Tommy Gabrini: A Family Man Read online

  “What you want us to do now, Boss?” the guard asked.

  “Nothing right now,” Tommy said. “But stay tuned.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  And Tommy pressed the button and the window rolled back up. He motioned for their driver to get them out of there.

  “What do you think about that joker?” Sal asked.

  “What did you think about him?” Tommy reversed it.

  “Slick as oil,” Sal said. “I didn’t like him. He was screwing the shit out of us. I didn’t believe a word he said.”

  “Neither did I,” Tommy said.

  “And you saw Pauley as his underboss? Are you kidding me? Pauley? But I wasn’t surprised. He was a crooked motherfucker on the force.”

  And you weren’t, Tommy wanted to ask. “Get in touch with Pauley,” he said instead. “Tell him we’ll pay him a generous sum, far more than he’ll ever get from DeLuca, for intel.”

  “You think he’ll bite?” Sal asked.

  “He might. He’s slimy enough. Give it a try.”

  “Okay,” said Sal. “I’ll get right on it.”

  One week later, Pauley bit.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  He stood in the middle of the block on a three-lane, one-way street. The best way, Pauley Sabbatino felt, to make sure who came and who went. It was three am. Nobody came and nobody went. Exactly the way he liked it. But he was leaned against the boarded-up liquor store looking anyway, with one foot bent back and pressed against the building, and his other foot stretched out in front of him. One hand holding his cigarette. His other hand in the pocket of his jeans, on his piece. It was dark and quiet like he liked it too. The perfect meeting place. But that asshole had the nerve to keep him waiting. Nobody kept Pauley Sabbatino waiting. He didn’t put up with that shit with anybody.

  With anybody, that was, except Sal Gabrini.

  That was the only reason he stayed. Because he was meeting a Gabrini. Anybody else and he would have booked it out of there moments after their agreed-upon meeting time had passed. But he waited on Sal.

  He also had backup with him. One of his capos, Dale Birch, was standing beside him, waiting too. But Pauley was no fool. He told Sal he was bringing Dale along, so it wouldn’t be any surprise. One thing he learned in the mob world long ago: never surprise a boss. They hated surprises!

  When the dark SUV finally drove onto the quiet one-way street and stopped in the third lane over against the curb, Pauley tossed his cigarette without hesitation, zipped up his leather jacket, and he and Dale made their way across the street. He still didn’t like that he had to wait on Sal’s ass, and he was going to let that asshole know it too.

  When they crossed the street, Dale made his way over to the driver side of the vehicle, just in case there was any funny business going on, while Pauley remained on the street side, at the front passenger-side door.

  But when the window rolled down, Pauley was surprised to see Tommy Gabrini himself riding shotgun with his brother Sal. It was Sal who had called him. He assumed Sal was going to be the one to meet with him. But for Dapper Tom to be there too? Only proved to Pauley how big this shit really was. Only proved to Pauley how they were getting his services for a steal, and he needed to correct that problem right here and right now.

  “How you doing, Tommy?” Pauley reached out his hand. Tommy shook it. He had to shake it, Pauley knew, because he wasn’t just a snitch providing info. He was the underboss, the number two, to powerful mob boss Joe DeLuca. He was an inside man with inside intel. Intel the Gabrinis badly needed. Pauley had no doubt even Dapper Tom wouldn’t risk disrespecting him.

  When they stopped shaking hands, he glanced over at Tommy’s kid brother, with kid being a relative word, Pauley knew. Neither brother was anywhere near a kid anymore, and were only four years apart. “What’s up, Sal? When I saw you at the coffee shop, I recalled all those good old days we used to have together.”

  “You recalled them so well,” asked Sal, “why didn’t your ass say hey?”

  “Same reason your ass didn’t. I was gonna make it work for me too. That’s Dale Birch standing beside you,” he said, and Sal pressed down his window on the driver side too.

  “You remember Dale B,” Pauley said. “Used to hang out around the way back in the day. He’s with me.”

  “No shit?” said Sal. “I thought he was a stranger coming over to say hello.”

  Pauley laughed. “Same old Sal. How you doing?”

  “Depends on what you got for us. What you got?”

  “I got plenty. You think I’m out here this time of morning for my health?” He could talk to Sal that way. They went way back. He went way back with Tommy too. But you couldn’t shoot the breeze with Tommy. He remembered when Tommy was a precinct captain in the Seattle Police Department and Sal was a sergeant. Pauley worked on Sal’s crew, both of them worked under Tommy, and both of them were crooked as a curved road. But Tommy was straight-laced. And in a lot of ways still was. But they knew each other well.

  That was why Pauley rubbed the lapel of Tommy’s expensive suit without getting his hand slapped. “Nice suit,” he said. It always mystified Pauley how long-time thugs like the Gabrinis always dressed like they were regular business people going to the office. Sal, with his double-breasted suits, and Tommy with suits so fine and expensive they shined. Even this time of morning, and they were dressed that way. “What is that anyway? Silk?”

  “Come on, Pauley,” Sal said. He sat behind the steering wheel and patience r us was not him. “What’s your problem? Fuck the suit! Tommy’s here. You think he got all morning to be fucking around with you? Nobody’s got that kind of time. Tell him what you know.”

  “I got some good intel for you, Tommy. I’m not gonna lie. But I got a problem too.”

  Both brothers looked at Pauley, their big eyes blazing. “What kind of problem?” Sal asked him.

  “I’m risking my life over here. You know I am Sal. You know what’ll happen to me if DeLuca finds out I’m conversing with another family. I’m risking it all talking to you guys.”

  Tommy exhaled. “Just tell us what you need, Pauley,” he said.

  “I’m not satisfied with my fee, Tommy. That’s what I need. I need more dough.”

  “What are you nuts?” Sal responded. “I already promised you an arm and a leg!”

  “Then I need an eye and an ear too, Sal. I’m risking my life here!”

  Tommy decided to respond to Pauley before Sal could zing Pauley back. Tommy now had full control of Gabrini Capital, Inc., after Sal stepped down as number two to run his lucrative and dangerous crime syndicate full-time. But that didn’t mean Sal was no longer involved with GCI. He was. He was the one who got Pauley to flip and give them intel, which was a big deal. But Tommy had the final word. “How much?” he asked Pauley.

  Pauley hadn’t even thought about a number. “Fifty thousand more and we’ll be straight.”

  “Fifty thousand?” Sal was beside himself. “You pulled that figure out of your ass. He pulled that number out of his ass, Tommy, don’t listen to that fucker!”

  “Then don’t listen to me,” Pauley said. “And I can go back home and get in my warm bed. But where would your ass be?”

  “Are you threatening us?” Sal asked him.

  “Done,” Tommy said to Pauley. Ultimately, Pauley and Sal both knew that Tommy was calling the shots. “What you got? What’s your boss up to?”

  “He’s on a rampage. He wants to destroy your company.”

  “Just the company?” Tommy asked.

  “Just the company,” Pauley said. “He knows he can’t touch you physically. He’s the second-biggest mob boss in this country, if you just look at the territory he controls, but he knows who’s the biggest. He’s not going to war with your uncle.”

  “He’s the second-biggest my ass,” Sal said. “That’s you talking.”

  Pauley smiled. “What, Sal? You think you got a bigger organization than Joe DeLuca? In your fucking dreams!”


  “Who’s been pumping him?” Tommy asked Pauley.

  Pauley looked at Tommy. He was all about the business all the time. “Guy named Mortimer Steele.”

  “Steele?” Tommy asked. Then he looked at Sal.

  “Never heard of him,” Sal said. “He’s not on your payroll?”

  “No,” Tommy said. Then he looked back at Pauley, who stood outside the SUV at Tommy’s window. “You know him?”

  “I don’t know him,” Pauley said. “But I know he’s the contact because I heard a couple phone conversations.”

  “Who does he work for? Did DeLuca say?”

  “It doesn’t work like that,” said Pauley. “If I ask questions, he gets suspicious. I never ask questions. He got off the phone one day and said Mortimer Steele’s been providing him with some good intel on GCI. Insider shit.”

  “But he’s not inside,” Sal said.

  “If Steele isn’t the insider, then he’s got somebody on the inside.” He looked at Sal, and then back at Tommy. “You got yourself a major-ass leak, Tommy.”

  “But why would DeLuca want to bring GCI down?” Sal asked. “What is that his business?”

  “Because he wants to be the head honcho in Seattle,” Pauley said. “That’s the nearest I can figure it. He’s got his footprints all over the south, but he wants to make headways up here too.”

  “All that shit about his son wanting in?” Sal asked.

  “Bullshit,” said Pauley. “DeLuca wants more now. He wants every major city in the Pacific Northwest Mick the Tick doesn’t already control. Seattle is that major city. Everybody knows Tommy’s king of Seattle.”

  “What king?” Sal asked. “Tommy’s not in the game. DeLuca knows Tommy’s a businessman first and last. He’s not in the game.”

  “That’s what you say. That’s not what Boss is saying. He believes Tommy’s as much in as you are. He’s just undercover with his shit.”

  “Bullshit!” Sal said. “He told you that?”

  “He told me that,” Pauley said. “That’s why they call him Backdoor Tommy, he told me. GCI is just a front.”

  Sal couldn’t believe it. “A Fortune 500 company is a front. Can you believe this shit, Tommy? Who the fuck has a Fortune 500 company, an international giant of a company, as a front?”

  “Your uncle Mick Sinatra, that’s who,” Pauley responded quickly. “His company is Fortune 500, too, but it’s a front for all his illegal shit. And everybody knows Tommy is closest to Mick the Tick than anybody else. Why wouldn’t he follow in his beloved Uncle’s footsteps?”

  Sal looked at his brother and waited for him to speak up and dispute all that nonsense Pauley was spewing. But Tommy didn’t go there. “This Mortimer Steele is finding out our bid and DeLuca’s coming in just under it?”

  “Always just under it,” Pauley said. “And he’s also gotten wind of properties that don’t require bids GCI has been looking to purchase. Like that big fat mall property. And he plans to beat you to the punch on that property too.”

  Tommy was waiting for Pauley to tell him that. Because it was true. Now he knew Pauley wasn’t telling him a pack of lies. But he still had to be cautious. Pauley could be a double agent: telling them only what DeLuca wanted him to tell. “What about Stanley Mayflower?”

  “Yeah, Boss told me you were asking about old Stan.”

  “He works for DeLuca?”

  “Side jobs only. When he needed a particular individual iced or terrorized. Shit like that. But we haven’t employed that guy in years.”

  “We’ve got company,” Sal said. He was looking out of the rearview mirror.

  “A car?” Tommy asked.

  “Motorcycle,” Sal said as he grabbed his loaded gun from beneath the seat. As soon as Sal said the word motorcycle, that was when they heard it approaching.

  Pauley, careful not to look down the street to show that they noticed the rider, placed his hand in his pocket where his own loaded gun resided. Tommy already had his loaded gun at his side.

  “What’s he doing?” Pauley asked. “No lights? Riding slow?”

  “He’s got lights and he’s riding normal,” Sal responded, still looking out of his rearview. “Should be no worries. But just in case,” he said, placing his gun on his lap.

  Tommy was looking out of the side mirror, and remaining calm, because he knew he and Pauley had the best shots if it came to that. But it didn’t appear to come to that. The motorcyclist was about to past them, on the opposite side of the street behind where Pauley stood, at a regular rate of speed.

  But then the motorcycle suddenly veered toward the SUV. “Motherfucker!” Sal yelled, and Tommy grabbed Pauley to pull him inside the SUV’s window at the same time Pauley was turning to take the rider out. But both moves were too late.

  The motorcycle plowed into Pauley, knocking him so high in the air that he landed nearly twenty feet away. He fell onto the sidewalk so violently that it appeared as if every bone in his body had broken. His head hit the concrete so hard it bounced up once and hit down again, busting open and splattering.

  Tommy looked away. He’d seen that kind of senseless shit too many times.

  “Damn!” Sal said when he saw it. He’d seen it too many times too. There was no way, they both knew, that Pauley could survive that kind of trauma.

  But the rider didn’t wait around to make sure. He had already swerved again, almost crashing into the SUV and injuring himself, and was speeding away. Dale, Pauley’s man, was running to aide Pauley.

  “Get that fucker!” Tommy yelled to Sal as he leaned out of the window and tried to get a round of shots off at the rider. But the motorcycle was weaving from side to side and speeding too fast for any shot to come near him.

  Sal floored the gas pedal and took off after the rider. Both men glanced over at Pauley Sabbatino, with Dale holding his bleeding head, as they sped by. It was a sad end to a man they’d known for a very long time. A man just trying to feed an old friend intel and make some quick cash on the side. But Tommy and Sal both knew, at any moment, they could end up on some sidewalk too. It was the nature of the business. A damnable business.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The rider sped through an alleyway near the end of the street, but Sal knew Seattle like the back of his hand and knew not to turn the first corner because that street would dead-end.

  But he turned at the second corner and then made another quick right, sped up another narrow street, and was approaching the end of the very alley the rider originally sped into, just as the rider, with his motorcycle at full speed, rode out of it.

  When the rider saw the SUV, he took off in the opposite direction and sped around yet another corner. But he was going too fast and his back tire hit the curb, losing traction and tossing the rider from the bike. The motorcycle went flipping and flipping and nearly landed on top of the rider. But the rider, a young guy in his late twenties, jumped up from where he had been tossed, and took off across the sidewalk and over a fence.

  Sal stopped the SUV and both he and Tommy jumped out and took off after the rider. Although Tommy was the older of the two brothers, he climbed over the fence with ease. Sal, a little shorter and bulkier than his brother, climbed over too, but with a little more effort. But he caught up to Tommy just as Tommy was entering a boarded-up building that sat against a graffiti-covered retaining wall.

  It was dark inside the building, with the only light coming from the tactical light attached to the undercarriage of both their weapons to help guide their way. Both brothers had their guns drawn, and both knew to aim at every corner.

  The only signs of life they were seeing, however, were big, juicy rodents suddenly scrambling to get out of harm’s way, and the only thing they heard was the sound of water running down the sides of the building’s interior walls. But they kept moving, and stopping and aiming, and then moving again.

  Until Tommy placed his arm out to stop Sal’s progression. He thought he heard something. And then they both heard it: the sound of a doo
r slowly opening or closing, they couldn’t tell which, to the right of them.

  They quickly hurried to the door. One man on one side. The other man on the other side. Both guns lifted up. They had both been cops on secret busts many times in the past. They knew the drill.

  Tommy gave the nod and Sal moved in place, leaned back, and violently kicked the door in. With Tommy in front, both brothers showed themselves in the open doorway, crouched, aimed, and ready to fire. But all they saw were more rodents scrambling, and all they heard was the door they had just kicked open flapping against the jamb.

  But then Tommy felt a presence. And because his kid brother was behind him, he knew his brother’s back was exposed. He turned around quickly, saw a figure with his hand lifting up, and in a split second he fired. To protect his brother, and to completely disable the threat, he fired repeatedly.

  It wasn’t until the smoke cleared, and they hurried over to the suspect, did they realize it wasn’t the suspect at all. They’d seen the suspect. The man Tommy had just shot wasn’t him. The downed man was, instead, some young kid who couldn’t possibly be more than seventeen or eighteen years old. A kid who reeked of homelessness.

  Tommy was stunned. He was certain it was their suspect, that damn motorcyclist, ambushing them. And he had to protect his brother. But to see that it was an innocent kid threw Tommy for a loop.

  Sal was thrown too. He even looked at Tommy, and his eyes seemed to wonder if Tommy could have hesitated first. But he knew he couldn’t have. Had he hesitated, and it had been that motorcyclist, they both might have been dead.

  Sal was upset, too, but he also knew that rider was still at large, and possibly still inside that building. He left the boy’s side and continued to search for their suspect. But Tommy fell to his knees, and quickly tried to resuscitate the teenager. It was useless. There were too many bullet holes. But he pumped his chest, and blew air into his lungs, and begged him to fight. “Come on,” he thought he was saying out loud, but was only mouthing. “Come on!”