The Delivery

Fedele

Fedele

TNPer
Fedele Fantoccini lit a cigarette as he walked out of the rain into the sanctuary the bridge made for the homeless in that area of Houston. With the noisy freeway to the right of him he walked forward and looked to his left for the package. He saw what he had come for next to an old man wearing clothes that had obviously been someone's trash at some point and a bottle of Jim Beam that had nothing more than an ounce left within its sacred crystal walls. I was obvious that the old man had tried to get into the briefcase by beating it with whatever he could find but the reinforced steel locks had served their purpose allowing the old man to inflict nothing more than dents and scratches onto the vessel of the fine riches inside.

Taking the cigarette from his mouth and putting the other hand into his trenchcoat pocket, Fedele made a half hearted attempt at encouraging the man to simply hand the briefcase over to him. "I believe that was left for me, sir."

"No, uh... You can't have it. I found it myself so I get to keep it."

"I'm sorry, but that's not the way it works", Fedele said as he pulled his hand out of his pocket and unbuttoned his trenchcoat. The old man took a few steps backward and fell over onto the blanket he had laid out on the ground as Fedele opened his coat just enough to reveal a .44 caliber Smith and Wesson revolver easily provoking the old man into taking his few belongings and leaving Fedele with what he wanted. Fedele closed his jacket up and took the breifcase back out into the pouring rain to finish what he had been sent to do.
 
(Let's see, I think this is how this works... if not, let me know and I'll edit all this out)

The old man watched from the shadows as the gangster walked around the corner of a building and out of sight. Following well behind, the tramp watched as the trench-coated figure climbed into a waiting taxi and told the driver the name of a high-clas hotel downtown before closing the door.

Having obtained the information he was sent out to find, the homeless man hurried back to an old warehouse several blocks away. Sticking his head inside the broken window, he saw a tall man in a lesiure suit waiting for him. He climbed inside and approached the man.

"Where's the briefcase? I told you to try and collect it."

"I tried to knock it open to make sure it was the right one, but the damn thing was locked. Someone took it."

"Who? You at least saw who took it, didn't you?"

"A man... he looked Italian, was wearing a trenchcoat and smoked... fairly expensive stuff, judging by the filter... he took the case and got into a taxi. Said he was going to the Rellina."

The man smiled, giving him an almost devilish expression. "The Fantoccinis..."
 
A piercing tone issued from the slim white phone as it skittered across the dark granite countertop. The cook dusted his hands on his apron and picked up the handset, holding it away from his ear as a shrill, breathless voice issued from the speaker.

"Yes, I'll accept the charges."

"What do you mean didn't get the case?"

"I see. And did you see a license plate or anything? Do you have any idea how many anonymous Italians pick up nondescript briefcases in this city every day? No matter, I suppose I didn't pay enough for you to actually do anything. Go back to your hovel, and the cost of this call is coming out of your payment. Yes, at the newsstand. Yes, unmarked bills. Do you honestly think this is the first time I've done this? God save us from fools."

The pasta dough was balled back up, and placed carefully back in the bowl, then covered with a slightly damp towel. Tagliatelle would have to wait - in fact, he thought, he'd be lucky to eat at home once more this week, with a cockup of this magnitude in the offing. Punching a number in to the phone from memory, he brushed stray flour from the hamdset and put it to his ear.

"Fletcher - Of course. Did you actually expect him to do it? For the love of God, Fletch, we bribed him away with two bottles of Nyquil and an old skin mag. Anyway, our friend will just have to find a new informant, unless he thinks he can put the pieces of this one back together."

"No, I decided the poor bastard who runs the stand didn't need the mess and publicity - he's just going to pass out on some train tracks. Happens to twenty bums a week, I'm sure. But it is definitely a pain in our collective ass, as well as not good for our image. Gonna be hard to keep the troops in line if we appear soft here."

"Oh, that's what I was hoping you'd say. Do whatever you think you need to - you know the rules. Just let me know how big a check I need to write to whom to make it go away."
 
Fedele told the cab driver to stop the care two blocks away from where he was going. He saw a black sedan that looked to be following him but let out a sigh of relief as it took a left turn when he got out of the cab. Fedele walked along the sidewalk with the tall office building with dark-tinted windows to his left making it easy for Fedele to watch those walking behind him. He looked around making no one was watching as he slipped into the alley with his precious cargo in hand.
 
Many groups needed this case tonight. So far the law didnt know about it. Not teh real Law anyway.

Jack Fulhead was a detective, working on his own. The legend goes that he was one of the TNP Police departments hottest detectives, before things went sour.

He needed this Briefcase. He needed it badly. The last few jobs hadnt been so good, people just couldnt afford to pay for Jacks services now. So he turned to his more...unusual talents. And thats what led to now. One Job, one voice on a telephone. one job that would turn his life, and income, around.

The phone rang, bringing Jack out of his daydream.
"Yeah" he said.
"Someone dropped the ball out here" the un-named voice said, obviously annoyed.
"So its on?"
"right."
A few minuets later Jack had his coat on, had checked his holster and was out of the door.
 
Fedele walked down the alley until he came across a brown door to hir right leading into an old, abandoned apartment building.

"What you got in the brief case, boy?"

Fedele turned to see a man reasonably well built popping his knuckles in his hand as if he were walking into a bar fight.

"None of your damned bussiness. Now just go along on your way and leave me to my bussiness."

"Anything in my alley is my bussiness!" he yelled as he lunged for the briefcase. Fedele, never being one to pass up an opportunity to exploit an opponent's mistake, side-kicked the man hard in his left knee as he lunged for the briefcase, effectively bending it just enough to create a loud popping noise. Fedele watched the man fall to the ground yelling and holding his knee and pulled out his revolver and put the end of the barrel firmly against his forehead as he stood over him.

"Shut up."

The man stopped yelling immediately and stared straight into Fedele's eyes like a deer caught in the headlights of an eighteen wheeler. "Do you see where being an asshole got you?", Fedele asked, waiting for the man to nod. "Do you have your wallet on you?" The man nodded. Fedele slipped his hand into the man's coat pockt and took out his wallet before removing the cashe and giving it back to him.

Fedele opened the door and went inside leaving the man lying on the ground shaking in fear and pain with a circular bruise on his forehead from the gun barrel.
 
Fulhead stopped the car at the end of the road. road isnt the word. more of a red light district. He weaved his way down the road, avoiding the varied crowd he passed. Though trying to remain inconspicuos as he walked past ladys offering services to any and all comers, loadys who werent actually ladies, and the drunk revellers leaving Flemingovas Sauna was harder than it seemed.

he reached the Bar near the other end- the bar the Voice had tipped him off about. Outside gathereed a crowd of increasingly intoxicated men. In the middle sat a man who looked even more worse for wear. Most distinctivly he had a round, gun-barrel shaped bruise on his forehead.

"..Coming onto out turf..we should show those uptown punks" one of the men grumbled.
"yeah they cant *hic* mess with us" slurred another.

Fulhead sighed and pushed through the small crowd.
"You. Out. Now"
He dragged the bruised man out of the crowd. He doubted any of them noticed.
"The briefcase, where is it"
The man tried to stand up, make a stand. The look in Fulheads eyes showed him this was a bad idea.
"he has it.."
"who?"

A few seconds later Fulhead started down the alley.
 
As Fedele walked down the long hall, he sat the briefcase down by his feet to make sure his gun was fully loaded. He didn't expect this to be too complicated but he didn't want to take any chances either. When he finally came to the eighth door on the right, he turned the doornob and pushed the door open and put his hand on his gun.

"Come in. What took you so long?", Salieri called from the far side of the room.

"I had trouble with a couple of bums."

"Well, bring it over here."

Fedele brought them the suitcase and entered the 10-digit combination. "I think I'll remember that number for the rest of my life", Fedele said as he opened the briefcase to reveal the one hundred stolen diamonds.

"Holy shit... That's gonna be...", Salieri began to say before Fedele cut him off.

"The money?"

"Sorry, I was just admiring your product. Joe, get the man his money."

"This is only 500 thousand. Where's the rest?"

Salieri was shaken but tried to look confident. He knew Fedele was known to be impulsive. "You get the rest when you leave. When you walk out the door there will be a trash can to your left. The money is in the trash can inside a black trashbag. This is just so we can guarantee our own safety."

"Hell no."

Salieri, hardly able to conceal his fear asked timidly, "What's wrong?"

Fedele simply shook his head and shot Joe in the head staining the wall behind him with specks of blood. "Get me the money or I'll waste your ass too. That is how you will insure your safety."

Salieri turned around and opened a cabinet behind him pulling out the rest of the money. "I knew you were lying to me Sal", Fedele said as he shot Salieri twice in the head.

Fedele reloaded his gun, grabbed the suitcase and went into the hallway and walked out of the building.
 
The scream got fulheads attention. HE sped down the alley until he reached the door. Squatting on the step was a small boy, eyes teary. Inside he heard the voice of a woman, she was shouting, obviously distraught.

He stepped out of the shadows into the light coming from the lamp above the sparse doorway. The boy turned and looked at him.
"You the police?" the boy said. his accent was a mix of Pacifician and something Fulhead couldnt quite place. He took less than a moment to answer.
"yes son. can you tell me what happened here?"
He said nothing and just pointed inwards. Fulhead nodded and moved down the corridor. He saw the woman he had heard before.
"Police?" she echoed.
"Yes ma'am". She turned and looked pointedly through another door. Turning is head, Fulhead saw the corpse of Salieri.
"wait, how i know you really Police?" she asked. Fulhead pulled out an old badge, and flashed it.
"Did this man have anything unusually with him, a briefcase prehaps?"
"no"
"Did you see anyone unusual, suspisious maybe, around?"
"no, but he has partners round all time!"
"partner?" fulhead asked
"yeah business you know!"
"anyone visit him tonight?"
"no, i dont know, ask Marco"
"marco?"
"yeah, he work with sali"
"Fulhead nodded and left without a word
 
Markus was not enjoying his time in Houston: the air was too hot, the nights were too cold and he could not find a decent damn cup of tea in the whole city. He'd given up on wearing his suits two days previous; there wasn't much point anyway, the most he'd done since his arrival was flirt with a girl behind the counter a seven/eleven.

It was jobs like this that really made him wish he'd listened to his father and stuck it out. He could be sitting in an air conditioned office in London still.

A harsh shrill broke his concentration, it was the first time his phone had rung in days...
 
Fedele heard the scream in the alley behind him and decided to walk faster. When he heard the woman talking frantically off in the distance he walked even faster and put his hand inside his jacket with a firm grasp on his gun. As he came out of the alley he realised he had to get out there in a hurry. He walked up to a man getting in his car and handed him two hundred dollars.

"Holy shit..."

"Take me to Enron field", Fedele said in a hurried slip of the tongue.

"Minute Maid park?"

"Yea, jackass. And push the pedal hard."
 
This was not Markus' luck day. Not only had his lead turned cold, but now some jackass was using him as a chauffer. He floored the pedal and wove through the rush hour traffic; might as well get this over as quickly as possible.

He checked out his 'passenger' in the rear-view mirror. He looked like he had some european in him, possibly Spanish or Italian. He did seem awfully familar though...
 
"Ok, let me out here. Christ! Slow down!"

Fedele frantically undid his seatbelt and opened the door and getting out. As he walked from the car he realised that the driver had gotten him all the way to Minute Maid Park* in little under five minutes.

"Holy hell!"

Fedele ran back to the car and opened the door long enough to tip the man another hundred dollars before running to his final destination two blocks away.
 
Markus watched that Italian -- his accent had confirmed it -- walk away, whilst pretending to count the wad of cash. Mafiosa in Texas? I didn't think they came this far south.

He drove out of view and parked the car. His other leads were dead, maybe this guy could lead him to his man.
 
Fedele came to the old wharehouse to meet his boss and looked around before entering but he wouldn't of been able to see anybody following if there was because of the darkness. He opened the rusty-hinged door and walked inside.

"Fedele, my good man. Come here, have a drink. We were just talking about you."

"I've got the money and the diamonds. Salieri is dead."

"See boys?", Don Vigneto asked rhetorically, "He always goes above and beyond. Here, Fedele, take a few diamonds. Give a few to that lovely girlfriend of yours."

"Thanks, boss."
 
Listening outside of the Warehouse, Markus could not believe his luck: it was the Mafia. He stopped himself short of bursting into the warehouse -- he was one lightly armed man against all of those Mafiosa; he'd be pig-feed in a matter of seconds.

Much better to keep an eye on this 'Fedele', maybe there is more to learn.
 
"Ciao, boss. I got some errands to run", Fedele said as he walked back to the door.

"Yea, hey, I'll see you here later tonight."

One of the men Vigneto was meeting him with asked him, "You let him do jobs on the side?"

"Yea, what do I care, eh? With being my best guy he gets a few perks."
 
Carmen Molina watched from the quiet confines of her van and smiled, it looked like good ole Markus had made one hell of a score and right on time. She watched the vid absently as she poured over the map of the mansion. Her boss whole be down right pleased if she managed to snag up the rest of those diamond by the weeks end. But there was no use rushing things. Speed in her business was death when it came to guys like Markus, and she was much patient a person to be that stupid.

Sipping her coffee, she stretch out in the back of the van and took notes. In a couple of days, when the last of her gear arrived, she's do a more personal survey of things.
 
As Fedele walked out the door and onto the street he heard a noise to his right but when he looked whatever had been there was gone. "If I get attacked by another damned hobo I am going to purge this place of vagrants", he muttered as he walked along the sidewalk looking at cars parralell parked along the curb. Then he saw it. It was a brand new 2006 red Mustang that looked like it had been loaded up with every option the dealer offered. Fedele walked in a circle around it running his fingers along it as he walked as if he were trying to feel every curve in it like an archaeologist who had uncovered a mythical city. Out of a pocket in his trenchcoat he pulled a tool and got to work on the doors and within ten minutes was driving it away.

"So, Fedele, where'd you get the car?"

"Martin, what's wrong? You don't trust me? I bought it from a guy who was having financial troubles."

"Nobody who owns this car is having financial troubles."

"Maybe the car was the reason he was having financial troubles."

"Yea, whatever. Got the paperwork?"

"I forgot it at home."

"Yea, right. The keys?"

"I forgot them too."

"I see... Well, Fedele, I can't give you any more than 10,000 for it... That ok?"

"Sure, whatever. Can I get that in cash?"

"You always do."

"Thanks, Martin. Have a diamond."

"Wow. Fedele, thanks."

Fedele had been doing that at least 3 times a week for the past year. He had made a fortune off of car theft and had never been caught. He sold them to guys who sold them to other people who, in turn, sold them to other people and, although it brought the profit lower, there was very little chance of getting caught. Especially if someone like Fedele who travelled a lot was doing it. Then again, giving the cops a piece from time to time never hurt.

Fedele called a cab and had it take him to two blocks away from his modest apartment.
 
It had taken Marco awhile to come round to Fulheads way of thinking. It had taken him 3 hours, some live electric wires and a liberal amount of pain, but Fulhead had some names.

He hadnt slept, but he had visisted each name one by one. This was Fulheads last shot. If he couldnt find this "Fedele" soon, he'd lose it all. he really shouldnt have taken that loan from the Vigneto family to cover his gambling debt.

The car pulled up outside the dishevelled car dealership. The name Fulhead had was Martin.
 
Fedele woke up the next morning and looked outside to see a clear, blue sky that stretched for as far as the eye could see. He put on his white suit and his silk tie and grabbed his usual .44 and went out the door.

As he stepped outside he scanned his eyes over everything around him checking everyone out looking for anything that might look out of place. He walked down the sidewalk and went to his favorite diner for his usual breakfast.
 
Martin opened the door to be greeted by the barrel of a .44 magnum pointed straight at him. The gun pushed itelf into his forehead as Fulhead pushed his way in. They didnt speak until they reached the kitchen.
"Sit. now". Martin did as he was told.
"Where is he?" Fulhead asked
"Who?"
"dont be coy with be jackass. The one with the case" It had been a long day for the detective.
"What?"
"The briefcase! big silver thing, diamonds for gods sake!"
The penny dropped. While Martin emited some strange gargled "errm" noises, Fulhead gazed around the dirty room. His eyes rested on an unusual glint.

"err what..what diamonds?"
Fulhead turned his head away from the car dealer. "ok. i belive you"
"Oh thank god.."martin said as he stood up. Fulhead turned and his fist through through the air. His jaw shattered with the force of the punch. Fulheads hand fell back, revealing the rough, uncut diamond held in his knuckels.

Teeth and blood fell to the floor in time with Martin. He glanced up to see the handcannon pointed at his head once more.
"Fedele.."he mumbled. "he should be at Jacks Diner".
"thats all i wanted to know." Fulhead said as a bullet passed through Martins brain.
 
Fedele finished up his breakfast and tipped the waitress the same $20 he always tipped her. It's amazing the level of service he got there. He got up to leave but paused when he saw a car pull into the parking spot just in front of the window to his left.
 
As he left the car he saw him. The man the Voice had described. Fedele. This was it. The briefcase must be here!
He walked slowly to the door of the cafe, his eyes leaving fedele momentarily. He reached the door, placed one hand in his pocket and with the other, pulled the balaclava he had prepared over his head.

He stepped through the door, his hand leaving his pocket clentching the revolver.

"Everyone get the f*** down!" he shouted as he fired into the ceiling.
 
Fedele took the moment it took the gunman to get the people on the ground to run and dive behind the counter while still keeping in mind to tell the waitress that the meal wa "Excellent, as usual".

Fedele pulled out his revolver, stood up high enough to see over the counter and fired eight shots at the attacker, got back down and reloaded his gun.
 
"crap!" he exclaimed as he dived behind a booth

one hearing fedeles' eighth shot, Fulhead jumped up and fired his remaining seven. The bottles behind the counter smashed and whiskey poured out onto the ledge.

Diving down, Fulhead reloaded as he saw his opponent move..
 
Fedele looked around the side of the counter to see the tip of Fulhead's foot sticking out from the booth and fired at it four times to make him back off further into the booth before turning around and taking a full sprint at the back entrance and going into the Alley. Fedele knew Fulhead would make it out before he got out of the alley so he went behind a dumpster and reloaded his gun.
 
Fulhead was an inch out of the door when he heardthe gun go of. quickly he dived back inside.
Lowering himself so he was crouching, he turned and fired. He saw Fedeles head go down as he ran out behind a delivery truck parked opposite. Leaning around the corner he fired again.
 
Fedele looked ahead of him and saw a metal trash can next to the door. After Fulhead fired his fill, Fedele ran as fast as he could as Fulhead reloaded and ducked behind the trash can and took the lid in his hand.
 
Fulhead jumped up, using the lid to hide his torso. He popoed out and fired the trigger-

into thin air. his eyes scaned the area. where was that dahm fedele!
 
Fedele jumped to his feet and delivered a hard right hook to Fulhead's jaw and pointed his gun at him.

"Who sent you, dipshit?"
 
Fulhead slowly pulled himself back up to full height, consious of the gun pointed at him.
He held the gun out to one side, holding it using only one finger placed on the trigger.
Looking Fedele straight in the eye he said
"you havent exactly made any friends recently, have you?"
 
"I s'pose I haven't."

Fedele fired a bullet just over Fulhead's shoulder.

"Who are you with and what do you want?"
 
The shock knocked Fulhead back slightly. At teh same time he sensed opportunity.

His eyes drifted to Fedeles feet as he said nervously:
"what..what do i want..well isnt it?" His hands tightened around the revolvers handle. he stepped back, raising an arm to push fedeles gun aside. at the same time he raised the gun and pointed it straight between the eyes of his opponent.

"The diamonds!" he said forcefully. "Now!"
 
"I don't have the diamonds, dumbshit. I gave them to my boss who has probably already taken them to the safe house. If you kill me you won't find them."

Fedele looked at the ground for a moment as he thought to himself.

"If I take you to the diamonds and help you get them, what's in it for me?"
 
"Come with me. We're going for a ride. We don't want to rush in empty handed."

Fedele walked up to a parallel parked Honda Accord and smashed the driver side window, got in, hotwired it and unlocked the door for Fulhead.

"We're going to see a guy I know. He's got what we'll need."
 
Cautiously Fulhead got in, his gun aimed at fedele. at the same time he pulled off the balaclava.
"How do i know i can trust this guy? and you?"
 
Fedele got the car to start and turned to Fulhead and said, "First off, get that gun out of my face or I'm not taking you anywhere. Second, you can't trust this guy and you can only trust me because I need you for the time being. There's about two and a half million dollars worth of fine cut diamonds in that suitcase and I would like to get a cut of that."

Fedele pulled the seatbelt across as he pulled out watching the frightened witnesses in his rear-view mirror in case one of them decided to be a hero.

"When we get to this guy's place, stay outside. He won't like you coming in and I should be in and out real quick. I'm just getting some fire power for our job. We'll need it."

As Fedele uttered those words he saw red and blue in his rear view mirror. "Dammit", he muttered to himself as he pulled off to the side.

"Sir, can you please step out of the car?"

"Sure thing." Fedele got out of the car and put his hands against the hood. The cop searched him for weapons and pulled the .44 off of Fedele with eyes wide with surprise.

"Put your hands behind your back" he said as he cuffed Fedele and continued the search. When he pulled the dirver's liscense he paused. "Oh, I'm sorry, Fedele. Tell Vigneto it was just a misunderstanding, please. I didn't know it was you."

"It's not a problem, officer. Will that be all?"

"Yea, you can go on your way. Thank you."

Fedele climbed back into the car and continued along the way.
 
"interesting" Fulhead mumbled. "here was me thinking you were just a street hood."

Fulhead lowered the gun slightly and settled back for the ride
 
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