Rain bombarded the city of Chicago. It's icy drops put the city in a state of chill, the moon watching them fall like a dedicated soldier on guard duty. Francisco drove slowly through the quiet neighborhood, looking for a house with the number 362. In the back he had an associate that was to prove his loyalty to the family tonight. It was a nice neighborhood, big lawns and intricate designs on the front doors, columns of stone on either side. Very fancy. Francisco slowed to a stop in front of one particularly large house, it even had a small pond in the front. Francisco parked the car and killed the engine, he peered through the passenger window. Only one light was on in the whole house, the den. The window peering in was layered with elaborate designs that distorted the view inside, but Francisco could tell there was at least 3 men in there, possibly more. Among those men was the former owner of a brewery just outside of town, who used to work for the family. But he sold that brewery to a gang of Polish thugs with some more change in there pocket than expected. He basically told the family to take a hike. The man in the back of Francisco's car was his business partner. He was to be killed as well, but Francisco gave him another chance. The freezing rain assaulted the windshield, Francisco turned to the man behind him and handed him a revolver. "All you gotta do is kill him. I'll take care of everything else." The man took the revolver reluctantly, he looked like he was about to be sick. Francisco reached over to the passenger seat and picked up a Tommy Gun. He slapped a magazine into the gun and pondered for a moment whether he should take a second one, but decided against it. One would be enough.

Francisco stepped out of the car and was immediately soaked by the fusillade of water pouring from the sky. He shivered and put his hat on, at least that kept the rain out of his face. He turned around towards the house, flipped the safety off, and took aim. He saw one of the figures in the house turn their heads towards the window. He pulled the trigger. RATATATATATATATATATAT-RATTATATATATTAATAATTTAT an onslaught of bullets shattered the window, and tore through the contents within. A light broke and the den went dark, and the only sound was the rain. Francisco wasn't worried about the police, Nicolai had paid them to stay out of this part of town for tonight. He smacked the roof of the car and proceeded up the lawn. He came up to the window and peered through the shattered glass teeth. 2 men lay on the carpet, glass and blood mixed. Their bodies were riddled with bullet holes, and Francisco wondered how much ammo he had used. He popped the magazine and looked. About half, he put the magazine back in and stepped into the room. The furniture was shredded to bits, fluff and cloth lay strewn about the room. Several painting and pictures had fell and broke, the mirror on the back wall was half shattered. He heard his associate come up behind him and gasp at the carnage that was this once lovely room. Francisco turned to him and used his gun to beckon him further into the home. He had to be the one to kill his former partner. The man visibly swallowed and led the way, gun outstretched. He didn't get 20 feet into the house when he turned the corner and yelped, discharging a bullet into the wall. Francisco came to his side and saw their man laying against the hallway wall, blood smeared across it as he had made his way down. He turned his head towards his attackers and said "Fuck You." Francisco looked expectantly at his associate, who seemed to be glued to the floor. Francisco nudged him with his elbow and he jumped. When he looked at him, Francisco said quietly "You know what to do."

The man licked his lips nervously and proceeded towards the bloody figure. The downed traitor's eyes followed his every movement, until the barrel of the revolver was pointed between them. The man adjusted his grip, whimpered and closed his eyes while quickly pulling the trigger at the same time. BANG the man's body jolted as his former partner shot him. Francisco clapped his shoulder and said "Good work, I know it must've been hard. Go wait for me in the car, I'll only be a moment." His associate nodded numbly and walked past him. Francisco rested his gun on his shoulder and crouched down and dug through the dead man's trouser pockets. He pulled out a slightly crumpled envelope and tucked into his coat pocket. He then turned and exited out the window.

Captain Mark Evens navigated his converted fishing schooner, The Canadian Star, from the hidden cove just a mile or two south of Sault Ste Marie Canada, once out into the open waters, he turned the wheel over and pointed the bow of the boat in the direction of the Chicago Port. In the wake of a storm that had blown through the area just a few days before, the Lakes was now relatively calm, which he was thankful for, since his holds and every other available space were near to overloaded with contraband and would of made for a rough voyage home had the lakes been anything other then calm. Captain Evens took a final bearing check from the compass, looked out the windows of the wheelhouse to make sure his crew had lashed and tied down what needed to be, then sat back and lit a smoke, now that they were underway, he was now able to return his attention to the stranger who had entered his wheelhouse prior to the last of the contraband being brought aboard.

Antonino had purposely waited for the last of the crates to be dropped down into the belly of the Schooner before opening the door to the wheelhouse and walking in, the look on the Captains face as he turned to see who had walked in without permission was one of annoyance, Antonino raised a hand and with a stern look stopped the uttering of expletives that was on the tip of the Captains tongue, with a solemn and simple pronouncement," I work for Marcello Sapienti". Though the lights of the wheelhouse were dim, Antonino could almost see the Captains face turn a pasty white but at least he had sense enough to keep his mouth shut and return to his work, as Antonino moved to a chair and sat down, remaining silent the whole time the Captain was getting his boat underway.

Antonino reached into the inside breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a pack of Lucky Strikes and lit a cigarette shortly after the Captain sat back and lit up one of his own. He could see by the continued silence, now that the Captain had a chance to sit back and relax and return his attention to his unannounced guest, Antonino could see the Captain was slowly becoming increasingly unnerved and fidgetty by his presence and lack of sound as they both sat and smoked in silence. Antonino put out his cigarette then cleared his throat and watched with a slight smirk as the Boat Captain nearly jump out of his skin, now hat he had the mans attention, Antonio's tone of voice was low and matter-of-fact,

"Captain Evens, call your second in charge up here if you would please, I'll explain everything once he arrives", though the Captain gave him a puzzled look, Antonino was content to sit back without further explanation and watched as the Captain stuck his head out the door and called for one of the deckhands to go fetch Duncan, after a few moments the man called Duncan walked in and stood near his Captain, looking between the both of them with curiosity. Antonino unbuttoned his jacket then crossed his legs, then reached up and tilted his hat up on his forehead giving off the appearance that this was going to be a casual conversation,

"Captain Evens...",, Antonino began, his voice mimicking his casual appearance, "Don Sapienti has been looking over last months books and compared them to your last manifest...there seems to have be a slight discrepancy between what was shipped from our suppliers in Canada and what was received by our people in Chicago, it goes without saying Don Sapienti was not happy...", as the color again drained from the Captains face, his features contorted in a growing look of panic and Antonio's tone of voice slowly deepened with menace as he continued to layout the Captains stupidity,

"By Don Sapienti account, he figures you stole roughly one crate for every five crates of Bourbon shipped, one crate of Scotch stolen for every eight crates shipped and there's also three fresh young ladies not accounted for from the last shipment, tell me Captain, if I were to look down in the crews quarters, would I find them, or have they done had their way with the girls and tossed them overboard?" Antonino calmly held the Captains gaze and watched as the man did his best to muster up some bravado ,"So what if you got proof, I bring in more money per shipment then any other boat out here on Sapienti payroll, so I took a few crates, so what, its not like the other Captains don't do it, what you gonna do?,fire me?, I put the word out and there wont be a Captain one that will sail for Sapienti", replied the Captain with a growing tone of arrogance and swagger.

Antonino noted the disrespect in the Captains tone of voice and not using the title of Don, and he about shot him there and then, but he forced himself to control his temper, but his tone and demeanor changed within a blink of an eye, his features turned ice cold and the tone of his voice dropped murderously deep and reverberated off the walls, even rattling a few of the loose window panes ,"You signed an agreement with DON Sapienti, and no where in that agreement did it state it was ok to help yourself to HIS property...your not going to be fired Captain Evens...your going to be retired, consider what you stole as severance pay, not that its going to be of any use to you", Antonio's lefthand moved like a flash of lightening and pulled the Colt.45 from the shoulder holster, the look of shock still registered on the Captains face as two .45 slugs slammed into his chest, knocking him backwards into the side windows of the wheelhouse then sliding down the wall to the floor in a shower of glass.

Antonino turn his attention to Duncan even before the light faded from the Captain's now saucer sized eyes, Duncan looked on the verge of pissing his pants, but sighed with relief as Antonino re-holstered the colt and spoke again, his voice once again casual, "Congradulations on your promotion Captain Duncan, Don Sapienti sends you his best regards and hopes this becomes a prosperous arrangement for you as well as himself....fuck up like evens did, and I'll be calling on you, understand?, now where's the guest quarters, I could use a nap", Antonino lit another cigarette and got to his feet, walked to the door, but stopped short of exiting, then turned back to the new Captain, "Toss that piece of shit over the side, whatever he still has that was stolen is yours...keep it as a reminder DON Sapienti don't take kindly to being stolen from".

Rosa & Antonino:

The constant roar of fat drops hitting the steel-sheathed wooden roof of the Studebaker was relaxing as she leaned back in the cushioned seat, wrapped in one of the four motor robes she kept in the car for times like this. Cold nights with lots of waiting. The thick wool blanket of tartan red and black, was soft and warm as she waited down by docking point for the freighter that was bringing Antonino back home from the North. Putting the slender cigarette of reefer to her lips, she inhaled lightly as the tip glowed a soft cherry of red. The heat in her lungs helped to shunt the cold, and the smoke helped her to relax. It was just an ordinary night. Looking into the mirror, she could see the dark, sombre hulks of the trucks, waiting for the shipment to arrive.

As the cigarette dwindled to nothing, she dropped the remains into a puddle outside of her window, the chill air and wetness followed her hand back under the robe as she fished out her pocket watch. It was a model from long ago, a piece handed down from her mother's family. Originally from her great, great grandfather. Silver with a face tat had faded to a patina of ivory-like colour, with hand painted roman numerals in black. It continued to work and served her well as she checked the time, using the light from the moon that peeped through a break in the clouds far away. She had a few minutes before she was to start flashing the signal to the ship, that was likely out there already, waiting at anchor a mile or so from shore.

She pushed the heavy wool robe from herself, and crudely folded it in the dark. From under the dash, she fetched her three cell torch and her umbrella. As her boots cleared the running boards of the car, they sank a little into the soaked earth beside the small dockhouse, where the boat crews were waiting for the signal. The umbrella opened swiftly, a rustle of fabric that clicked solidly open, giving her a shelter from the hammering cold water that splashed at her legs. Wearing clean, dark grey slacks and a heavy navy blue longcoat, she traded a bit of femininity for utilitarian functionality, however she wore the slim brimmed sisal cloche with a plain navy ribbon to keep anyone from mistaking her for a man.

Torch lit, she stepped around puddles and rapped on the doors to the trucks, making sure the truck drivers were alert and aware. Five minutes. At the last truck she doubled back to the boat house. Two raps and she entered, finding the men playing an impromptu dice game as they waited, at her entrance however, they straightened, and quieted down. “Get the engines warm. Four minutes until I signal.”

She was met with nods and a man in his late sixties, salt and pepper hair, and skin with caverns and crevasses from decades of working the lakes, echoing, “Get'em ready ya pikers!” The mix of men, from young to old set to business, casting lines and as she closed the door behind her, the rumble of the engines purred into the night, muted by the board walls. Reaching her car, she looked to her watch once again, two minutes.

As the second hand tripped to halfway to the time, she flicked the lights on, and off, in a unique pattern similar to morse code. The modification of an extra pair of headlights that aided her in driving at night, also served as effective signaling lamps when needed. The four beams piercing the night and rain into the dark that loomed over Lake Michigan. The coded message was simple, letting the ship know that there was no police activity, and four launch craft were enroute. She waited a moment, and the reply came, correct code. She gave a quick honk of her horn, and the launches powered out of their protective shelters, to rendezvous with the freighter, and acquire the excess cargo the ship was carrying, and its passenger.

Antonino grumbled under his breath as the sound of the crew being roused to prepare for docking woke him from his fitful rest, while on his feet the pitching back and forth of the freighter hadn’t bothered him, at least not until he tried to lay down and close his eyes, then his belly started doing flips as the freighter rolled on the rough waves. With a grunt he rolled up and kicked his legs over the side of the bunk and slipped his shoes on, then stretched out his arms, twisted left and right working the kinks out of his back, got to his feet and pulled on his overcoat, then made his way back to the wheelhouse.

Antonino walked into the wheelhouse just as the new Captain was returning the corresponding sequence of light flashes then turned to look at Antonino, “The launches are on the way, hopefully I’ll never see you again...no offence of course”. Antonino lit a cigarette, “Do your job, don’t help yourself to the Don’s merchandise and you wont”, He said between puffs, “Have a safe trip, Captain”, He finished then left the wheelhouse and waited for the first of the launches to come along side the freighter. Once the first launch pulled up alongside, Antonino climbed over the side, “Take me to the dock”, He said to the man piloting the boat who gave him a ‘who the hell are you’ look,” Yeah, ok, right after we load”, the Pilot replied as he steered the launch down the side of the freighter. “You didn’t hear me...take me to the dock, I’ve a meeting with Don Sapienti, you wouldn’t want to be the cause of me being late...Trust me”. The Pilot mumbled under his breath then relented, “Fine, fine, have a seat”, Then pointed the launch and headed back to the dock.

Antonino wasn’t sure what to think of Rosa Lowe as he stepped off the launch and onto the dock, pulling the collar of his overcoat tighter around his neck to fend off the rain, the first thing that came to mind was that she seemed like a duck out of water, given her normal attire, she appeared to be more at home in either a garage or out on the farm rather than hobnobbing with the Chicago Socialites. But he had heard about her driving abilities, and how she could just about fix anything on wheels as well as drive it, useful enough skill even for a woman and obviously she had made an impression on the Sapienti Family. Antonino approached the Studebaker, tipped the brim of his hat to Rosa, “Good Eve, Miss Lowe, A pleasure to met you, despite the weather, I trust you’re here to drive me to the meeting?”.

The signaller flashed back to shore when the launches arrived, four times. She responded with a single flash, the brilliance of the lights turning the slashing rain into a wash of gold before the car. Her right hand dropped from the lights switch to the ignition, and turned it on. A press of the button and the electric starter churned the engine to life, a thick bass-heavy snarl, settling into a thrumming drone as the car idled. From what she had heard from her boss, Manuel Galiante, Antonino was straight-forward, and could be impatient. She figured he’d be coming back before the launches were loaded, which wasn’t a problem. But it did make it a bit of a pain, after the meeting, she’d have to get a hold of the head driver and the old man leading the launches and get the figures from them to make her report. Neither of the men knew exactly how much the shipment was, which made it easy make sure they were being honest.

Another noise rose over the burble of her Stude’s engine, and she looked up into the darkness over the water. She couldn’t see it yet, but it was one of the boats returning. Her hunch was right. A few minutes later, she offered Antonino a polite smile and a nod to his question. “Pleasure to meet you Mr. DiStefano,” her tongue missing a beat with his name. Her voice was pleasant, but not musical, a hint of Germany coming through. “Yes, Galiante sent me, via the Don. Which is why, if you check under the green robe, there is a dry coat of yours waiting for you.” Of which, she had taken extra attention in placing under the coat and robe, a pair of hot water bottles, which would leave the coat and robe themselves quite warm and welcoming.

She shifted into reverse, backing away from the lake while swinging the nose of the car in line with the black hole of the road, as she asked, “How was Sault Ste Marie?” Once the nose of the car was clear of the trucks, she brought the vehicle to a stop, and turned on the headlights. Shifting into first, the Special Six rolled forth on the wooded lane.

Antonino regarded her question with a perked eyebrow and a moments silence, rarely was he ever questioned about his jobs for the Don by anyone outside if the inner circle without risking being thought of as a Stool Pigeon for the Gum shoes not on the Sapienti payroll, and very bad things happened to Stool Pigeons when they were caught, He hoped for her sake it was just a naive question. After a minute or two, he shrugged it off, pulled a cigarette from the pack in his breastpocket and lit it, after a puff he calmly answered her question as if it had just been a typical business trip, "As expected...the freighter Captain was replaced last night, I'd like for you to keep an eye on the next shipment or two, make sure whats unloaded matches up with the manifests and I'll see that you get a little extra cabbage at the end of the week for your trouble, and thanks for the coat, I'll switch once we get to the speakeasy, speaking of which, I knew the Cook there, makes a genuinely old world tomato sauce, I'll have him prepare a plate of pasta that will warm you up much better than those water bottles will".

As she turned onto the road that headed back towards the lights and glamour of Chicago, the lack of an answer made her realize she had made an error of judgement. As she guided the car down the improved gravel road, she kept waiting for the man to say something, cough, clear his throat, move. The stone silence and her limited knowledge of Antonino’s reputation put her on edge. She hadn’t acted as chauffeur for anyone in the Family higher than Galiante before, and this was both an honour, and a test. And she had corked it.

His movement, fishing out his cigarettes and lighting one distracted her momentarily, her thoughts of previous tasks fleeing from her mind as she resumed her focus on the road ahead. A beam of light appearing in the far gloom through the wipers that beat at the rain that covered the windshield. He answered, not callously, but...with a nonchalance of the act that spoke volumes of his experience. Strangely, while reinforcing his level of intimidation, the casualness eased the tension in her shoulders. “Glad I never met the sap,” her thick hair shifting over her neck as she shook her head once, “Thank you for the offer, I think I will take you up on it. Going to the warehouse after this meet to count the deliveries.”

The rest of the drive was quiet between them, yet neither companionable nor uncomfortable.

Outside D’s, the Studebaker rolled to a stop outside the door. The deep hunter green paint of the body and black of the running boards and roof reflected the yellow street lights in dim hues, failing to stand out especially from any of the other cars on the street. Popping the vehicle out of gear, she looked over her shoulder to her passenger, “I’ll let you out here, away from the pitchforks that are fallin’ outside.” They had arrived a bit early, as she had planned. Antonino was one of the new Don’s closest men, and he was just back from job. He likely needed a minute or five to talk to Sapienti before the meeting got underway.