Topsy-turvy
Viglio reclines in a seat as well.
“Mr. Redman was a former mafia protection contract. As for Kreg, I have mentioned that we were once peers. All this happened before I went freelance.”
The Plot Thickens
(Attn:Wickerman)
Aaran hit the little business alcove that the hotel had set up for the travelling suits. It gave them a cube away from cube to check email and recieve faxes while on vacation, attending sales meetings, or cheating on their spouses.
The fax was just coming out as he went into the musty little room. CONFIDENTIAL was printed across the coverpage in bold black. The picture wasn’t that good and the record was sparse indeed which means it had been professionally cleaned but that was his man.
He folded up the sheet and tucked it away. Time to make an introduction was at hand, it seemed.
Topsy-turvy
(Attn: Logan)
“Very well. It seems we have some information that may be fiscally rewarding and useful in other ways.” He pondered the possibilities. “A hit has already been performed on the Italians and we can assume that these people were behind it. They will target our Oyabun next no doubt. I shall tell him only that I believe that someone is going to try a major hit on us and won’t bother him with the details. Then I shall try to make a deal with the Italians to advance our interests.” He looks at his men. “Do you think you could find one or both of your previous companions and make them aware that we have a person and some information that might be for sale?”
Recovery/Cleanup
(Attn: Seahawk)
The proof in this case comes in the form of a picture clipped to a note. The picture is of a man with dark hair weraing an immaculate suit. The face meant nothing to him. The note attached said, “This man is a trained assassin. He put the hit on those two men. They were out of favor with the Italians. His name is Viglio Leonardo Della Rocco, but that is not important. He will no doubt be using an assumed name and is a master of disguise.” It was unsigned. That name had been cross checked with known associate’s of Coldstone’s family adn red-flagged. It could be legit and bore checking out. According to a snitch he had back east, they had sent a heavy hitter this way.
Topsy-turvy
“Kreg was rumored dead, he may not be aware that I know the truth of his death. Approaching him would no doubt be hasty. My main contractor within the mafia has been dealt with, and I assure you, from the pieces… I know he is not coming back.”
He collects the DVD and places it in the nondescript case.
“I need to have this cleaned up, so I can tell you how much info I have on the mystery man.”
He looks to One Killer to see if hisnew friend wishes to tag along on his trip downtown.
The Plot Thickens
The folded paper slipped into his jacket pocket with ease.
Just one more thing to do and he would have pretty much all the information he needed or in fact could gather at this time.
The room swipe card slid through and the door bleeped its approval before opening for him.
Aaran pushed the door carefully as the manilla envelope on the floor appeared.
He dropped onto the edge of his bed and ran the top of his nail under the lip of the envelope.
A small hand-written piece of paper fell into his waiting hand and he unfolded it and put it on the bed.
He then took out the FAX and placed it next to the note.
Now not only did he have an up-to-date picture he had a name and place of residence too.
After a quick shower and change of clothes he was ready and keen to make this mans aquantance.
The room door clunked close as Aaran headed out of the room and onto, hopefully an eventful afternoon.
Recovery/Cleanup
(Attn: Seahawk)
The picture stared back at Thomas Conroy Dahl in his office. The lights were off, a lone desk lamp lighting the desk where the file remained spread out, the photo of the man called Viglio Leonardo Della Rocco in front of him, almost taunting him to strick out in search of the man.
The silence in the office only forced Dahl to keep his eyes on the file, searching for an answer he might never find. He had a name and Castallanto from back home had told him he had a “big hitter” in his court now. Thomas didn’t mind that as much, as long as this big hitter was hitting someone else.
But there was a hole in his buisiness because of this hitter. And it was starting to annoy the former NYPD man that he had nothing to go on. This Rocco was damned good, that much was known and was becoming apparent.
But how to start hunting the hunter? How did you find a man that already planned fourteen ways to lose any track you tried to use on him?
Sitting back in his chair, Dahl yawned, feeling the muscles in his shoulders grumbling loud enough to know this case was starting to ride on him. There hadn’t been much of these before, as Dahl was able to get his man quickly.
The headlines screamed for something, anything. Las Vegas Police Department was in a position that no police orginzation wanted to be. No answers, no clues and a public angry at what had happened in front of them in thier city. Thomas did not envy them at all. For a moment, he stood at his desk, taking one last look at the picture and walked to his couch, where he laid down.
Then it hit him. Springing up without a word, he busted out his office door and ran down the hallways as others did the customary hit the wall (which they had gotten used to in the first week) as Dahl hauled to the security office, picture in hand.
Flannery was there, custom cup of java there. Dahl motioned for her to follow him. She did so, flashing that smile all the while.
“I need a search on the new Homeland Security system that we’ve just hooked up. The one tied into FBI, CIA and all that fun. I need a search done on this guy and anyone who would be connected to him in any way. Then, just to cover my bases I need a search on all our security footage in the last three months on this guy. I know it’ll take a bit of time, but I can handle that. Whatever you get, bring in hand to me. This is top.” She nodded, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, right.” Dahl chuckled and went back to her desk and grabbed her cup, taking it and handing it to her. Flannery entered the room, and turned on the coffee machine first and then turning her attention to the computer.
Dahl headed back to his office, hitting his cellphone and sending a message to Veretta detailing the progress so far. In his office, he lay on the couch looking at the orignal picture of Viglio Leonardo Della Rocco that he had.
That face was his only warm clue on a trail of cold dead ends.
Recovery/Cleanup
The morning was a tough one for Carlone. He had only dealt a little bit with the World Trade Center destruction in 2001, but nothing to the extent that his partner, who was still on the force at the time, did. He knew what he had to do, and was on automatic for several hours after he heard the news. Rescue and recovery were his first priorities, although his concerns were not entirely to people.
Carlone arrived on-scene shortly after the explosion to find his office decimated. It had been only thirty feet from the point of impact, and it sustained massive amounts of damage. He surveyed the wreckage, picking up pieces of debris that had once been his oak desk. It took him a few hours, but he was able to locate and, with some help from his personal security teams, move his safes and the remains of his computers to a more secure location. He had heard the news of Paulie and Frank, but it didn’t really faze him. His minimal exposure hadn’t allowed him time to foster a healthy disrespect for the brutish gang-banger and his lackey. The news that bothered him most was hearing that Tima was going to be taking over casino operations until a suitable replacement could be found. Vallone had apparently been murdered, which meant some heavy hitters were on their way into town to take over the casino, giving Tima the advantage, an element of surprise that Veretta found uncomfortable. The enhanced presence of the FBI and Homeland Security personnel gave Carlone little room to move on his own, but he had spent the better part of his life dodging in and out of their sights. He hoped Tima hadn’t had that opportunity.
Lunchtime came and Carlone spent a few intimate minutes with a tuna sandwich from the Red Cross. He spoke briefly to the FBI and had to, reluctantly, turn over the external camera angles to the their anti-terrorism unit. He also was able to call Agent Sanchez and glean what information he could. Luiz said they didn’t have much this early and Carlone believed him; it was just too early in the investigation. Three o’clock came. Carlone realized he hadn’t slept in over thirty-six hours so he called Reeves and Flannery to tell them he was going to be out of the loop for a while. He meandered to his suite, grabbed a few personal items and headed out to a smaller, more anonymous hotel across town, far away from the noise of the Savannah.
As he arrived at the room he always kept available, he called Dr. Tyrell to check on Othello. The doctor let him know that he was doing fine, and had already left his place, apparently back to the ranch. Carlone tried, several times, to contact him, but had only received either voicemails or no answer. Annoyed, but relieved at hearing that O was alright, Carlone pulled his shoes off, chambered a round in his sidearm, and collapsed on the bed, fast asleep.
…
Deep inside his jacket pocket, a red light beaconed. Carlone’s eyes opened, only to focus on the clock beside the bed. He had apparently slept for just over four hours.
He stretched his arms over his head, yawning wide as he heard the near-silent beep. Sitting up, he re-holstered his gun and snagged the phone from his jacket. Flipping the face open, the bright color display alerted him that he had twelve new messages, all of which said the same thing in twelve different voices. He needed to get back to the casino.
Less than fifteen minutes later, idling in the evening traffic of Las Vegas, Carlone Veretta let his mind relax as he watched the technicolor on display all around him. He felt unusually helpless, yet ultimately powerful at the same time. An impatient honk behind him snapped his attention back to the stoplight which was already turning back to yellow. Waving his apologies in the rearview, he noticed the sky in front of him dither to a dull gray. Even twenty blocks away, Carlone could make out the unmistakable haze created by the rescue lights at the Savannah. His introspective mood darkened as he realized that his new day had only just begun.
Dahl had been digging around for clues, but has yet to bring him anything substantial. Veretta’s first item on his agenda was to find Thomas and get the their team back together.
Carlone pressed the gas and glided through tourist traffic as he dialed his phone.
Othello.
Topsy-turvy
(Attn: Dave)
The man declines to follow Lio. “I’ve got some things that need tending to.”
Lio heads to a local expert. The Silver Productions storefront was ostensibly a small adult film production company. Kyle Silver made enough money with this to finance his video surveillance and analysis business.
Lio sat in the lobby waiting for Kyle to come around. The dark skinned, attractive receptionist kept casting appreciative glances in Lio’s direction. She came around the disk and sat on it’s edge offering him a view of her long longs. “You should really think about joining our stable. The money’s good and it’s safe work.”
At just that moment the proprietor of the business entered the foyer. His white mane of hair was brushed back from a high forehead. Washed out blue eyes took everything in from behind a powerful set of bifocals. Long years of staring at screens had taken their toll.
"I’m sure Mr. Keats has better things to do with his time, Marie.” Kyle addressed Lio by the pseudonym under which he had made the appointment. He extended a hand. “Welcome. If you’ll step into my office I’ll see if I can help you.
The Plot Thickens / Recovery Cleanup
Attn: Wicker/Ego)
He set up surveillance on the target’s house. The man kept odd hours, that was for sure. At the stoplight Aaran saw him speed dial his cell to make a call.
Veretta cursed at himself as he realized someone had been tailing him since he left the house. Stress and a lack of sleep were playing havoc with his concentration. No answer at Othello’s cell. Time to deal with his pursuer.
Topsy-turvy
“Mr. Silver,” Viglio began as he was seated, getting right to brass tacks. “I am in possession of a standard DVD, and need a cover layer removed so as to identify a face beneath.”
Recovery/Cleanup
(Attn: Seahawk)
Something that felt like a moth fluttering by his cheek woke him up. Flannery stood beside the couch with a shit-eating grin pasted on her face.
“We’ve got something chief.” She gestured for him to come to the monitor. Once in place he saw a still shot of the man. The footage was taken from what he would always think of as Othello’s office. It was taken in profile and a high angle but there was no mistaking it. This was from before when he and Veretta had come on the staff. What was more interesting was he seemed to be talking to Othello. Unfortunately this was before audio pickups had been installed in the offices, so no dialog was available.
The Plot Thickens / Recovery Cleanup
Aaran hated being this close but in this instance he needed his target to make the first move.
The Plot Thickens
Veretta’s cellphone hums into his ear as a familiar voice answers.
“Hola Liuz. Yo tengo algo para usted…”
Topsy-turvy
(Attn: Logan)
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” He takes the disc from Lio and pops it into a slot in his desk. A portion of the blotter flips up to reveal a twenty three inch cinema display. He slides back a bit and accesses a keyboard that sits under desk level. “Hmmm, yes I think this image can be cleaned up. I might even be able to punch up the sound a bit and give you some general clues as to where this takes place.” He shifts his gaze to Lio. “How soon do you need it?”
The Plot Thickens / Recovery Cleanup
(Attn:Wicker/Ego)
Aaran watches his target end the call after a few moments and continues to follow him after dropping back to a more comfortable distance. Traffic is medium even at this hour. Vegas never stops, after all.
The man catches the sight of two local police cars and an unmarked black SUV in his rearview. They come from around a corner and begin to flank him. This could get tricky, it looks like he’s been made.
Topsy-turvy
Leo holds out a small but tightly wound roll of bills. One hundred dollar bills. “How about I buy your lunch when we’re done?”
The Plot Thickens
Aaran smiled to himself at the sight of the vehicles.
“Nice move.”
As much as Aaran needed to make his aquantance, it was begining to get crowded and he hated crowds.
The three vehicles kept their distance as he flipped up the lid on the laptop sat on the passenger seat.
A fullscreen display flicked into life and a small circle indicated the nearest BMW dealership: a hundred yards on his left to be exact.
He swung the rental BMW into the customer lot and jumped straight out of the car and walked briskly over to a well dressed salesman.
Glancing into the dealerships large glass frontage he could see that the two cop cars had rolled past but the SUV had pulled up just after the entrance.
Aaran spread a grin over his face and adopted a deep southern drawl as he turned to the salesman.
“Hey there son, i’ve been used to the 5 series for a while now and hear you boys are the place for doing a deal”
He thrust his right hand into the bewildered mans and continued to ramble on.
“I like that in a man, a good solid handshake. You can always tell a man by his handshake thats what i say”
The salesman regained his composure a little but could do nothing about Aarans loose mouth.
“So what say you take me inside and make me an offer while i looky over one of them Z4’s?”
The Plot Thickens
(Attn: Wickerman, Ego)
The passenger side door of the SUV opens and a man in a black suit with dark sunglasses gets out and walks over to Aaran and the first confused and then delighted salemsan. “Excuse me sir.” He flashes his ID for a nanosecond. “Agent Smith, can I have a word with you?”
Topsy-turvy
(Attn: Logan)
He looks at the money and smirks a bit. “Rush job, huh? Well I guess I could have it ready by lunch. Feel free to have a look around. I prefer to work without an audience but the performers don’t mind one.” He stared at Lio hoping he’d take the hint.