“Okay thanks,” Teddy said, and ended the call.
“Why don’t you have GPS on Nikki’s phone, Pop?” Marco asked him.
“What I need GPS on her for? She doesn’t have GPS on me. Nikki can take care of herself.”
“Ma can too,” said, “but Big Pops has GPS on her. That’s how he found out she was in that jail in that hellhole town in the first place. You can never be too careful when it comes to your wife.”
Teddy gave Marco a hard glare. But then he looked away. He knew his anxiety had nothing to do with his son, and everything to do with the fact that he failed Nikki. Like Pop told him more than once, he was giving her too much rope.
He phoned her one more time. And one more time it went straight to voice mail.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Geez,” said the driver as he and a bodyguard stood at their SUV, “this is a lot of fucking transportation. And they’re still coming in!”
They were on the tarmac of the private Philadelphia airfield as a long line of SUVs continued to arrive. “What’s going down?”
“Either it’s a family reunion,” the bodyguard said, “or they’re preparing for a mob hit.”
“Must be a reunion,” said the driver as they watched the private jets roll in. “They wouldn’t bring their wives and kids to no mob hit.”
“They’re bringing them to something!”
“A reunion like I said.”
But the driver was shaking his head. “They don’t look like they’re going to no reunion to me. Because when everybody’s showing up? And I meaneverybody? It’s usually something bad.”
It was beyond bad to everybody that dropped everything and made their way to Philly as big jets started coming into the Philadelphia airspace one after the other one. Each had two SUVs waiting: One for their families, and one for their capos.
And it was like a roll call for the driver and the bodyguard as they stood there amazed:
Business mogul and mob enforcer Tommy Gabrini and his family flew in from Seattle.
Former mob boss and major casino mogul Reno Gabrini and his family, along with Sal Gabrini’s family, flew in from Vegas.
Mob boss Sal Gabrini and his underboss Robby Yale, who had been in Philly earlier that day but had flown to Chicago to handle some syndicate business, flew back in from Chicago.
And as evidence of the seriousness of the situation, all of Big Daddy’s sons, from Brent Sinatra and Tony Sinatra to Bobby Sinatra and Donald, flew in with their families from Maine. They were never allowed to be a part of the Sinatra and Gabrini mob world, and that was the main reason they often didn’t accompany their father when situations went down. But this was different. Mick was down. And not just down, but nearly out. Thisfeltdifferent.
And the roll call continued:
Trevor Reese flew Big Daddy’s daughter Carly in from Boston.
Monk Paletti flew Big Daddy’s daughter Ashley in from Jersey.
Even billionaires Alex Drakos and his brothers Oz and Marcellus Drakos flew in with their families, along with Mick’s daughter Gloria and her and Oz’s child.
Amelia Sinatra, Mick and Big Daddy’s half-sister, flew in with her children from Montreal. Her children’s father, former CIA Director and current head of all government special operations Hammer Reese, was out on critical assignment and was not reachable.
Big Daddy Charles Sinatra, the patriarch of the Sinatra/Gabrini clans, who had been in New York on business, flew to DC to personally pick up Jackie, and then they flew to Philly too.
It was astounding to the driver. “I’ll say it again,” he said, “something’s up. And for whatever reason Mick the Tick is at theheart of it. And it ain’t no reunion. It ain’t nothing good. I’ll bet my life on that.”
“Why don’t you ask him?” the bodyguard said. “That’s one of their guys.”
When the driver saw who he was talking about, he didn’t hesitate. “Hey Drake!”
Drake was laughing with another SUV driver when he heard his name. When he saw who it was, he walked over. “What up?” he asked as the three men shook hands.
