Is he drunk or dodging potholes?
-Officers everywhere
“Sir?” A lanky built Italian pops his head out of a minuscule-sized tan brick building next to the call box.
“Beau Masters,” I reply, accustomed to the protocol to enter the estate.
“ID.”
I place my driver’s license in his palm and wait. He swipes it under a black light and then types the number into a small laptop. Once he’s finished, he hands it back to me and opens the gate.
“Pull straight to the main house and enjoy your visit.”
“Thanks.” I know better than to stop along the way and poke my nose in their business. I’m here for a favor, not to piss in anyone’s Cheerios.
It takes me about five minutes of following the small road through the trees to reach the ginormous mansion of an estate. It’s surrounded by dozens of bright pink bougainvilleas and deep green grass, the colors extra bright against the white exterior. What is it with rich people and the color white, anyhow?
The obnoxious green monster I’m driving stands out like a sore thumb against everything. My father claims the best way to go unnoticed is to be obscenely obvious. I don’t agree with his methods, but he’s the career criminal, not me.
Parking the green goblin, I make my way to the front door and stare. There’s a ten-foot-tall glass water feature on the porch next to a beautiful variety of flowers. Every time I’m here, I swear it’s my favorite thing about the place until I go inside and find a million other amazing things to proclaim as my top pick.
Mo opens the door wearing an expensive suit and friendly smile. “Masters! There’s your ugly mug.”
Chuckling, we do a man hug, and I step inside.
“What’s good, Mo?”
His mocha-colored irises twinkle, with his jovial mood. “Staying busy like you. I have to admit; I was surprised to hear from you. Let’s sit in the bar.”
“You want to waste your good liquor on me, I won’t complain.” Grinning, I follow him through the sitting area toward an eloquently decorated bar. “Is your grandfather around?”
“Not today, but if this is business, I may be the one you want to speak to anyhow.”
He pours vodka for me, and a Courvoisier for him then takes the seat next to mine at the round cocktail table. The bar has about a dozen small tables with two, oversized comfortable chairs at each. There’s additional seating from rich, leather-covered couches placed tastefully around the room.
“I appreciate you letting me stop by and visit.”
“As long as you leave the badge outside, you’re always welcome here or in Chicago.”
“Thank you; I appreciate the hospitality. I still wish you would’ve gone to the station with me; you would’ve made a half-assed decent partner.”
“I told you, my being in the academy wasn’t about becoming an officer. I was sent there as a punishment from my familia.”
“I know, man; you just fit in really well.”
He nods, sipping the strong amber liquid.
“Anyway, I’ve been keeping busy with a family matter.”
“Non-work related?”
“No one knows about it besides my family and some bikers that’ve been helping me out.”
“Bikers, Masters? Holy shit, have you flipped?”
“No. I still uphold the law. This has been a sort of a search and rescue thing, I guess you could call it. Years back, I received a phone call from my father. He needed me in the UK to help a woman that’d been taken. The woman’s husband’s sisters had all been stolen and sold off as well. There are three of them.”
Taking a swig, I continue. “It’s this huge underground sex-ring organization going on in Russia and other countries. They steal women and children, specific families and such, then auction them off to different countries. My cousins have found entire shipment containers full of women being transported. The conditions and treatments are sickening; the psychological damage is horrendous.”
Pausing, I wait for him to be outraged, but he sits quietly like it’s no surprise.
“You…umm…you already know all this, don’t you?”
Swallowing, he nods silently, not incriminating himself. He knows I’m a cop. I wasn’t checked for a wire, and he has every right to be cautious. I do the only thing I can think of to redeem myself and his trust that he’s obviously questioning at the moment.
Remaining quiet myself, I stand and show him my palms. Then I peel off my shoes, one by one, handing them to him. He inspects each one carefully, and then I loosen my tie. I remove my jacket, unbutton my shirt and place them all on my chair. I spin in a slow circle with my arms out, so he can get a good look at me.
“Put them all inside the beer cooler,” he responds and nods toward the bar. “Pants too.”
Heading to the bar, I find the beer cooler, slide the top open, and shuck my pants off. I neatly fold my clothes and set them in a clean, clear plastic box. It’s almost like it was there for this specific reason alone.
It probably is. I’m a dumbass.
“Underwear, good?” I call.
“Let’s talk.”
Striding back over to the table, I feel almost as if I’m in trouble. I’m stuck in my underwear, inside the home of one of the leaders of the Italian Mafia. I should write a book about the crazy shit I go through. Maybe when I retire.
Plopping down in the seat, I take a large gulp of my vodka to warm me. “We good now?”
“Yep, you’ve been hitting the gym.” He nods to my torso.
“I have to man; crooks like to run,” I reply, and he snickers, finally relaxed again.
“Tell me some more about your problem.”
“Okay. So, one of those shipments that showed up, my cousin found his friend’s sister in it. This is the same man whose wife I saved. Since then, I’ve been contracted to find his family. We’re pretty sure his mother’s long been dead. We think one of his sisters has been killed, but supposedly there’s one more out there. I don’t know why his family was targeted especially, but with his wife being abducted, it shows that he’s clearly still on their radar.”
“You haven’t found her, I take it—the second sister?”
Shaking my head, I grumble, “No. I’ve been looking for five years.”
He remits a grunt at hearing the time frame. “Five, Masters? You know what happens after that long—what the odds are?”
“Yes, I’m all too aware.”
“Why have you kept going?”
“Because my father’s stubborn and her brother’s a psycho Russian who won’t take no for an answer. He’s out for her captor’s blood, and it’s less of a risk if I find the one responsible than if he does. He’s Mafiya of course, and I don’t want to draw attention to my family. I don’t know where else to look. I’ve hired biker gangs to search for her; I’ve tapped surveillance systems of different crime organizations. I’ve done it all except ask for outside help, but I’m at a loss, man.”
“And now you’re asking?”
“Yes.”
“Well, call me honored for you coming to my familia out of everyone for assistance. But you know these types of favors don’t come for free.”
“That’s not an issue; my father is willing to pay. He only requires a cash number and a routing number.”
“No, not that type of payment. I know exactly who your familia is. You should be the one running the Bratva right now. You’re meant to be at the top—a Capo.”
“No—”
He speaks over my interruption. “We’ll want a favor based on your familia’s Russian connections.”
“I don’t know if I can make that kind of a deal. I’m not their leader; I’m nothing to them.”
“But obviously you’re not nothing—you’re something. If you’re hunting down missing familia members and your father’s funding the expenditure, you sell yourself short. It tells me that this venture is important enough to your familia to pay in favors.”
“I see what you’re saying. I’m sure if it’s within reason, then my cousins will oblige.”
“Yes.” He chuckles. “Within reason, right.”
“You know how I can find her?”
“I need any information you have, and I’ll call my Uncle Luciano in Italy to see if she’s anywhere in that area.”
“Holy fuck, Sicilian mob Luciano Franchetti?” I gape.
He ignores the question. “Your familia knows there’s a chance the girl is already dead, right?”
“I’ve told them that too. The last time I got a good lead on her was almost five years ago. I’ve gotten little clues here and there, but nothing solid. Her brother calls me on the first of every month, and I have to tell him each time that I have nothing. I saved his wife; now, he thinks I can save his whole family.” My palm covers my face, rubbing over my cheeks and forehead in frustration.
“Shit.”
“Yep.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to my grandfather and uncle about it, and I’ll let you know what we find. Just send me an email with her information and any pictures you have. Leave search details out of the message; you know how it goes.”
I nod. “Thanks. I don’t have much on her though.”
“Any other business on your plate?”
“No. Doubt I’d want to deal with anything else at this rate.”
“Good, then get dressed so I can drive that badass Lamborghini you pulled up in.”
“Does this go with the favors you were mentioning?”
“Nope, this goes with the part of being friends; we get to drive each other’s cars.”
“I see, and what kind of car do you drive again?”
“A Lincoln MKX.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m getting the shafted end in this deal.”
He smiles, grabbing my keys off the table as he stands. “Better hurry; you don’t want to ride bitch in your boxer briefs. We may get pulled over with how fast I plan on going and think of how good you’d look booked in just your underwear.”
“We better not get arrested!” I declare, quickly heading for my clothes. “And the next time you talk business, make the other guy take his watch off. You're slipping.”
“This is why I should be the one paying you, not the police department.”
Shrugging, I pull on my now freshly-chilled clothing and shoes. I’m too busy mentally preparing myself for my life to flash before my eyes with Mo’s driving skills to be worried about my shitty paychecks from the PD. You don’t become a cop to get rich, that’s for damn sure. It’s all about helping people, about being willing to protect and assist those in need while upholding the laws. I doubt making family favors would fall under any of that though.