Vito was holed up in his hotel room in Seattle; waiting to hear word from Albert. Not knowing that his technocrat was pinched while snooping around fort Wolffe. Getting antsy at having to wait for news; the head of the Gamboni crime family gets up to leave the hotel room. Spying a bar down the street the restless man heads over to see if he could get a drink to calm his nerves.
Entering the dingy establishment; Vito is confronted of a smell he is all too familiar with, blood and bile. Sitting at a stool at the bar; Vito is eyed by the suspicious looking bar tender. Vito seeing the man in a white dingy tank top with stains of questionable origins, and plenty of tattoos on the man’s arms; most of the tattoos were of prison quality, which implied to Vito that this man did quite a bit of time behind bars.
“Beer with a whiskey chaser;” Vito requests. Eyeing the man as he pours from the tap a local beer and a shot of cheap bourbon whiskey; Vito accepts the drinks he asked for. Slamming the shot of whiskey back; Vito was about to drink the beer when the bartender stops him.
“Never seen you around here before; what’s your business here?”
“My business is of no concern to you,” Vito answering while putting his hand gun on the bar; “sufficed to say, I’m only visiting to collect a lost and wayward family that owes me a debt.”
The bartender seeing the gun Vito placed on the bar, nods as he lets go; allowing Vito to drink his beer in peace.
“You planning on staying long,” The bartender speaking; all the while keeping a hand on the sawed off shotgun he has placed under the counter.
“Long enough to finish my business,” Vito answers; “what business it is for you?”
“I’m trying to figure out if you are going to be trouble for my establishment,” the bartender showing Vito his shotgun.
Vito smiles; “you always greet your patrons with your version of shotgun diplomacy?”
“Only to the new faces,” the bartender responds.
“The name is Vito Gamboni,” Vito finishing his beer; “you may have heard of me. I’m rather big in New York. So put your noise maker away; lest you want to find out why I’m feared in Brooklyn.”
“You’re a long way from Brooklyn Vito,” the bartender staring at the man; “the whiskey and beer is seven fifty. If you want another it’s an even fifteen. And yeah I know of you, the fact I haven’t kicked your ass out, means I’m also no fan of the police.”
“And here I thought I was going to have to shoot you,” Vito smiling; “pour me another. But make sure the whiskey is Irish and none of the bourbon swill.”
*****
Marcus was running through the fields; after seeing agent Baoman before the fed saw him; the elder son of Vito was able to duck away from the crowd of tourist and slip away into an employee section of the park. Being spotted by a ranger; Marcus swore, pulling out is gun which had a silencer on it, Marcus shoots the man dead. Not wanting to be around if someone else comes by; Marcus manages to stumble across the all-terrain vehicle the ranger was driving a few minutes ago. Seeing the keys still in the ignition; Marcus gets in and drives off.
Frantically trying to call Albert; unaware the his younger brother was recently capture and that his laptop was the reason why agent Baoman found him quickly. Not getting a response; Marcus just swears as he gives up getting ahold of the technocrat as he gets onto a road he hopes will lead him back to Seattle.
“Got to ditch this vehicle soon,” Marcus worries to himself; “lets hope I can find a replacement to commandeer soon. I have a feeling this ranger jeep has low-jack on it.”
******
Albert Gamboni was in an interrogation room in the military base he was arrested in. The MP trying to get him to confess was feeling frustrated; while the man in front of him was a known mob associate, his commanding officer did order him to treat him like a normal suspect. Not an enemy combatant; while the MP had his orders, he was able to bend them by alluding to the Gamboni that he would soon be sent to Guantanamo if he didn’t talk. That tactic didn’t last long as the savvy made man just demanded his lawyer.