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My wife falls asleep in my arms. Feels nice.
Chapter Eleven
What enables the wise sovereign and the good general to strike and conquer, and achieve things beyond the reach of ordinary men, is foreknowledge.
? Sun Tzu, The Art of War
Bobby
Iam sitting my office going over spreadsheets on the Fielding real estate holdings. Dominick D’Amato texts me he has a package for me in the basement of the club.
I take out my untraceable burner phone and text “The Surgeon.” I tell him to meet me at the club at 8:00 p.m.
The bouncer at the door of “On All Fours” steps aside to let me in. Frankie and Gino are right behind me. The music is exceptionally loud tonight. We walk through the club. Women are everywhere in various stages of undress – either dancing or serving drinks. We enter the Dominick’s office without knocking. Dominick has a naked female stripper on his lap. He pushes her off when we walk in. He zips his pants. She grabs her clothes and scurries out. Dominick does not even look embarrassed. Such a scumbag.
The dark, windowless office is still a disorganized mess – just like the last time I was here. The dated beige carpet is covered with stains that I don’t want to think about. A filthy, beat-up stiped beige couch circa 1980’s is pushed against one wall. I will never sit on that couch. The small office reeks of sex.What does Dom do all day?
“Where is the Russian?” I ask.
Dom smooths down his greasy combover.
“Hi Boss, he is in the basement tied to a chair. The Surgeon is waiting for you. That guy gives me the creeps.”
I ignore Dom’s comment. Gino, Frankie, and I head for the basement. The door to the basement is right next to Dominick’s office.
Russian Bratva soldiers are notoriously hard to break. I am going to conduct the questioning and torturing myself with the help of my friend and enforcer – Reno, also known as “The Surgeon”.
We climb down the metal staircase into the dark basement. The club’s basement is a typical Chicago basement – no windows, dark, cold, damp, with concrete walls and floor. The fluorescent lights in the ceiling are turned on. One is buzzing and flickering ready to burn out. A cell with bars stands in one corner where we keep prisoners. The basement is soundproofed. Prisoners can scream as loud as they like; nobody will hear them.
The Bratva soldier is bound to a metal chair bolted to the cement floor. The Russian is a big, muscular man in his forties. Completely naked. Balding. His wrists are zip-tied to the arms of the chair. Ankles zip-tied to the legs of the chair. A wide strip of silver duct tape covers his mouth. He does not look at me.
I have a bad feeling this is going to take all fucking night.
Frankie and Gino sit down in a couple of folding chairs in a corner of the basement. Reno stands over the bound Russian soldier. As usual, Reno does not greet any of us. He is not one for small talk. He is cool, calm, and collected. He wears a black zippered hoodie, black jeans, and black running shoes. His black leather tool bag sits on the floor near his feet.
I take off my suitcoat and tie and hand them to one of my bodyguards. I do not want to get blood on my Armani suit. I roll up my sleeves. I slip my Rolex watch in the front pocket of my dress pants.
I walk over to the Russian. My plan is to beat the bastard until he answers my questions. If he does not, we will resort to more barbaric and bloody torture methods.
My enforcer and I stand over the Russian. Reno rips the duct tape off of his mouth. This is why I like Reno so much – he knows what to do without me having to ask him. If only more people in my life were like this!
“Do you know who I am?” I ask the Russian soldier.
“Yes, Bobby fucking Vincenzio! Capo of the Chicago Outfit.” He answers with a heavy Russian accent.
The Russian spits on the floor at my feet. Pig.
Reno slaps him across the face and calmly says, “show some respect, asshole.”
The surgeon is one cold fucker. Never smiles. Never raises his voice. Never nervous.
“Fuck you.”
Reno punches him the nose. I hear a crunch. His nose is broken. Blood. Reno takes a package of wet wipe from the pocket of his hoodie. He opens it and wipes the blood off his hands. Tonight, is going to be bloody.
The Russian’s name is Boris. He is a respected high-ranking soldier in the Antonovich brothers’ organization. Dominick’s men abducted him while he was leaving Jasmine’s apartment. Boris is not a very smart guy. His weakness is sex. He likes American whores – young and small. According to Jasmine, he likes bondage and rough sex. He makes her act out his rape fantasies. We will torture Boris for information and then kill him. The world will be a better place without this sick fuck.
“We need some information.”
