“What!” Guido roared, slamming his massive fist onto his over-piled desk with enough force to cause cups and papers to jump six inches into the air. A mug crashed back to the surface, overturning and spilling a barrage of letter openers and quills.
Papers caught by the force of the blow took flight, some pirouetting into the corners of his small office. A vial of ink bounced onto the floor, black liquid splattering everywhere as the vial skipped along the surface.
Sergio and Vito, Guido’s senior enforcers, held their calm. They were used to the volatile mob boss’s angry outbursts and had learned through observation that it was best to stay quiet.
And despite their respectful size, both men, though almost as tall as Guido, were stick figures next to the massive mob boss.
Guido stood nearly seven feet tall. He was heavily muscled, with rounded shoulders and thick, powerful arms. His chest, like his shoulders, was an impenetrable wall of flesh that didn’t bother to slope to a narrow and athletic waist. Instead, Guido was broad throughout his form. Even his tree trunk sized legs gave the impression of medium growth oaks.
And at three hundred and twenty pounds, there wasn’t a tailor in town that could fit him with common clothing. So, besides being the largest man in town, he was also the best dressed. Everything he wore was tailor fit.
But despite his size, he wasn’t the most powerful man in Caltania. That honor went to a woman named Damora. And that’s what frustrated him these days.
“What do you mean, Nelse McCloud couldn’t pay his street tax today?” Guido asked, his bass voice rumbling like boulders down a mountain.
Though he had gone from volatile to calm in a second, the two enforcers knew the storm hadn’t passed. They shared a quick look. Vito nodded for Sergio to explain the situation. Of the pair, Sergio was the most articulate.
“He has been out of Green Dragon Beer since early last night. Seems his shipment didn’t come through,” Sergio explained.
A great deal of Nelse’s business depended on the popular beer from Caerdland. He’d priced his entrees and appetizers so low that he hardly skimmed a profit. The real money came from an exorbitant price for the exotic beer and the fact that getting patrons drunk resulted in higher spending.
Drunk patrons were more likely to use the sporting girls and enter games of chance, which, of course, Nelse had rigged at Guido’s urging.
“You’re sure of this?” Guido questioned, leaning back, his thick fingers interlaced over his broad chest.
Sergio and Vito nodded as one. “We checked his stock room. All he has is empty casks and packing crates.”
“I have an invoice from the dock master that states two-hundred kegs arrived to port the day before yesterday,” Guido said, his deep voice rumbling authority through the small office.
Vito and Sergio shared another look, this one laden with concern. Sergio urged Vito to speak, and Vito gave a tight-lipped shake of his head.
“Well,” Guido rumbled with impatience. “Where is Nelse’s beer?”
“From what we’ve discovered, Damora has raised her protection tax over the dock masters. They’re refusing to pay. So she has confiscated most of the trade goods for the city establishments. Only the crates marked for the castle are being allowed through.”
Guido’s eyes widened. It wasn’t just the missing beer. It was other textiles as well: wool from Caerdland, sand from across the Moon Sea to be used for glass blowing, exotic spices and herbs, fine silks. All of these trade goods were needed to keep businesses within the city profitable, and that made Guido profitable.
“What about exports?” Guido asked. “Any change in the way our artisans ship things out of the city?”
Vito and Sergio shook their heads as one and Guido assumed that things were still going out with only minor interruption. Of course, that would all stop as supplies became harder to find, held up as they might be in one of Damora’s warehouses.
He knew that was Damora’s angle. She would hold out until businesses complained. The harbor masters would be required to pay her higher protection taxes and the rest of the city would feel the pinch. She had everything to gain and nothing to lose. And that angered Guido.
But that would have to be a concern for another time. Guido decided it was best to keep things simple, to focus on just one task. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the disheveled desk, and took a deep breath. He looked very much like a bull snorting before the charge. “Where is Nelse’s beer now?”
Sergio and Vito shared a concerned look and then as one spoke, “We don’t know.”
***
Guido paused in front of Enrico Ragazzi’s Glass Emporium. The building, just a few blocks up from The Orphanage, was two stories, flat roofed and block walled. Despite its drab appearance, the building had a colorful flair. Its broad display case window was adorned with blown glass products, some of which were artistically twisted and tinted in bright blues, reds, and greens. There were utilitarian pieces there as well, some neatly sculpted.
Looking at the building, Guido gave a sigh of trepidation. He spent most of the morning speaking to the businesses’ owners within his territory. He needed to assess their amount of supplies and discuss Damora’s strong arming tactic, as well as enlist their help in defeating it. Thus far, he had been successful.
Guido saved Enrico for last. A third generation glass blower, operating out of his family’s home and business, Enrico was a hard-headed and independent man. Once he flat refused to pay Guido’s protection taxes. And Guido had subsequently hired a band of pirates to trash his building and store supplies.
Enrico knew, as did many others, that Guido initiated the attack. In retaliation, Enrico attempted to form a coalition of business owners to provide their own protection against the mob bosses. But most of the businessmen were just that, businessmen. They had no interest in outfitting protection forces, or even the first clue as to where to recruit the type of men needed. And what’s more, they didn’t want to. It was just easier to pay the mob boss. After all, they would have to pay someone either way.
Still not satisfied, Enrico incited the temporary interest of the Black Knight society. But their leader informed him they would be better off looking to the mob bosses for protection. The Black Knights, as well as the king’s military, were too strapped with international affairs to be involved in local disputes. And so an angry and thoroughly dejected Enrico gave up his quest, returning to work in his shop to pay his protection taxes.
Guido stepped onto the porch and gave the doorknob a determined twist, forcing it open. He’d saved Enrico for last, having recruited the loyalty of the other businesses under his protection first.
Enrico, a tall thin man with receding hair, looked up the instant the door swung open. He stood behind the counter, wiping down a new set of glasses.
Guido noted Enrico’s roll of the eyes and was aware of his angry muttering. He approached the counter.
“These are quite nice,” Guido replied, picking up one of the unadorned pieces. Their smooth sides were crystal blue, smoothly trimmed around the lip, and flat-bottomed so that they stood straight. “Very nice work,” Guido commented, setting the cup down.
Enrico scooped them up and placed them on a shelf behind the bar. “They’re not for you,” he said.
Guido had to force himself to take a calming breath. It was always this way with Enrico. And for that reason, he refrained from seeing the man, preferring to let Sergio and Vito collect the taxes. But then he wasn’t here for taxes, and he thought perhaps it might be worth noting to Enrico. “I haven’t come for taxes.”
Enrico turned and looked at him with an angry glint in his eyes. “No. Your henchmen were already here this morning. I’ve paid for mine, so we have no further business today.”
Enrico’s insolence fueled a sudden surge of anger in him. His fist tightened at his side and he had to remind himself, hitting Enrico would not garner the kind of cooperation he needed. Indeed, he thought, the man might then go against his request just to spite him.
He took another deep breath and decided he’d better spill it straight. Otherwise, this conversation would erupt into an argument. And nothing would be accomplished. “Damora is withholding goods and materials at the docks until the harbormasters pay her increased taxes. It’s putting a pinch on many businesses.”
“So you’re here to raise my taxes?” Enrico fumed.
“No. I’m here doing my job and ensuring your business is safe. And I need your cooperation to do that.”
Enrico gave a short bark of laugh. “You got your protection tax. That’s about all you deserve.” He turned away.
Guido reached across the counter, momentarily losing his temper. His monstrous hand enveloped the thin man’s shoulder. He spun Enrico around and quickly latched onto the front of his tunic, dragging him to the bar. Enrico’s eyes were as big as saucers. Pulled onto his toes, and off balance, he found he was only a few inches from Guido’s angry scowl.
“Where will you get the sand for your operation? How will your business survive without its life blood?” Guido growled into Enrico’s face.
“What are you talking about?” Enrico said, forcing the words through frightened lips.
“Damora is seizing all trade goods in return for higher protection taxes from the harbormasters. That includes the sand you need for glass,” Guido said, shoving Enrico back across the bar. The man rocked on his heals and straightened his dishevelled collar.
Enrico swallowed audibly and said, “Do you really think the shipments will not move past the docks? Eventually the harbormasters will pay the tax. They have to. Their business depends as much on the movement of goods as does ours.”
“The harbormasters are refusing to pay the tax because they have no coin to pay with. The ship captains don’t receive their share until the goods are distributed, and until then, the harbormasters are broke!”
“What about the ship captains?” Enrico countered. “Surely they will do something about this. They can’t wait in port while Damora strong arms the entire city.”
A strange light of understanding dawned in Enrico’s eyes as he made his final statement. And it satisfied Guido that the thin, irritating man understood the situation. “Most of the captains are freighters, businessmen like ourselves. They can’t afford to challenge Damora for fear of losing access to a trading port.”
Enrico nodded his understanding. “What do you propose to do?”
“I want you to promise not to export anything across the docks.”
“That will cut off half of my business,” Enrico remarked. But Guido noted it was without complaint.
“I’ve talked to the other businessmen under my protection. They’ve all agreed and signed this petition,” Guido said, producing a sheet of paper that he slid across the counter to Enrico.
The glass blower looked over the long list of names. All of them were men he knew. He looked up. “You want me to sign this?”
“I’d appreciate it. I want your word that you will export nothing until this is cleared up.”
“What are you planning to do?” Enrico asked. Guido was pleased to hear a note of cooperation in his voice.
“Withholding goods is the first step. It will stalemate Damora’s attempt. And in the meantime, I will deal with Damora directly.”
Enrico looked upon the enormous mob boss, calculating the odds of Guido versus Damora. Then he nodded and picked up a quill. Dipping it into an inkwell, he signed the petition.
* * *
By noon, Guido was back in his office, consorting with Vito and Sergio.
“The problem is that we don’t know where Damora has hidden the goods,” Sergio was saying just as a knock sounded against Guido’s office door.
Guido gestured for Vito to get to the door. Vito opened it, and Nicia stepped inside. “Is this a bad time?” The woman asked, looking around the room.
Guido shook his head from side to side. “No. I was thinking of sending for you anyway,” he replied and looked quizzically at her. “Is there something on your mind?”
Nicia nodded and explained her concerns about Alias. When Guido didn’t reply right away, she added. “It’s just that we have a finite number of rooms for boarding members. They’re all full, and we need them all to be profitable.”
Guido nodded and gestured for her to take a seat. Nicia pulled up the one remaining chair beside Sergio and Vito. “I understand. But we will not be profitable anyhow.”
Nicia looked curiously at the men. Guido launched into the telling of Damora’s new, strong arming tactic.
“So you’ve shut down exports,” Nicia stated. She nodded approvingly. “That should effectively stalemate the situation, at least until Damora gets wind of it and becomes impatient.”
Guido nodded. “The question is. What will be Damora’s next move?”
Nicia answered at once. “Damora thinks she holds all the cards. You’ve shown her you can play the same game. And as you’ve said, we’ve entered a stalemate with her. All she can do is wait it out.”
Vito and Sergio nodded along dumbly. The impression was that they understood and agreed. Guido knew the truth. The pair were loyal and powerful fighters, but they weren’t thinkers. And that’s why he valued Nicia. But there was one other thing bothering him, and he wanted to see how Nicia might react. “What if Damora lets a few goods through to the east side of the city?”
A sudden light of understanding flared in the devious woman’s eyes. “You mean, what if Damora supplies just those streets under the jurisdiction of Bruno Benelli?” She asked, referring to Caltania’s third and least powerful mob boss. Benelli controlled the first three streets on the east side of the city, including the market square.
Guido nodded grimly.
Nicia blew a low whistle. “That could ally Bruno against us.”
“That’s what I was thinking as well,” Guido replied. He noted with humor that Sergio and Vito continued to nod along, not speaking.
“We need to end this dispute,” Nicia added.
Guido bobbed his head in agreement. But there was one other thing he was considering. And that was the second reason he had wanted to speak with Nicia. He needed spies.
Nicia was among the best in the city. Second, perhaps only to Timo, who was a master of stealth. Nicia worked her way proficiently through the ranks of pickpockets. And eventually, through the ranks of enforcers, a completely unexpected career move for a woman on Caltania’s tough streets.
But Nicia had proven herself to be unequaled on the streets. And while Sergio and Vito might charge straight into a situation, bludgeoning with their sheer size, Nicia would take a more covert route. And Nicia held the kind of cold-hearted focus required to finish any task Guido set her to, even assassination.
“I’ll deal with Bruno.” Guido decided. “I think it best if we can get to him first. Recruit him to our cause.”
Nicia nodded along, sensing that Guido had something else in mind for her. “What do you need of me?”
“I want you to look around on the docks and see if you can learn where the goods are being stored.”
Nicia nodded.
He added, “Damora has a dangerous reputation. I don’t want you going alone. You’ll need someone skilled to watch your back.”
“What about Timo?” Nicia suggested.
Guido nodded. Timo was the obvious choice. Then he frowned. If this became a prolonged conflict, he would need every ounce of income he could muster, especially if it came to buying mercenaries. And from that point of view, Timo was just too valuable on the streets. Then an idea struck him. “What about Alias?”
Nicia’s eyes went wide with shock. Guido could see there was more than just a simple concern hiding behind that look.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Nicia replied, swallowing back her contempt.
“Why’s that?”
“I just don’t. I don’t trust her.”
Guido nodded, suddenly interested in this relationship. He leaned forward. “Why’s that?”
Nicia’s cheeks stained and she let her gaze drop from his. Guido thought he understood. Nicia and Timo had been an item before Alias showed up. Timo’s interest in the young woman had driven a wedge of jealousy through Nicia’s heart. And Guido suddenly wondered just how much of what Nicia said about Alias was true.
No matter, he decided, thinking it best to take an authoritative approach. “I hear Alias is good. Almost as good as Timo?”
“By all accounts, she is very skilled. Good at evasion and a tough fighter.”
Guido arched a surprised eyebrow. “Tell me about Alias being a good fighter.”
Nicia shrugged. “She single-handedly took out a pair of freelancers last night.”
“Unusual,” Guido replied. “I thought your pick pockets had strict instructions to notify Sergio and Vito of freelancers?”
“They do,” Nicia said, and Guido noted the difficulty with which she continued, further adding to his thought that jealousy was clouding her judgment. “She did it to save a merchant who had wandered into a darkened alley.”
Guido nodded, impressed. “She shows good judgment. Keeping the merchants safe is important to our business. She took out two of them?”
Nicia nodded, firming her jaw.
Guido seemed to think for a moment. He replied, “If this conflict turns into a full-blown street war, we are going to need every skilled body we can find. Alias sounds as if she might be too valuable to lose,” he said, giving Nicia a pointed look. The woman bobbed her head.
“I want you and Alias to work together. See if you can find where things are being kept on the docks. Try to get a count of Damora’s numbers and make an assessment of her tactics.”