. After a moment he got up and followed her into their son's room.

  “I have to go,” he said. He leaned over to kiss her, but she pulled away from him.

  “Come on, don't do this to me.”

  “Look, just go. Okay?”

  “Jen, you saw what they did to my father. The guy worked thirty years for the same company, gave them the best he had. When he had his heart attack they put him on the shelf like he was an old book. No one’ll ever do that to us.”

  “Sure, provided you live through it.”

  “Hey, anything worthwhile has risks.”

  She shot him an exasperated look, one that he’d seen too many times. What made it worse was knowing she was right. Again. Every time he went out she didn’t know if it was for the last time.

  “Look, I’m almost done. Pretty soon, I’ll walk away and we’ll live the rest of our lives like normal people. We’ll have anything we want with no one to answer to but ourselves.”

  “That’s the problem, Adrian. All we ever talk about are the things that will happen ‘some day’.

  “Hey, all I want is—“

  “Just go do what you have to do.” Then she turned and went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

  Adrian looked down at his now sleeping son. He smiled, then bent over and kissed him on the cheek. “You can do anything you want,” he whispered. “Just don't follow in my footsteps. That would break my heart.”

  Outside, he breathed deeply of the cool morning air as he walked toward his car. How many people owned a new eigh
ty-five thousand dollar 7-Series BMW with no payments? To him, it was the ultimate combination of technology and muscle. And ‘no payments’ was the way to own it.

  He snapped back to reality as his survival instincts took over. He scanned the lot for occupied cars. It had become fashionable to grab guys who did what he did and hold them for ransom. Then a deal could be made, or a trade. Or, if those doing the kidnapping were completely without conscience or character, a deal would be made that turned into an old fashioned murder/robbery. Great business. Once he’d moved up in the world, life had become much more serious. There was no room for mistakes in a game filled with carnivores, all of whom played for keeps. Jennifer was right. It was time for him to lay off.

  He guided the BMW out into traffic and headed for the heart of downtown. Early morning traffic was light, and he hit green lights all the way.

  At the outskirts of the warehouse district, he noticed a commotion at The Bottom Line. Flashing lights from four police cruisers and two ambulances lit up the parking lot like a video arcade, and police were restraining a crowd of spectators. Adrian still had a half hour before his meeting with Angelo, so he pulled over and got out of his car. As he walked onto the lot, he saw the familiar face of Jimmy, the valet.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Paulie Lapienza got blown away,” answered Jimmy.

  “He finally bought it, huh? It's a miracle it didn't happen a long time ago. The guy lived dangerously, playing both sides like he did.”

  “Wasn’t pretty, that’s for sure.”

  “Jimmy, you ever see a snitch die pretty? See you around.” As he was about to walk back to his car he and Jimmy were almost run down by a late model sedan that swerved into the lot and screeched to a halt twenty yards away. Two men in their late twenties jumped out and jostled their way to the center of activity. Adrian frowned and moved in as close as police would allow.

  "Who's in charge?" one of them asked. He was squat and rugged looking.