Mob Lawyer 4: A Legal Thriller Read online

  “I think my stomach needs a break before I add to it,” I chuckled.

  “Brilliant,” Anthony agreed. “We can go to the office for a while. Then we’ll have dessert.”

  Sal dipped his head and kissed Gulia on the cheek before he scooted his chair back and slowly made his way around the table. He moved like a much older man now, and I realized I actually had no idea how old he was. He had to be in his fifties, but he hadn’t acted like it when we first met. But it was clear the shooting had taken its toll on his body, and he leaned on Anthony as the father-son duo walked into the house.

  Liz and I trailed slowly after them all the way to the second floor office, and I closed the door behind us as we entered the heart of the Febbo empire. There was an awkward pause as Anthony nearly sat in the chair, but he stopped himself and offered it to his father. Then he leaned against the windowsill while Liz and I took the chairs in front of the desk.

  Something about the way Sal sat back in his chair and took deep breaths had me on the edge of my seat. We’d become so calm and comfortable during dinner, I hadn’t thought about what the Mafia boss would want to say once he’d pulled us away from the rest of the family.

  Sal leaned forward and templed his fingers as he watched us with a wary expression. He hadn’t been too thrilled when Anthony had fired his longtime family attorney and hired me, and I wondered if I still hadn’t impressed him enough, despite all the work I’d done for his business associates.

  “Alright, Pop, spit it out before you give the guy a coronary,” Anthony finally said.

  I agreed completely and tried to look calm as I awaited his father’s response.

  “I was just wondering what he can do that Landis can’t,” Sal replied with a furrowed brow. “He obviously doesn’t have the years of experience. And he’s too much of a pretty boy to have a lot of brains. So, how do you have the same knowledge to compete with the guy I met before you were even born?”

  Landis was the family attorney before I’d entered the picture, and he was the kind of slimeball I’d decided long ago not to become. He was a skilled attorney, and his loyalty to Sal would likely go with him to his grave, which was probably why Sal thought so highly of him. I wasn’t sure how long he’d been a lawyer for the Febbos, but he wasn’t anyone I’d put my own trust in. He’d already tried his own tactics to get rid of me and bump Anthony out of the Febbo family business, but I didn’t think now was the time to dog on Landis. I had to prove my own worth.

  “I don’t,” I agreed and nodded. “But that means I also don’t have years of doing things a certain way. I’m adaptable.”

  “Like kicking a dirty cop’s ass in an alley,” Anthony added as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Landis couldn’t do that.”

  “You fought a cop?” Sal looked at me with wide eyes. “That doesn’t seem very smart, Counselor. I thought part of your job was keeping yourself and my family out of trouble. How does that work if you fight law enforcement?”

  “He came after me,” I pointed out. “I defended myself.”

  “And knocked him out on a dumpster,” my client laughed. “Epic.”

  “I hear you also have federal agents on your tail,” his father continued as though Anthony hadn’t spoken. “Are you going to fight them as well?”

  “I only fight when I need to,” I answered honestly. “I learned that long before I went to law school. Besides, they’re not even looking at you or Anthony. It’s a city corruption investigation, which I didn’t help them with.”

  “He didn’t,” Liz confirmed. “They showed up again yesterday.”

  Thank God for that woman. I knew she’d have my back.

  “Cazzo!” Sal cursed. “They are relentless, no?”

  “It seems that way,” I agreed. “We suspect they want some information they think I have, so they can get a subpoena for more. If I report the assault by Sergeant Nelson, they might be able to use that to dig deeper into who’s got him on their payroll.”

  “Do you think you should tell them?” He eyed me carefully as he waited for my response.

  “I think we should consider giving them something,” I said after a momentary pause. “Maybe not that, if you don’t like it, but they’re going to be up our asses until they get something they can use. If we give them a carrot, maybe they’ll chase that instead of us.”

  “You say ‘us’ as though you’re in the family,” he murmured. “Why are you looking out for the Febbos?”

  “It’s my job, sir,” I replied. “Not only do I take my responsibilities seriously, but I’m finally doing something I enjoy with my life. I won’t risk that to help the feds do their own job.”

  “I need to know what all you know,” Sal replied in a low voice. “Why do they think you know something important?”

  I looked at Anthony, and he nodded, so I relayed everything about the election, Alessia Pizzano, and her opponent Chatel, as well as the Mayor and Chief Flores. I told Sal about the former Brooklyn DA, our suspicions, and subsequent discovery about Chatel’s business with the Serbs, and how they all seemed to answer to the Mayor, who also had the Chief in his back pocket if he couldn’t convince someone to do what he wanted.

  “But we haven’t found anything solid on the Mayor just yet,” I finished.

  I swore I heard a cricket chirp as Sal stared at me with his mouth slightly open before he shook his head.

  “And they think you got all your information legally before your friend leaked it to the press?” he asked incredulously.

  “I have no idea.” I shrugged and looked him in the eyes. “But I wouldn’t risk Anthony’s safety to figure it out. I just told them I can’t help them.”

  “Aren’t you required to report crimes?” Sal arched an eyebrow.

  “Not exactly,” I answered. “Besides, I don’t know if the information was gathered illegally since it was delivered to me anonymously.”

  Sal paused for a moment before he burst into a hearty laugh, and Anthony soon joined him. Even Liz stifled a giggle at my expense, and I felt my shoulders loosen as some of the tension left the room. Sal was no longer looking at me as though he wanted to crack my kneecaps, so I’d take that as a move in the right direction.

  “Alright, so you’re not as stupid as I first thought you were, Morgan,” the Febbo patriarch declared as he wiped away a tear. “I’ll give you that.”

  “Thank you?” I wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a compliment, but it seemed like the best response.

  “What about my attempted killer?” Sal asked in a more serious tone. “Did they investigate anyone?”

  “No one that the cops are sharing with us,” Anthony muttered. “I get the feeling you aren’t high on their priority list.”

  “What about yours?” his father retorted. “You haven’t found who it was yet?”

  “I have a few ideas,” Anthony insisted. “There are a few Serbian names on my list. It’s just been hard to look into anything with the cops breathing down our necks, and a lot of names are already crossed out from the ambush.”

  “Then we continue with the original plan,” Sal decided.

  Oh, shit.

  Anthony’s face turned beet red as he stared at his father. I’d been trying to figure out Sal’s next move since Gulia announced his impending return, and it seemed it would be to keep moving the Febbo family business into legitimate companies. I hadn’t been sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t for Sal to be the one wanting to get the family out of the mob life.

  “What?” My client stood straight up and clenched his fists at his side. “You want to just let the bastard who did this to you walk free?”

  “I don’t think we have much choice,” his father pointed out. “If you don’t know who it is, and our guys are getting picked up left and right, maybe it’s a sign.”

  “A sign we’re looking in the right direction,” Anthony argued. “We can’t give up on this. Those Serbian bastards would get exactly what they want.”

  “I n
ever wanted this for you, ragazzo,” Sal sighed. “Part of me wants to fight back, but the other part of me is more worried about you. I can’t let my pride get you involved in this life.”

  “I’m already involved.” Anthony closed the gap to his father’s desk and leaned in close. “You can’t get me out now, Papa.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying,” Sal insisted. “Besides, you aren’t even a made man.”

  I arched an eyebrow at the reference, but I wasn’t quite sure what it meant for someone to be a made man. I felt like Anthony had done a lot in running the family business while Sal was in the hospital, so it seemed odd there was something he hadn’t done to meet his father’s expectations.

  The phrase seemed to mean something to Anthony who took a step back with a look of shock on his face. “You never said I had to--”

  “Look,” Sal cut him off and glanced over at Liz and me. “We can discuss this later.”

  “No, I want to talk about it now,” Anthony grunted. “I trust Hunter, and he’s been nothing but helpful when it comes to keeping the family afloat, even with all the crazy shit going on, so you can be honest and tell me what you want.”

  “I want to know how you think you can run the family when you haven’t even proven yourself,” his father scoffed. “I was a made man when I was ten years younger than you. Your nonnino had me ready for the job when I was barely old enough to smoke a cigarette!”

  I looked over at Liz who had made it a point to study the rips in her jeans without risking a glance at the two men. I worried where this conversation would lead, but it was like a train barreling down the tracks at this point. There was no chance at stopping the Febbos.

  “I’ve proven myself to be a smart businessman,” Anthony shot back. “I don’t have to go around killing everyone who pisses me off to get some respect!”

  Oh, shit.

  Apparently, that was related to being a “made man.” And the sentiment sent Sal into a tailspin.

  “You’ll have no respect from the capos until you prove you’re in this life for real!” Sal bellowed. “They know I would do whatever I had to for the family, but they obviously can’t say the same for you.”

  “And who can they say that about, eh?” his son shot back. “Jimmy Dee? Richie? Come on!”

  “At least those two listened to me when my own son was off brewing some hippie beer!” his father thundered. “I taught them the way I was taught!”

  “Madre de Dio, I can’t be exactly like you!” Anthony raged as he towered over his father. “You’ve made yourself known in this city, and that goes for the cops, too! You don’t think they watch me?”

  “Your fancy new attorney said they’re watching the dirty cops,” Sal sneered. “I’d say you could handle your business if you really wanted to.”

  “Then what business do you want me to handle, huh?” His son’s voice rose a full octave as his chest heaved up and down.

  “I think the real question is what business can you handle.” Sal stared at Anthony with a look that dared his son to question him.

  “All of it,” Anthony replied darkly.

  I clenched my jaw as I fought to keep my mouth shut. I didn’t need to hear my client discussing how he planned to become a made man, and I had no idea what to do about it. Neither of them had outright said there was someone Anthony needed or wanted to kill, nor had they made any specific threats or plans of action. It was all a hypothetical discussion, but it made me uneasy.

  If Anthony was planning to completely take over his father’s role, it seemed clear this was the way Sal wanted him to do it. I couldn’t fathom a parent’s desire for their child to kill someone, but I hadn’t exactly grown up with an in-depth knowledge of the mob life or tight-knit father-son relationships.

  Hell, I wasn’t even close enough with my dad to picture myself in a similar situation. I hadn’t really cared if I made him happy because he didn’t seem to care much what I did as long as it didn’t cost him money. I had no idea what I’d do if he told me I needed to kill someone to prove I was ready for something.

  Yet here we were as Anthony stood in that exact position, while Liz and I sat idly by and pretended we were clueless. Until they made some kind of plan or threat, I had no reason to worry. It seemed Anthony wasn’t necessarily on board with killing someone, but he was becoming more and more desperate to prove to his father that he was worth handing down the family business to. I didn’t understand how it wasn’t enough for Sal that Anthony had been doing everything in his father’s absence even with the cops breathing down his neck. Sal had moved from getting Anthony out of the life to taking a life so he could stay in the business so quickly it made my head spin, but Anthony was right there with him.

  Just a year ago, he was so determined to avoid his family that he’d taken on his mother’s maiden name to prevent anyone from connecting the dots. If he decided to take his father’s advice, I had a feeling even the name situation would change.

  “How do I know that?” Sal asked after a long pause.

  “Because I’ve been doing it,” Anthony replied. “I’ve been handling the capos and keeping their people out of jail. I’ve been bringing in money and taking care of debts. Yeah, a few people questioned me at first, but I set them straight.”

  “Not the way I always did,” Sal mused before he sighed. “The old me would tell you exactly what you need to do to be the same as me, but I see who you are now. You aren’t me, Tony. I have to accept that.”

  “Yes, you do,” Anthony agreed. “And I won’t change who I am, but I’m still your son. I can do what I need to, even if it’s not what you would do.”

  “But if you needed to do what I would do, could you?” Sal pressed.

  The hypotheticals started to make my head spin, but Anthony nodded his head.

  “If I had to, yeah,” he agreed.

  “Then how do we make sure you have the chance to make your own choice?” Sal wondered. “You have to get the Serbians off your back, or they’ll try to go after you, too.”

  “If I could just jump in here,” I said carefully. “I have an idea about that.”

  Both the Febbos and Liz turned to look at me in surprise. I had waited for an opening to suggest something less lethal to get to the bottom of the Febbos’ problem, and it seemed like now was the only opportunity I would get.

  “Well, what is it?” Sal asked with obvious impatience.

  “We found the Serbian shell company that put together the security team who went after Anthony,” I explained. “It’s called Gryffon.”

  “The name rings a bell,” Sal murmured. “Go on.”

  “The ownership papers were signed by a guy named Robert Smithe, but he bailed out to Switzerland already,” I continued. “Someone has to still be running the company stateside, though.”

  “It’s a board,” Liz answered as she swiped the screen of her phone. “Their website says their board of directors make all decisions regarding the company’s development and business.”

  “Can I see that?” Anthony asked and looked at her phone. “Sneaky bastards are trying to hide behind twelve names now that Smithe is gone. I wish we would’ve caught him before he left the country.”

  “I don’t know what he would have known,” I said with a frown. “He was basically just a name for the paperwork. Everything I read said he was just an old college buddy of Chatel’s who got paid to sign the dotted line.”

  “You don’t think he actually knows anything?” Sal wondered.

  “No.” I shook my head. “I think he’s just a patsy. They needed someone who they could trust long enough to sign the papers, take his money, and leave the country. He up and left before anyone was the wiser, which is probably exactly what he was told to do.”

  “Ah, a segaiolo,” he muttered. “Just following orders. How much did they pay him?”

  “A couple million,” I replied. “Although if it’s anything like Chatel’s account, the payments will keep coming as long as he keep
s his mouth shut about who talked him into signing, but my guess is the only answer we’d get is Chatel, which we already know anyway.”

  “So, he’s a dead end,” Anthony agreed. “What about this guy?”

  He pointed to a dark-haired man in an expensive suit who stood behind a podium in the picture. He had a wide, expensive-looking smile that gave me the creeps, but that wasn’t the only thing I noticed as I looked over the pictures of him with the other members of the Gryffon board.

  “It says his name is Vlado Galic,” I read from the caption. “He appears to be the board’s spokesman.”

  “So, he’s the mouthpiece?” Sal asked. “That doesn’t mean much.”

  “Or maybe it does,” I murmured as I swiped through a few more pictures. “He may be the one making the announcements, but he also could be making all the decisions. What do you notice here?”

  I flipped the phone around to show the Febbos, and the two stared at the picture intently. It was a shot of the entire board of directors for the Gryffon company, but an important detail stood out.

  “He’s the only Serbian,” Anthony exhaled. “You’ve got an eye for detail, Hunter.”

  “I try to notice someone sticking out on a jury,” I said and shrugged. “No difference here. He stands out.”

  “That he does,” Sal agreed. “Now, what does that mean for us?”

  “It means he’s the only one we can say is definitely tied to the other Serbians we’ve dealt with,” Anthony said and rubbed his chin. “So, he would likely know what else their company has going on behind the scenes.”

  “So, he’s the target?” his father pressed.

  Oh, no. My plan to find a way out of the “made man” scenario was quickly disappearing as the father and son looked at each other with knowing eyes.

  “He’s the target,” Anthony confirmed.

  Chapter 7

  “Leave us,” Sal ordered with a harsh stare at Liz and me.

  This time, Anthony didn’t argue.

  Without a word, we rose from our chairs and hurried out into the hallway. I shut the door and guided Liz toward the stairs. My mind raced with what to do now that I’d basically handed them a target on a silver platter. My plan to keep Anthony looking at legal options to handle his situation had completely backfired, and it was all my fault.