Page 112 of The Killer Cupcake
"My... what?"
"Your recruitment quotas. The Army must be pushing hard with this situation in Indochina."
Donovan's confusion deepened. "Yes, sir. They want volunteers. Advisors especially. It’s not a matter of war. Just need ground coverage. But what does that have to do with?—"
"Everything." Carmelo said. “You said there will be no war?”
“I don’t think so. There is no talk of war,” he said.
“Good. Good.” Carmelo looked at Slim and nodded. "You're going to have a visitor soon. A young man named Matteo Ricci. Strong, capable, exactly what Uncle Sam is looking for."
"Your brother? The Butcher?”
"My brother." The words carried weight. "You're going to give him your best pitch. Expedite his paperwork. Ensure he ships out for basic training within forty-eight hours. All paperwork on my end will be done.”
"Mr. Ricci, I don't understand?—"
Slim stepped forward, looming. "You don't need to understand. You need to comply."
"In exchange," Carmelo continued as if Slim hadn't spoken, "your debt disappears. Permanently. You'll also receive a bonus—let's say one thousand—for your exceptional patriotic service."
Donovan's face cycled through confusion, hope, and fear. "Just... recruit your brother?"
"Enthusiastically. Efficiently. Effectively. Quietly." Carmelo stood. "He may be reluctant. You'll overcome that reluctance with tales of duty, honor, and service. You'll process him so fast he won't have time for second thoughts."
"And if I don't?" Donovan asked.
Carmelo's smile was answer enough. "You're a smart man, Patrick. Smart men recognize opportunities for redemption when they're offered." He moved to the door, pausing. "Oh, and Patrick? If anyone asks, this was all Matteo's idea. His patriotic choice. You simply facilitated a young man's desire to serve his country."
"Yes, sir. Of course."
"Slim will provide you with the necessary background materials. Study them. Be convincing." Carmelo's eyes were chips of black ice. "My brother's life depends on your performance. Yours does too."
They left Donovan shaking in his kitchen. In the car, Slim glanced at his boss.
"You think it'll work?" Slim asked.
"It has to." Carmelo stared out at the Brooklyn streets. "The alternative is I shoot my father. And this time I don’t miss."
"And when Matteo finds out it was really Cosimo that caused all this?”
"He'll be alive to hate me and dear dad. That's all that matters."
They drove back to Manhattan in silence; each lost in thoughts of the machinery they'd just set in motion. Somewhere in Harlem, Matteo Ricci was sleeping beside Debbie, unaware that his brother was rewriting his fate with invisible ink.
Carmelo's hands remained steady on the wheel, but Slim noticed the white-knuckle grip, the only sign of the storm raging beneath that icy control. Even wolves, it seemed, could love their pack.
CHAPTER 43
THE MOUSE TRAP
The Red Hook warehouse reeked of decades - stale motor oil, oxidized metal, and the faint tang of brine seeping through cracked concrete. Matteo checked his watch for the third time in seven minutes. 2:47 AM. Tommy Mangano was late again. The Mangano prince operated on his own arrogant timetable, even for meetings that could redraw New York's underworld map.
Their uneasy alliance balanced on a knife's edge. Tommy needed Matteo's inside knowledge to erode Ricci’s control over Brooklyn's docks. Matteo needed Mangano’s muscle to protect Debbie while she remained in Brooklyn until he could move them to Vegas. Something in his father’s eyes alarmed him. He felt the need to be extra careful. Two traitors meeting in shadows, their families none the wiser.
The rusted door groaned. Tommy entered from the darkness, his crocodile smile gleaming. "Ricci. Was starting to think you'd developed common sense and run."
"Still here," Matteo countered, his right hand drifting toward his .38. Some instincts never faded.
