Giuliani Family and the FBI
Thomas drove an officer's car to Castello di Vino, parking across from the old castle-like pub. He got out and ran across the street; avoiding speeding cars beeping their horns. He entered the poorly-lit Italian pub. The door slammed as Thomas entered, finding a man in a white suit with a glass of wine in his hand, sitting across the bartender.
Thomas walked slowly inspecting the place for possible escape paths. If he had to kill the man in the white suit, he was ready to do so. The bartender and the man in the suit turned around.
"Ciao! May I help you signore?”
"Thomas Miller, FBI!" Thomas pulled out his badge. "Are you Francesco Giuliani?" "Si, that's me, pal," Francesco said arrogantly.
"Mr. Federico, please allow us to use this room privately. We have some business to discuss.”
Francesco was finishing his third glass of wine when Federico dropped a towel on the counter and went to the wine cellar surprised the man knew his name. Thomas then sat down next to Francesco.
"How may I help you, Agent Miller?"
"I know about your little rendezvous to the Saltinotti Mansion earlier.” Francesco refilled his glass, emptying a bottle.
"Saltinotti Mansion? Doesn't ring a bell, pal.”
"Where were you this morning, Francesco? Let me guess, here drinking and the bartender is your alibi."
"You're excellent at your job, detective. I was here and Signore Federico will tell you the same.”
"So, I guess you haven't heard that Andrea Saltinotti was whacked."
"Who's that guy you’re referring to, again?"
"The head of the Saltinottis. He just finished a deal with the Lombardis to get your ports."
"This is the first time in my life I heard the names of those families, detective; I swear."
"Funny you should say that. But we have a witness." Francesco raised his eyebrows at his statement.
"Who might that be?"
"Should I tell you, they'll be dead like your paid staff, Terry and Jonathan."
"Who are these gentlemen you are mentioning?"
"Let's say we buried them not long ago. I was hoping you'd come to give your respects."
"I can't go to an unknown man's funeral, Mr. Miller."
"That's a shame because they wanted to confess about their ties with you." Thomas kept pushing but he had no solid proof. Francesco wasn't calling his bluff. "The witness we have placed you at the scene of the crime scene. The headline is already being printed and we have a match on the gun that killed Jonathan and Terry. Of course, Davide's execution is another matter." As Thomas was talking, Francesco's face turned pale. He screwed up ruining everything because of his quick temper.
"Am I under arrest, agent?" Francesco hands were sweaty and his guilt could be seen by his facial movements. "No,
you're not at the moment but that can change. I don't want just you. I want all of you. You, gangsters, have caused me so much trouble for years, that when I get all of you, you'll be begging for your lives back." Thomas Miller hoped for a confession; scaring Francesco until admitting his role. For the first time, he was the underdog. "I don't know what you're talking about, Agent Miller, these families, you speak of."
"This is your only chance, Francesco. Cut the crap, give me what I want and you'll get immunity."
"I can't offer you something I don't have."
"Then, you're fucked. I know enough about you, Giulianis and thanks to Andrea's death, God rest his soul if I can say that - he was a bad man. But I have enough to take you all down; you, the Lombardis, the Baldinottis, and the Saltinottis."
"What are you talking about, Agent?"
"You look tense, Francesco."
"I'm not."
"You're feeling the heat."
"I'm telling you, I'm not."
"The Lombardis sold all their souls to the Saltinottis. Will you?" Francesco's hands began shaking underneath the table like a person with Parkinson's disease. He reached up for his glass of wine.
"Do you know what this Lombardi deal means?"
"What does it mean, Agent?"
"They get nothing. Andrea's daughter in France will be in town to collect. Your businesses will close and New York will be in an all-out war."
Francesco remained silent as Agent Miller got up, placing his hat on his head. "I'll let you sleep on my offer, Francesco. Every hour that passes, I'll be closer to taking you down. Remember that. One fuck up will bring you all down."
"If I'm the man you say I am, why should I not kill you right
here and now?"
Thomas chuckled opening his shirt, revealing a wire. "Our little conversation. Of course, it might not be admissible in court, but if you kill me, everyone will know." Thomas buttoned up his shirt and walked off. Miller knew the cable was nothing but a prop, helping Thomas bluff his way out just in case things went sour. Meanwhile, Francesco sat quietly; his head was hurting because he couldn't think. Just when he thought he had recovered from the broken deal with Saltinottis, this bombshell hit him. The only thing Francesco that had gone right in the past few months was the Lombardi girl. "There is still time. Consider my offer, Francesco. Don't screw things up, again." The words of Agent Thomas Miller echoed again and again.
Federico came from the cellar walking quietly toward Francesco. He put his arm on Francesco's shoulder, squeezing it softly.
"Scusa Francesco, this is a big mess."
"I know, Federico. I fucked up."
"I'm afraid you did."
"What should I do now?"
"Tell your father right away. Maybe he has already heard."
"He'll kill me and he will be right in doing so."
"It's a mess for sure but look at it as a learning curve. First day on the job. Everyone has hiccups."
"No, not like I do. I need to talk to Jessica." Francesco got up putting on his coat. "Grazie, Federico." "My friend, don't worry. We're still on top." "That's my worry, Federico." Francesco left in anticipation of a dinner date with Jessica later that evening.