Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

1996, Philadelphia

Tony hid a grimace at the sight of the garish circus poster at the front of the park. 

He had never been to a circus before.  Senior wasn’t the type of father to think of fun activities for parent-child bonding, and what little they had done were usually rooted in a business deal his father was pursuing (civil war re-enactments, vacations to Hawaii, skiing…Tony shivered at the memories).  His mother had enjoyed time with Tony, but she preferred cinema to live action and had shared that love with her son.

Tony shook off the thought.  Officer Anthony DiNozzo of the Philadelphia Police Department might never have gone to the circus due to his parents’ lack of interest, but Antonio Bianchi was a different man.

Still, Bianchi, who had grown up in a series of foster homes back in Baltimore according to the backstory, probably hadn’t had too many trips to the circus either.  Maybe he’d sneaked out, played hooky; pitted himself against the rigged carnie games.  That seemed likely.

Of course, Tony wasn’t really at the circus to enjoy the performances; he was escorting Michael Macaluso and the rest of the family.  Mike had a property and security business which was a front for organised crime.  Not that there was a great deal of evidence that could be pinned on Mike: he was very good and hence the need for an undercover operation to take him down.

Tony had been recruited from Peoria after his stint undercover with a gang there had ended successfully with an entire drug ring getting dismantled.  Of course, staying with Peoria afterwards hadn’t really been an option.  The remnants of the gang had put a kill order on him and unfortunately his colleagues had turned out to be jealous assholes who felt it was okay to leave Tony without back-up.   

He’d had a lot of offers, but Detective Jonathan Baker had sold the undercover gig with the Macaluso family better than any of the others.  Baker was Tony’s handler; an old school cop who believed in law and order; Humphrey Bogart at the peak of his career with a dapper suit and dry, deadpan delivery.  One year into the Philadelphia op and Tony had no complaints.

He was slowly building a case against the Macaluso family.  The first six months had been sparse as Tony had joined as a security guard for the official Macaluso business, looking after the front door and charming the staff as they wandered through.  But then Francesca Macaluso had invited him on a date and within two months he was a trusted part of the family because Mike liked him.  Even after Tony and Frankie had decided they were better as friends, Mike had kept Tony close, jokingly calling him his long-lost son.

Weirdly, Tony figured that Mike liked Antonio because Antonio was a good Italian boy who went to Mass on Sunday and went to confession every Tuesday; an orphan trying to make something of himself.

Baker had questioned Tony’s choice of security guard in the legitimate side of the business as an entry point, but Tony had instinctively known trying to join as a low-level enforcer wouldn’t work.

Tony sighed inwardly at the tumult of mixed emotions.

There was no doubt that Mike Macaluso was a Mafia Don.  Underneath the legitimate businesses, the core of the family’s wealth came from criminal activity; buying and selling stolen goods, protection racketeering, white collar fraud, and bribery and corruption of city and state officials.

But setting aside his criminality, Mike had a firm set of morals that he upheld.  He adored his wife, Bettina, and outright revelled in being a father and grandfather.  He was absolutely devoted to keeping his city safe. 

If people paid the family for protection, they were protected.  The poor and disadvantaged were never targeted as marks, only the wealthy as though Mike was a modern day Robin Hood.  And most of the bribes and fraud were done in the pursuit of projects that helped people and their wider communities; the securing of a community garden, an office building that rented out brought jobs to a depressed part of town. 

Mike didn’t tolerate drugs in his city, and even the illegal gun trade of valuable Stark weapons wasn’t truly welcome.  Mike allowed it but he didn’t take part.  Weirdly, Philadelphia had a low crime rate partially because of Mike’s control on the criminal element in the city, and most of the city loved Mike as a result – even the police had turned a blind eye to the Macaluso family.

If a high-ranking city official hadn’t been killed in an assassination leaving a dinner meeting which had been specifically requested by Mike, and where there had been a clear threat to kill him overheard by multiple witnesses at the restaurant, Tony figured that Philadelphia PD would have continued turning a blind eye.

Murder and assassination were not usually in Mike’s wheelhouse.  Threats, intimidation, a brutal beat-down of other criminals and outsiders trying to muscle in on the Macaluso territory; they were typical in how Mike kept control, but not killing.  The murder of Simon Hatton had been a bizarre outlier. 

Not that anybody had actually been able to prove that Mike had organised his killing for all he’d been overheard threatening it.  The assassin, a very good sniper, remained at large and there was just no evidence.  The police had questioned Mike about the threat and he’d pointed them at a host of evidence that showed Hatton was corrupt and morally bankrupt; that Hatton had been neck-deep in the trafficking young women.

Frankly, his death was no loss.

However, the murder had provoked the police department into investigating the Macaluso family formally, ignoring their own complicity at the years of blindly ignoring them.  They’d started a taskforce to bring them down…and found themselves stuck. 

Any evidence they found was circumstantial at best, and more problematically, nobody was talking.  Two undercover attempts had been made before Tony. The agents had been quickly discovered and politely asked to leave, with a complaint lodged to the Mayor each time.  Finally, Baker had decided to get someone from out of town, and the rest, thought Tony with a hint of amusement, was history.

Tony cast a look around as their overly large group paused by the ticket desk.  Beside him, Bertie Hickson, one of the older security guards, stamped his feet and huffed a breath into the overcast sky. The weather was on the cusp of turning, the summer heat and humidity giving way to the sharper cold bite of winter. 

The old Pavillion parkland was located on the west side of Philadelphia, just at the tired edges of the city. Worn-out suburbs littered one side of the park while the start of a redevelopment of the old defunct industrial area framed the other. Tony had been to the derelict industrial park with Mike as part of his security before. The surrounding streets were committed to his memory to assist if they had to do a quick exit.

His gaze finished up on another larger version of the circus poster pinned to the desk.

“Stop glaring at the poster, kid,” Bertie said. “At least you’re not the poor fucks who have to wear the outfits.”

“Language, Bertie,” Tony snapped, darting a look over to the group of Macaluso grandkids hovering around Mike.

His expression softened a touch at the sight of the older man with his family.

Tony ducked his head.

The truth was the abandoned kid in Tony wanted to bask in Mike’s attention.  Mike was fatherly to Antonio; he was proud of Antonio, respected him. Tony knew that whatever the problem might be, if he went to him, Mike would help Antonio. It was the type of paternal affection that Tony had wished for every day of his childhood.

And Bettina, Betty, was the mother Tony had secretly wished he’d had in those moments when his mother was too drunk to be a mother. Betty’s Italian Mama roots were evocative of the dim memories he had of Nonna Bella, his paternal grandmother. She ran the family, an iron fist in a velvet glove.

It was dangerous the way that Tony soaked up the feeling of family, of warm parental regard for the first time in his life from the Macalusos; the way that he wished secretly that it was directed at Tony DiNozzo rather than his cover persona. 

He had been concerned at the start that Mike’s kids would have a problem with the way Mike had taken him under his wing and folded him into the family, but Francesca found the whole thing hilarious.

Tony would never regret the fast friendship he’d made with Frankie.  It helped that she wasn’t involved with the family business. She’d graduated with a law degree, eschewed getting involved with the business, and had plans to be the first female District Attorney in Philadelphia.   

The youngest Macaluso, Bono, was also not involved. He was in medical school. Twenty years old, passionate, and kind-hearted, Bono was already engaged to his high school sweetheart, Alison. She was training as a kindergarten teacher. They’d agreed to marry after they both graduated, and Betty was already elbows deep in planning the wedding.

The older sons of Mike and Betty, Mickey Junior and Bobby were both in the business along with their one and only cousin on the Macaluso side, Steffano.

It was Steffano, the oldest of the three, who ran the actual shady part of the business for Mike.  He was widowed and not a lot was said about his deceased wife. He had a teenage daughter, Laura, who was a riot.  Laura was fiercely intelligent, an accomplished gymnast, and she could already shoot better than her father.  

Mickey was divorced twice. He was on his third marriage and had four kids, all boys, by the three different women. 

Tony probably got on the least with Mickey, the eldest of Mike’s own sons.  Mickey reminded Tony too much of his own father – all talk and hot air.  The inner core of a conman was barely hidden by the sheen of a suited and booted businessman.  Mickey was nominally in charge of the legitimate security operation.  He tended to leave everything to his secretary, Maureen, who was nominally Tony’s boss. 

Antonio kind of adored the no-nonsense African-American former cop, and Tony lamented the injury which had forced Maureen out of the police force and into the waiting arms of organised crime.

Maureen’s daughter, Rebecca, was Bobby’s wife.  She and Bobby ran the property business.  They were both very successful realtors.  From everything Tony had heard, they’d had a hard time conceiving and so treasured their only daughter, Mary. The pretty dark-haired child was hanging off her grandfather’s hand as they headed past the desk and entered into the circus grounds.

Tony ignored the come-hither look from one of the ticket sellers.  Her companion, a buxom blonde, winked at Mickey in a knowing way that told Tony they were likely a regular hook-up when the circus was in town.  Mickey’s estranged wife had refused to come with them.  Tony was beginning to understand why.

“Tonio,” Steffano called out from where he was talking to his daughter, “can you escort, Laura?  Bertie and I are going to talk with Carson.” 

Tony nodded.  It didn’t surprise Tony that Steffano had been clear about where Antonio should be; Steffano was the least trusting of the family.  He wouldn’t invite Tony to a shakedown.  

Steffano kissed Laura’s cheek and nudged her in Tony’s direction. 

Tony signalled to the other security guards who had accompanied the family.  Two of them fell into step behind Steffano; the other two shuffled closer to the main family group.

Frankie slipped her arm through Tony’s.  “Don’t look so glum, tesoro.  This circus is one of the best of Papa’s traditional family outings.”

Tony shrugged and grinned at her.  “I’ve only sneaked into a circus before; didn’t really see much.”  He ignored the twinge of guilt at the lie. 

Frankie squeezed his arm.  “Well, you’ll have a prime seat this time with the family.”  She gestured towards the game alley.  “Want to go shoot things?”

Tony signalled the two security guards Steffano had left again, and jerked his head towards the side tents of small pre-shows where Mike and Betty were shepherding the kids.  He pretended not to see Mike’s pleased expression at the way Frankie had appropriated Tony.  Mike had made no secret that he hoped Frankie and Tony would resume their relationship.

Bobby and Rebecca followed after the gaggle of Macaluso children, leaving a loved-up Bono and Alison kissing in front of the ticket desk. 

Laura flung herself at Frankie who laughed and tucked her against her other side.  “I’m so glad I’m with you guys.”  She scowled at where Bono and Alison were still lip locked.  “I really can’t put up with that.”

“Just wait until you get your own guy,” Frankie said as she turned them in the direction of the alley.

“I’m thinking about becoming a lesbian,” Laura announced dryly.

Tony laughed.

“No, seriously, have you seen the guys my age?” Laura complained.  “They’re so childish.  Besides I just realised that I have a massive girl crush on Tracy Bell.”

“Seventeen is a difficult age for boys,” agreed Frankie.

They continued to chatter as they wandered around the games.

The shooting games were rigged and neither Tony nor Laura could hit the targets as much as they could at the range.

“Shame it is, girlie,” the young man who ran the game said, not sounding sorry at all as he slyly pocketed the money that they’d handed over rather than putting it in the tin.  He winked at Laura. 

Tony scowled at him.

Laura’s mouth twisted into a deep frown, her brow furrowing.  “I’m going to try again.”

Tony’s lips quirked upwards.  He’d pretty much figured how the targets were rigged but it would be interesting to see if Laura had worked out all the angles she’d need to adjust.

The guy shrugged.  “It’ll cost you another five dollars.”

Frankie handed over the money.  “Here.”  She stooped to whisper in Laura’s ear.  “You show him, cara.”

Laura carefully lined up the gun and the first target.  She fired and it hit the centre. 

Tony settled for a stoic nod even as Frankie whooped in delight.  Antonio wasn’t the type of person who whooped.

Laura took out two more, came close on the other four, leaving only the final one.  She only had to make the shot to win one of the stuffed animals which were the advertised prizes.

Tony held his breath as Frankie clutched onto his arm.

Laura re-aimed, took a breath and…

The shot missed, clipping the outer ring but nowhere near to score.

“Damn it!” Laura said. 

“You assumed the drift was in the same direction as the others and calculated for the offset in the wrong direction,” a young voice said from behind them.

Tony spun around to face a stocky teen dressed in jeans, t-shirt and a denim jacket which looked like it had seen better days.  The teen’s light brown hair was shaved at the sides, spiky at the top with purple tips.  His hands were pushed deep in his jacket pockets.  He looked about the same age as Laura.

“Clint!” The games attendant snapped angrily.  “Get the fuck outta here!”

“No can do, Barney,” drawled the teen – presumably Clint.  “Carson wanted eyes on our VIPs.”

The attendant, Barney, paled.  Tony saw the sweat starting to bead on Barney’s forehead. 

“VIPs?” Barney stuttered out.

Clint angled his head at Laura and gave a nod.  “Macaluso.”

“Barton,” stated Laura evenly.

Tony raised his eyebrows and looked at Frankie.

She gave a very Italian shrug, her dark eyes simmering with some emotion he couldn’t quite parse.  “Laura and Clint usually hang-out together when we visit.”

Right.

The circus was a yearly tradition.

“Your aim’s getting better,” Clint said, his attention on Laura.

Laura sniffed.  “Not even you can hit all of them.”

Tony figured she was right.  The calculations to account for the way each target and the gunsights were rigged were pretty complex.

Barney sniggered.  “He definitely can’t now! I changed them all up after our last stop!”

“Oh, we should definitely test that,” Frankie said loudly.  She held aloft another five-dollar bill.  “Are you game, Clint? I think Laura wants the purple bear.  I’d like her to have it.”

“I do not want the bear!” Laura growled, blushing.  She folded her arms over her coat and glared at Frankie.

Frankie ignored her, waving the money at Clint.

Clint gave a small smile, a hint of colour in his own cheeks.  “Anything for you, Miss Francesca.”

Frankie smirked and handed over the money.

Clint cast a curious look at Tony as he stepped up.  Frankie handed over the money and Barney handed Clint a gun.

Tony wasn’t altogether surprised when the teen examined the gun carefully before he began to aim. 

One target was shot dead centre.

Then another.

Then another.

Clint subtly adjusted his stance at the fourth target.

Another hit.

And another.

And another.

Six targets down; two to go.

Barney was scowling.

Clint shifted the gun minutely.

Seventh target was a centre hit.

Frankie clutched at Tony’s arm as they held their breath on the eighth.

Tony was rooting for the guy.  The teen was clearly a very good shot, but more than that, he had to have something of a brain underneath the weird hairdo to make the calculations.

Clint pulled the trigger.

Eight targets.  All centre hits.

Frankie gave a war cry, jumping up and down.  “Yes!”

A small smattering of applause broke out. 

Clint looked over his shoulder at the crowd which had gathered and gave a sheepish grin. 

A burly woman with a beard gave a booming laugh from behind the crowd gathering their attention.  “Ladies and gentlemen!  The Amazing Hawkeye!”  The seasoned circus performer waved at Clint.  “You can see him in the big top for the show performance later!  He never misses!”

People started to drift away, although a few hung back clearly intent on trying their hand at the shooting next.

Frankie turned to Barney with an arched eyebrow.  “Purple bear, please.”

Clint took the bear from Barney in exchange for the gun.  He leaned over the counter and whispered something in the guy’s ear.  Barney’s face went an ugly shade of red.  Clint stepped back following as Frankie ushered them away to the side.

Clint offered the bear to Laura.  “Here.”

Laura scowled furiously at him.  “I’m a lesbian!”

Bemusement blinked over Clint’s features.  “Uh, good for you?”

Tony choked down his laughter. 

Frankie didn’t bother.  “I’ll take it if you don’t want it, Laura.”

Laura snatched it out of Clint’s hands and started walking towards the cotton candy stall.  Frankie followed after her, catching her up and looping their arms together.

“You’re new,” Clint commented as they set off after the ladies.

“So I am,” Tony responded with Antonio’s terseness, hoping to discourage the kid from asking questions.

Clint hummed and stuck his hands in his pockets.

“You been with the circus long, kid?” Tony asked brusquely.

“Since I was seven,” Clint said in a tone which also spoke volumes.

Tony didn’t press it.  Baker would have info for him, or he’d find out himself what the story was without putting too much pressure on a teenage boy.  Maybe Antonio would have pressed, but Tony figured his cover was safe enough.  Mike might have wondered at the lapse and Steffano would definitely get suspicious, but neither of them were present.   

“You don’t seem to get on too well with Barney,” Tony commented.

Clint shrugged. 

“You tell him to keep his thieving fingers off the takings?” Tony asked dryly, a hint of Antonio’s wildness in his voice.

Clint’s gaze darted to his face and back to the ground.  He looked resigned whereas Tony had thought he’d see some teenage defiance, maybe a hot denial.  But then if Clint really didn’t get on with Barney it explained the lack of defence.  

“Are you going to tell Mister Macaluso?” Clint asked.

“Do I need to?” Tony shot back.

“Barney’s new,” Clint said.  “He’s still learning how things work around here.”

And, oh, wow was that a loaded comment.

But an interesting one.

Tony considered the teen with more interest.  How much did Clint know about the Macaluso operation?  Kids got into things they weren’t supposed to; eavesdropped on conversations they weren’t meant to hear.

The circus would be in town for two weeks and Tony knew that Mike came out with some of the family almost every day to the park when it was in town.  He had some time to cultivate a relationship with the kid and find out exactly what Clint knew.

“Make sure he learns fast,” Tony suggested sternly.

Clint nodded.

“You want some sugar, sugar?” Frankie asked as they joined them at the stand.  Laura was already juggling the bear and a stick of yellow cotton candy.

Tony shook his head and gave her a sharp smile.  “I’m sweet enough.”

“Clint?” Frankie offered him a stick of purple fluff.

His face lit up and he reached for the sugary snack.

“Barton!”

Clint’s hand dropped from the confectionary.

Tony stared at the garishly dressed performer who had shouted.  Tall, with black hair and an impeccably twirled evil moustache, he wore a pirate’s outfit, a sword belt looped around his waist with an actual sword in the sheath.  He remembered the name of the performer from the circus poster.

“Carson says to get ready,” the Swordsman ordered.

Clint gave a nod and turned back to their group.  He gave a nod to Frankie and darted a nervous glance towards Laura.  “Miss Francesca, Miss Macaluso.” His gaze drifted to Tony.

“Antonio Bianchi,” Frankie offered.  “I brought him home and Papa adopted him.”

Tony rolled his eyes at her.

Clint gave him a cautious nod.  “Mister Bianchi.”

“Good luck with the performance,” Tony offered briskly.

“Barton!” The Swordsman called out again.

“See you there,” Clint said and hurried away.

Tony watched Clint until he was out of sight.  He let himself be pulled away by Frankie towards a side-tent offering palm readings with Madame Mystery.

Laura made her way inside.

Frankie settled to wait in a nearby nook between side-tents with the entrance to the palm-reading in full view.  Tony stood beside her and waited for her to speak.

“You want to know about Clint,” Frankie stated, pulling apart her cotton candy with a forefinger and thumb.  Her eyes were sharp on his.

Tony nodded.

Frankie drew a breath as though fortifying herself.  “In ’eighty-six, Clint just appeared with the circus.  He was part of the Swordsman’s act with a little solo spot to himself.  Anyone with eyes could see even at that young age he was talented with a bow and arrow, and as a new teenager I was not really paying attention.”

Tony shifted to tuck an errant lock of dark hair behind her ear before it got tangled in sugar.  “Where did Carson pick him up?”

“Waverly, Iowa,” Frankie said. “His mother’s been in and out of the lock-up there since just before Clint joined the circus.”

“Father?”

Frankie grimaced. “The sperm donor drunkenly killed himself in a car accident when Clint was four. There was a track record of domestic abuse – mother in and out of the local clinic with black eyes and bruises. There was one medical record for Clint when he was two although the mother claimed he fell down the stairs. Common consensus was that Harold Barton was an abusive drunk and bully.”  She paused. “There was an older brother on the records, a Charles Barton. He was left with the father when the mother took Clint and split. After the Dad died, we think the brother went into the system and disappeared.”

“That’s a lot of information for someone not really paying attention,” Tony noted carefully.

“Last year, Clint stopped an abduction attempt on Laura,” Frankie said. “We all started paying attention.”

Tony shifted his weight to hide his consternation that the abduction hadn’t been in the briefing file he’d been given. “What happened?”

“On the last day of the circus, they made a grab for her here. Laura was practicing her shooting with Clint on a practice range out beyond the trailers. They always hung out together there; they’d been doing it since they were kids.” Frankie straightened as though she was bracing herself. “Clint managed to shoot two guys and Laura stabbed another with an arrow when he grabbed her.”

“Police get involved?” asked Tony evenly.  Maybe they didn’t even know…  

Frankie nodded eliminating that as an excuse for its omission. 

“Clint was initially arrested because one of the men he’d shot died, but Papa got William involved and his actions were ruled self-defence,” she said. “The other two men were charged and pleaded guilty. They’re in Graterford.”

And that was much quicker than justice usually worked, Tony mused. It looked like strings had been pulled; the abductors threatened.

Frankie took a breath. “I know I joke about Papa adopting you, but Papa seriously wanted to adopt Clint and bring him into the family as a thank you, but the circus left before he could make the offer.”  She shrugged. “Steffano followed them apparently, but he said when he came back that Clint was happy with the circus; that he has family here.”  She gestured out towards the tents.

Tony was beginning to draw a picture in his head of how things had gone down the year before.  He figured Simon Hatton had been part of the abduction attempt and that was the reason why he’d been sniped.

Sniped.

Single shot to the forehead.

Damn it.

Tony really hoped Steffano had engaged someone other than a teenage boy to do the hit. 

Steffano.

He hadn’t truly thought about who had been behind the hit, but thinking the thought…that fit.  Steffano ran the business; he was brutal and violent in a way Mike just wasn’t.

Tony breathed out, a puzzle piece clicking into place. He turned his attention back to Frankie.  “It explains why Steffano wanted us to stay with Laura.”

“You,” Frankie corrected, “Steffano wanted Laura with you.”

Tony met Frankie’s challenging gaze with an even look. “Well, I am technically on the books as a security guard even if Mike has co-opted me as his, Frankie.”

Frankie’s gaze swam with concern before she locked it down with a sigh.

Tony nudged her shoulder with his. “Are you worried there’ll be another attempt?”

“No,” Frankie shook her head, sending tendrils of her hair flying. “Just…Clint’s a friend of the family, same as you, capiche? Stop looking at him like he’s going to steal the family jewels.”

“Got it,” Tony said.

He wondered if Clint really had turned down the offer and if Steffano had actually made one. More concerning, he thought worriedly, was that the whole thing was missing in his briefing. It suggested that the Philadelphia PD knew full well that the abduction and Hatton’s death were connected but had obscured it from the asset they’d brought in to bring the Macaluso family down.

Corruption or a test?

Tony wasn’t certain, but if it was the former, his cover was likely already blown and had been from day one. He took a steadying breath.

Laura barrelled out from the tent. She had lost the candy stick, and the bear was tucked under her arm. She hurried over to them.

“So,” asked Frankie, her voice bright with mirth, “did Madame Mystery confirm you’re going to be a lesbian?”

Laura rolled her eyes. “She gets more cryptic every year, I swear,” she complained.  “Apparently, she thinks I’m going to marry Barton.”

Tony smirked at the amount of disgust in her voice.

“He is cute,” Frankie said teasingly, “and he did save your life.”

“I saved my life,” Laura protested, darting a glance at Tony, “he just helped a little.”

“Right, cara,” Frankie said dryly.

Laura blew out a huffy breath. “I don’t suppose Dad will let me go to the range this year.”

“Unlikely,” Frankie agreed.

“Maybe not here,” Tony said, wanting to ease the disappointment on Laura’s face, “but we could probably take Barton out to our usual range instead.”  It would be a good excuse to spend time with the kid.

Laura’s face brightened.  “Yeah, that might work.”  She smiled at him. “Thanks, Antonio.” 

Tony shrugged.  “What’s the next stop?”

Laura and Frankie exchanged a mischievous look. Frankie looped her arm around his left, Laura did the same on his right.

“You’re going to love The Charmer,” Laura proclaimed.

Tony doubted it but he let the two women escort him off to the snake charming tent. 

An hour later, Tony followed Frankie as she clambered up to their seats in the main tent. They had the best view of the action in the arena. One row was already filled with family; Bobby, Rebecca and Mary sat one end; Mike, Betty and Mickey’s kids at the other.  Mickey was nowhere in sight. 

Frankie tutted under her breath as she sat down beside Bono. “Where’s Mickey?” She whispered to her brother.

“Banging the ticket lady like usual,” Bono whispered back.

Frankie grimaced.

Tony ushered Laura into the seat by Frankie and handed out the food he’d been carrying for them all. He settled into his own seat, curious about the performances he was about to watch as an elegantly dressed man entered the circle in a top hat and tails.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to Carson’s Carnival!” The ringmaster declared.

Twenty minutes in, Tony was bemused at why Mike was so enamoured with the circus.  The performances were fine in the main – some good horse-riding and tricks, some decent juggling. The clowns were slapstick and pitched for kids, but they did have the kids laughing loudly.  The big cats had drawn the most ooh’s and aah’s, but Tony couldn’t help but notice how thin they were. He had to stop himself wincing at every whip crack.

“Swordsman’s next,” Laura said, slurping on the large soda she’d ordered. 

It didn’t take Tony long into the performance to realise that Clint Barton was the best performer Carson had.  The boy had a natural physical agility, making his acrobatics look easy and graceful.  His skill with the sword was brilliant and Tony figured the staged choreography was the only reason why the Swordsman came across as better.

The act came to an end with the crowd clapping enthusiastically.

The Swordsman bowed out and Barton began his own solo performance as the Amazing Hawkeye.

Tony was legitimately blown away. The kid had mad skills, Tony mused as Clint rode a horse around the arena, shooting arrows random targets.

A sense of something pulled Tony’s attention from Clint. He took a glance around the tent and took in the crowd. Nobody looked out of place.  Just a normal circus audience, their attention on the action in front of them, clapping and gasping with excitement.

The performance ended.

Tony clapped along with everyone else. They began gathering their things and made their way out of the tent.

Laura dashed to the nearby porta-loo and Tony waited for her, waving Frankie away with the rest of the Macaluso brood. It seemed to take forever before she was done and ready to leave.

Steffano waited for them by the park exit. He threw down a cigarette, stamping it out. 

Laura wrinkled her nose at him. “Dad!”

“Let’s get you home, Laurie,” Steffano said, ignoring her distaste at his smoking. He nodded at Tony.  “Thank you for looking after her, ‘Tonio.”

Tony nodded, taking in the protective arm Steffano had thrown around his daughter’s shoulders, the way he looked at her as though she was his most precious treasure. If there was one thing Tony was certain of with Steffano, it was that Steffano truly loved his daughter.

Tony watched them head for Steffano’s car, the driver scrambling to get the door open.

Mike came to stand beside him. His stocky frame was wrapped up in a black wool coat and he wore black leather gloves. His bald head was uncovered though. Tony noted that his cold blue gaze had followed Tony’s gaze to Steffano’s car.

“How did you enjoy the circus, Antonio?” asked Mike, too much seriousness in his voice for Tony’s liking.

“It’s been interesting,” Tony said diplomatically.

“My Pops used to bring me,” Mike said. “He and Old Man Carson had business together.” He glanced around. “A lot has changed since those days.” 

Steffano’s car drove off.

Tony shivered in the cold Philadelphia air.

“I don’t do business with the circus beyond the rent for the grounds these days and a security fee,” Mike said conversationally. “Carson is not the businessman his father was.”

Tony hummed. “Steffano’s business with Carson took up a lot of time for payment discussions.”

“Yes, I thought you might notice that,” Mike said dryly.  “I noticed too.”  His head glinted orange under the artificial light of the parking lot. “Something is not right here.” He glanced back to where his own driver and car were waiting. Betty was already tucked away inside. “Frankie was going to wait for you, I told her to go home.”

Tony raised his eyebrows because usually Mike did everything that he could to throw them together.

“Frankie says she told you about last year.”

“She said Barton saved Laura’s life; that there was an abduction attempt,” Tony said.

Mike nodded. “When we went to research Barton, we ran into wall after wall. Walls a clown like Carson shouldn’t have. Walls that make me nervous.”

Tony frowned.

“I need someone I trust to find out what’s going on here with Steffano and Carson.” Mike grimaced. “And I need to know if Steffano truly gave my offer to young Barton.”

Tony turned to Mike with a frown even though he’d had the same thought himself. “You really think he ignored your wishes?”

“I think my nephew might have gotten himself into something I deliberately ensured that we don’t get involved in,” Mike said firmly. “If he has, he’s in trouble and he’s bringing trouble to the family.”

Tony looked at Mike and gave a nod. “I’ll get on it, sir.”

Mike patted his shoulder. “I’ll send you what little information I have already. You’re a good boy, Antonio.”  He walked away, sliding into the backseat of his car.

Tony waited until he lost sight of the taillights before he moved, heading back into the park grounds. Mike might have ordered the investigation, but Tony’s cop instincts were screaming at him.

Something was very rotten at Carson’s carnival.

o-O-o

Tony slid into the confessional booth and knocked a specific pattern on the frame. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

“Be at peace with God and unburden yourself, my son,” Baker said, too much amusement in his voice for Tony’s liking.

It had been Baker’s idea to use the church as their point of contact. Baker was already part of the congregation and since Antonio Bianchi was a good Catholic boy, it made perfect sense.

Tony sighed and rubbed his head. “Carson’s Carnival.” He tapped his fingers along his jean-clad thigh. “When were you going to tell me what happened there last year?”

There was a moment of tense silence.

“It was in the file.”

“It wasn’t,” Tony said. 

“Fuck,” Baker said.

Hidden by the confessional booth, Tony allowed his own dismay to drift over his expression. He wished he could see Baker’s expression. Sure, the older cop sounded surprised and horrified at the omission, but tone of voice could be faked.

“Someone must have removed it,” Baker concluded with a huff. “Do you think you’re compromised?”

Tony had given the topic some serious consideration in the past week after his own discovery of the info. “If Mike knows, he’s leaving me in place for a reason.  Maybe he figures it’s better the devil he knows?” He shook his head. “Even then, he has to know I have access to information.”

“Circumstantial,” Baker fired back. “Hearsay from conversations of conversations. Not saying you’re not doing a good job, and as a case it’s good context, but you and I know…”

“Unless I find solid evidence tying Mike to the related crimes, it’s not enough for a conviction,” concluded Tony tersely.

“Maybe good enough for an indictment,” Baker replied clearly trying to ease the tension.

“I don’t think Mike knows,” Tony said slowly, “he’s just asked me to look into Steffano’s dealings with the circus. If he knew I was a cop…”

“He knows if you find something you won’t sit on it,” Baker said, a note of shock in his voice. “So maybe he really doesn’t know.”

“If someone took the incident out of the briefing file, maybe they didn’t tell Mike about my going under, but maybe they’re hiding something,” Tony mused out loud.

“It’s a good theory,” Baker said. “I thought we’d checked everyone on the task force for their connections to Macaluso but maybe we missed someone or something.”

“Did you look at connections to Steffano Macaluso or just Mike?” asked Tony.

There was another taut silence.

“We focused on Mike,” Baker sighed. “Damn it.  I’m going to have to revisit all the backgrounds.”  He cleared his throat. “Why Steffano?”

“The hit on Hatton,” Tony said bluntly. “I believe Hatton was behind the abduction attempt on Laura. He was a trafficker and he had the contacts and the know-how to grab her. I think he intended to maybe use her for leverage, force Mike or Steffano to do something that Mike wouldn’t usually agree to doing.”

“Makes sense,” Baker agreed, grudgingly.

“I think the dinner was Mike warning Hatton off from making any future attempts,” Tony said. “I think Steffano figured threats weren’t enough.”

“You think Mike didn’t know?” asked Baker brusquely.

“I think Mike thinks Steffano is doing things Mike doesn’t know about and wouldn’t sanction,” Tony said. “It’s why he’s got me looking into the circus.  I’ve been digging since Saturday and I have a lot of suspicious activity and no evidence.” 

“Jesus, if Steffano ordered that hit without his uncle’s knowledge, he’s off his leash,” Baker sighed heavily. “I’ll see what I can dig up my end on the circus.” He clucked his tongue. “And on who took the connection out of the file.  You just do what you do and keep yourself safe; bail if you think your cover is blown.”

“Well, I’m on my way to pick up Barton for a session at the range with Laura so I think I’m relatively safe today,” Tony quipped. “Thank you for your guidance, Father.”

“Go in peace, son,” Baker replied dryly.

Tony exited the confessional, leaving a bible with notes inside. It was all the information he’d been able to gather about the circus along with his own observations. It also asked some specific things for Baker to follow up on.

He stopped in a pew and took a moment to go to his knees in prayer. It was a ruse to check out who else was around and if there was anything suspicious. The only person he caught sight of was old Maria Sanchez who did the flowers, bustling about at the back of the church.

Tony rose, absently made the sign of the cross and departed with a small grin at Maria. The sun was shining when he stepped out, breaking through the typical cloud cover. The air was cold again and Tony huddled in his black woollen coat.

He headed for his car. Antonio’s non-descript sedan made him glum, but Tony couldn’t take the risk of indulging his own love of classic cars. He pulled out of the church parking lot and headed for the main road which would take him back towards the circus.

Tony tuned the radio to a pop channel and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the latest tune by Hootie and the Blowfish. He considered everything he had learned about the circus since Mike had asked him to dig on Saturday.

The first thing he’d done was scout the grounds that night and he’d returned in the morning to do the same. The layout was efficient. The tents, stalls and games were set out at the front of the park near to the parking lot and two of the pedestrian entrances. Ticket desks were set out at performance times, but security was lax otherwise, despite the bouncers Carson had on staff.

Beyond the tents, to the right there was a holding space for the animals, hemmed in by the home trailers and RVs of the travelling performers who looked after the animals. 

Clint was apparently in this group as his home was the caravan belonging to the horse riders, Gregor and Gigi Kospov. From what he’d observed, it was a barter arrangement. Clint helped with chores every night and for that he got their sofa and a meal.

The file Mike had sent him had revealed that Edith Barton had handed over all parental rights to Carson back in ‘eighty-six when Clint had become part of the circus line-up. According to the circus gossip Tony had picked up over the last few days, Clint had originally stayed with the Swordsman, Jacques Duquesne. 

Duquesne was a stolen identity. The real Jacques was a pampered socialite living on his uncle’s dime back in New York, although weirdly also into swords. Still, Tony guessed that there was little chance of the guy wandering into the circus and discovering the identity theft.

He shook his head and returned to the matter of Clint’s living arrangement. Apparently, the Swordsman had thrown Clint out of his trailer when the kid took the top billing. Twelve years of age and abandoned again by a guardian. 

Tony could relate.

Initially, Clint had been taken in by the acrobatic family who’d been part of the line-up at the time since he’d help them train and stood in if any of them were ill. When they’d moved on, Gigi had apparently offered the barter deal.

Tony figured someone was paying the authorities to look the other way on Clint’s situation or maybe just to look the other way. 

Mike’s research had found that most of the circus performers were living under aliases or had stolen identities.

It played into the mythos, Tony mused. Runaway and join the circus, leave the old life behind. 

Tony had noted that the performers had created a little village of their trailers with a central hub where they would gather after the performances to let off steam, drinking and chatting into the early hours of the morning.

Beyond the trailer village a whole set of practice tents had been erected, along with outdoor circles of hay for the acts which needed the big top. 

It was beyond this area that the practice range for Clint existed.    

There was no doubt in Tony’s mind that the abduction attempt had been sourced with inside information. 

The circus was a closed group. They noticed outsiders. Tony had the excuse of being Macaluso security for his presence on the park. It had been the reason he’d given the first night when one of the clowns had called him on his presence. It had helped that Mickey had still been on site in a trailer with his hook-up. 

Tony grimaced.

Mickey paid his ticket lady friend a visit every night, arriving before the performance, dumping his kids on his parents or siblings, and heading for Candy Bee’s trailer with blatant disregard for the fact that his infidelity was out in the open for anybody to see.

Or exploit.

That thought arrested Tony’s musings.

He doubted that Mickey would have sold out his niece but…

But.

It was a weakness, a crack to push on for someone to look at hurting the Macaluso family. Tony sighed. Antonio would talk to Mike about it. He figured the Don already knew Mickey’s failings, but if not, Mike was better placed to question his son than Tony.

Of course, Tony the cop, probably shouldn’t have Antonio talk with Mike; Tony the cop should use Mickey’s weakness to break open the whole family.

Tony grimaced and parked the debate in his head to revisit.

Back to the thought that someone in the circus had provided information to help the abduction attempt.

The obvious suspects, Tony thought with grim amusement, were the small bunch of circus people who kept themselves separated from the main troupe. Tony had done passive surveillance for a couple of nights.

Carson had an old RV he shared with his son and daughter-in-law. He parked it on the far side of the circus away, close to the service entrance to the grounds. A second caravan parked nearby acted as Carson’s office. 

The Swordsman was parked right next to Carson. He had the dodgy Barney staying with him.  Tony figured both of them were as crooked as they came.  Duquesne wasn’t discreet about meeting up in the small hours at his trailer with locals that Tony suspected were the members of a gang who ran guns.

The clowns were parked a bit further away from Carson and the Swordsman. A small trio of caravans that formed their own tribe. Tony figured the weed they fenced and used was the reason for the distance from others. He had to encounter a clown at the circus who wasn’t stoned.

The final performer had valid reasons to stay away from the main crowd.

Indiran Kumar was the snake charmer. He and his trailer of venomous reptiles was parked well away from anyone else. The snakes might have been the main reason, but they also provided a good cover. Kumar was using them to hide his prostitution. Both nights, the snake charmer had brought a local man back to the trailer, set the trailer rocking, and exchanged money with them when he waved them goodbye. It all looked consensual, and both the men Tony had seen had seemed satisfied with their experience.

Tony figured Kumar wasn’t the criminal that he was looking for.

Carson rarely left the trailer, but his son went into town every night. Tony had asked Maureen to recommend someone to tail the guy and her pick, a solid old timer called Paddy had reported back that Wilbur Carson the Third was dining every night with a city councillor, David Blake.

Blake had worked for Hatton.

The whole thing stank.

Tony pulled into the parking lot and wasn’t altogether surprised to find Clint already waiting for him. The teenager bounded over and got into the car.

Tony frowned at the bruise on Clint’s cheek. “Whose fist did you run into?”

Clint shrugged awkwardly. “Can we just go?”

Tony set the car back into gear and drove out back onto the main road. “Have you been to the range in town before?”

Clint shook his head. “Too expensive.” He fiddled with the edge of his jacket. “It’s why Carson agreed to my setting up the one at the back.”

“I take it you didn’t have it when you started,” commented Tony, trying to obliquely establish when the practice site had been established.

“No,” Clint said, laughing, “not when I was seven!”  He looked out of the window. “I got it when I was twelve.”

“When you took top billing,” Tony stated.

Clint darted a guarded look at him.  “You look me up?”

Tony shook his head.  “You think Mike didn’t find out everything about you after you saved Laura last year?”

Clint huffed. “Didn’t think you knew about that.”

“I didn’t,” Tony said. “Frankie filled me in.”

“Explains why you stopped glaring at me,” Clint muttered. He darted another look at him. “You don’t think I was in on it?”

“Were you?” asked Tony surprised by the question.

“No!” Clint immediately denied, enough sincere passion in his voice that Tony would have been convinced even if he hadn’t ruled Clint out as a suspect. “The cops thought I’d help set it up.”  He looked down at his hands. “Even though I killed someone.”

“Ballistics say that the bullet wasn’t the cause of death,” Tony said. “According to the autopsy, the guy had a heart attack.”

“Because I shot him,” Clint muttered.

“Because he was in a high stress situation and got injured,” Tony countered. 

He stopped at a set of lights and took in Clint’s bowed head. He wondered if anyone had talked to the teen about what had happened outside of an interrogation room.

The lights changed. He set back off.

“How did you manage to shoot them?” asked Tony conversationally. “Police report was light on details.”

Clint shrugged again. He was staring out of the window. “It was getting dark. We were picking up arrows near the targets. Laura was still picking up hers when I started back towards the line. She yelled and…”

Tony glanced at him.

“…when I turned around, she’d been grabbed by a guy and was trying to free herself,” Clint intoned. “Two more guys were coming from the trees.” He shifted in his seat. “I dropped the arrows and tackled them before they could get to her. One of them wrestled me to the ground but he dropped a gun, and I picked it up.”

Tony remained silent.

“I…I shot him without thinking about it,” Clint intoned dully. “When I got up, the other guy had reached Laura and she was on the ground, pinned. I shot him in the leg and she managed to knock him out with a rock.” He rubbed his head. “She was pretty awesome.”

“Sounds like you were both awesome,” Tony said.

“I shot people,” Clint pointed out dryly.

“To save her,” Tony said firmly. “I’m not saying shooting people is a good thing, but you saw Laura was in trouble and you acted to save her and yourself. You think that guy wouldn’t have shot you if he could have gotten to the gun before you?”

Clint swallowed hard.

“It’s hard shooting someone,” Tony offered. “It never feels good, or it shouldn’t.” He sighed. “It’s when it starts to not matter that there’s a problem.”

“I’d only ever hit targets before and sparred in a ring,” Clint murmured, fingers rubbing on the edge of his jacket again. “It’s only fake fighting, you know, in the show.” He gave a dry laugh. “Laura was great.  She said she took lessons.”

“What about you?” Tony asked. “Who taught you?”

Clint looked at him. “Your info not tell you that?”

“There’s plenty about you I’m sure isn’t in a file,” Tony said.

Clint huffed. “Buck taught me some stuff and even Jack did before he threw me out. I spar with Gregor now.”

“Buck?” Tony asked.

“Jack’s old show partner,” Clint said. “He used to do my role in Jack’s show.  He was the one who trained me with the bow and arrow.”

“What happened to him?” asked Tony.

“I got up one day and he was gone. Carson said he got cancer and left,” Clint said matter-of-factly.

Tony indicated to head down the side road to the range. Something else to track down. He didn’t need Clint to tell him the rest of it – he’d already gotten the story from the other security guards and the Macaluso family members who had been there.

It had been the Kospovs who’d heard the shots and raised the alarm. Laura had also triggered her emergency signal that Maureen had stashed on her. Macaluso security had been on the scene within minutes; Clint and Laura already running back to the safety of the practice tents.

The police had turned up ten minutes later. A bored father had wandered to the back of the circus for a smoke and seen the whole thing; he’d called it in on a fancy mobile phone he had for his job. With the police involved Mike had allowed them to take over the official investigation, only stepping in when it became clear they were targeting Clint as a suspect.

“So, what’s your story?” asked Clint brusquely.

Tony didn’t react to the undercurrent of anger in Clint’s voice. He’d made the kid relive trauma and remember someone else who had abandoned him.

“Not much to tell,” Tony said, “ran out of luck where I was, decided to try Philadelphia.”

Which was a truth even if it wasn’t the whole truth.

“I got a job with Macaluso Security, manned the office front for a while,” Tony recounted. “Met Frankie and, well, Mike liked me so I kind of work security for him now.”

Clint looked away. 

Tony pulled into the range parking lot, empty except for the Macaluso car which would have brought Laura. 

“Where is everyone?” asked Clint, visibly perplexed.

“Mike bought out the range for the day,” Tony said simply. He killed the engine. “Come on, kid.  The range waits for no-one.”

The next hour flew by.

Watching Clint shoot was entertaining. Watching him shoot with Laura was hilarious. He figured that Madame Mystery might have been subtly match-making in her predictions but maybe she had a point. They made for a cute couple. They were competitive yet Laura always managed to inveigle Clint into teaching her how to shoot better. Tony stepped in a couple of times to help. 

Lunch was a picnic that Mike’s cook had put together. There was homemade fried chicken, rice salad and coleslaw along with wedges of steak pie. For dessert she’d packed them a blueberry cheesecake. 

Tony enjoyed the food. He watched carefully as Clint ate hungrily and efficiently, cleaning his plate twice, before he finished up the cheesecake when both Laura and Tony admitted defeat.

He left the kids sitting at the small desk outside the shooting gallery while he went to put their rubbish away. He made his way silently back to them and slowed when he heard them talking.  He stopped just at the corner of the corridors and shamelessly listened.

“…and then he reveals that he’s my brother!”

“You mean that asshole Barney is related to you?!” Laura sounded scandalised.

“I know, right?” Clint said. “I mean, I kind of remember him? My Mom called him Charlie. We’d would stop by sometimes and take him out of school. We’d spend the day with him.” He sighed. “But it’s all pretty vague.”

“It has to mean something that he tracked you down though?” Laura said kindly.

“I don’t know,” Clint said. “He was all smiles the first day. Then it was like I blinked, and he was being an asshole, cosying up to Jack and taking lessons from him. He keeps saying that he’s going to take my spot.”

There was a rude noise which adequately demonstrated what Laura thought about that.

“Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad?” Laura said almost too low for Tony to hear. “Then you could take up Uncle Mike’s offer to come and live with us.”

“I’m not going to work for your Dad,” Clint said immediately. “I told him that.”

Tony assimilated that for a moment.  It sounded like Steffano had made an offer but not the one Mike had wanted presented. Tony got it. Steffano was a top dog in a mob family. He had to appreciate the idea of having a kid on hand who knew how to shoot and was an outstanding sniper. 

But Tony couldn’t blame the kid for turning it down. At least that probably meant Clint wasn’t the sniper who’d killed Hatton.

“Maybe Uncle Mike could just pay off your debt with Carson if we told him about it,” Laura suggested. “I really don’t think he knows.”

“What? He didn’t stick it in whatever file he’s got on me?” Clint said bitterly. 

“If he knew he would have already paid it!” Laura insisted. “He hates kids being treated badly, and it’s not right that Carson made you agree to pay a fee for being allowed to stay with the circus when you just were a kid.”

Anger stirred in Tony’s gut.  f Carson had been making Clint pay for staying with the circus and likely giving him a pittance in wage if anything…it was a cruel trap to keep Clint in his place.

“I’ll be OK,” Clint paused. “Gigi helped me get my GED last month.” 

Laura squealed and there was a soft ‘oof’ which gave away she was likely hugging him.  “I’m so proud of you!”

Clint hummed. 

Tony could imagine him shrugging dismissively.

“It’s not so bad. Gigi and Gregor are great, and I figure another couple of years and I’ll be able to disappear into the Army,” Clint said.

“You’ll stay in touch with me,” Laura announced.

Clint sighed heavily. “You know your Dad warned me off.”

“But he knows we’re not like that,” Laura protested.

“Doesn’t matter,” Clint said, “the way he was speaking, I don’t think he even wants us to be friends anymore.”

Laura blew out another raspberry. “I love my Dad but he’s such a tool, sometimes.” She sighed. “It’s not just you, you know? He hates Antonio.”

“What’s his deal? Antonio?  He was pretty vague about he ended up working for your Uncle,” said Clint.

“I don’t really know.  He joined security and was just…a good guy. Charmed Maureen who doesn’t like anybody usually.  Frankie asked him out,” Laura began, “and then Uncle Mike just loved him. Frankie thinks Uncle Mike trusts him because Tonio didn’t just fuck her.”

“I regret asking,” Clint said, deadpan.

Laura giggled. “Personally, I think Uncle Mike knows more about Antonio than we do and whatever he knows, it’s made him trust him with the family. Like he knows that he’d never hurt us.”

Tony frowned. What Laura said made sense, but Tony was beginning to wonder if all Mike knew was Antonio’s backstory. The missing information in the Macaluso file lingered on his mind. He yanked his attention back to the talking teenagers.

“Makes sense,” Clint said slowly.

“Mom’s worried that Mike wants Antonio to take over the business rather than my Dad,” Laura said.

Tony blinked. He hadn’t heard that rumour before. He doubted it was true.

“Are you worried about it?” asked Clint.

“Not really,” Laura sighed. “I mean, I’m worried about Dad and I think he might be making some bad choices which might make Uncle Mike rethink things.”

“Like what?”

Good question, Tony thought.

“Dad, he’s…look, I know my family’s reputation, alright? I know there’s stuff which my Dad does which is…bad.”

Clint coughed.  “You talk like I don’t live with a whole circus full of criminals and hustlers, Laura.”

Laura laughed briefly, but Tony detected the note of shame that rang through it.

“You’re worried about your Dad?” prompted Clint.

“He has this new ‘business associate…’”

Tony could imagine the quotation marks.

“…and they’re weird, scary,” Laura said. 

There was a long pause.

“I don’t think they usually meet up when I am at my Dad’s, but…I was there a couple of months ago and…” her voice dropped. “It was scary.”

“Did they hurt you?” demanded Clint.

“No, just…” Laura cleared her throat. “They turned up late at night. I’d already gone to bed, but I heard the car outside and got up to take a look. The guy was blond, in a suit. One stayed with the car, the other two were muscle, big guys in military type clothing. They were armed.”

There was a moment of silence.

“I sneaked down the back stairs to listen in.”

“Laura!”

“I was worried!”

“You have the self-preservation skills of a gnat,” Clint muttered.

“Like you can talk,” Laura said tartly. “How many times have you almost got caught sneaking around Carson’s office?”

Clint sighed. “What did you hear?”

“Well, I couldn’t really hear anything because I couldn’t get into a good position without making a noise but the door to my Dad’s office was open a crack and…Dad looked scared the whole time,” Laura said.

It had scared her too. Tony could hear the fear in her voice.

“They made to leave so I hid in the hall closet, that’s when I heard them clearly,” Laura said.  “The guy said that they expected my Dad to do more to help them, that he had a lovely daughter and maybe the next time the circus wouldn’t be in town to stop them.” Her voice trembled. “I think they were behind trying to grab me.”

“I thought that Hatton guy was behind it,” Clint said.

“How do you know about that?” asked Laura, surprise clear in her voice.

“Your Dad told me when he offered me the job.”

“Oh,” said Laura. “Then you know someone shot him right after Uncle Mike warned him off?”

“No, but let me express how so very shocked I am to hear that,” Clint said dryly.

Laura sighed. “My family’s not like that, Clint.  We don’t kill people!”

“Maybe it wasn’t your family,” Clint said with a hint of apology, “you said you thought this new business associate of your Dad’s was ultimately behind the grab? Maybe he pulled the plug because Hatton failed.”

That was a good theory, Tony mused.

“Maybe.” She paused again as though considering how much to say. “Dad found me after they left.  He made me promise not to tell anyone, he said they’d kill him if I said anything.”

“Jesus, Laura,” Clint said. “I know what he said but I think you really need to talk to your Uncle Mike. It sounds like you have a rival group trying to muscle in and your Dad’s way in over his head.”

“Maybe,” Laura muttered. 

There was a sound of a chair being pushed back, the legs screeching over the linoleum. 

“Come on,” Laura demanded, “I want to shoot more things!”

Tony heard the door to the shooting gallery bang shut. He blew out a breath. Clint had been right in his summary of the situation and his advice, Tony mused.

He could see how it might have all unravelled.

It was telling that the rival boss had decided to put pressure on Steffano when most of the criminal element knew that Mike Macaluso ran Philadelphia. They’d clearly pegged that Steffano was the one running that side of the business for Mike, but that they hadn’t approached Mike himself meant nothing good for Mike. Maybe they’d deemed him too stubborn to negotiate with, or more likely they wanted him out of the way so they could take over.

Steffano would have laughed at them initially, Tony mused. Steffano was used to being the big fish under the protection of the Macaluso name. He would have brushed them off. They were definitely not the first to try something, and Steffano probably thought he’d be able to deal with them, the same way he’d dealt with other rivals. His refusal had led to their attempt to grab Laura to apply pressure to Steffano and Steffano had buckled with the threat to his daughter.

And the assassination of Hatton, Tony considered sharply. 

He could believe that Steffano was capable of ordering the hit, and he suspected Steffano had dangled the job in front of Clint, but his eavesdropping on the kids had revised his belief that Steffano actually had arranged Hatton’s death. He figured the theory that the rival boss had eliminated Hatton for failing was right – and it served a second purpose; it had shown Steffano what happened to people who didn’t comply.

But, how did the circus play into it? Someone had definitely told the bad guys where to find Laura and was it the same bad guys who’d taken the information connecting Hatton to the circus abduction attempt from Tony’s file, or someone loyal to the Macaluso family?

Tony shook his head. He had a lot more questions and not enough answers. He put the tangle out of his mind and went to check on Laura and Clint. 

Another hour of shooting went by before Tony called a halt; Clint had the muscle and stamina from long hours of practice for his performance to keep going, but Tony could see Laura was tiring. He herded the kids from the range building and toward their various vehicles.

Laura and Clint hovered awkwardly in front of her car before Laura sprang forward to hug him.

“I never said before, but…thank you,” Laura whispered, “for saving my life.”

Clint went bright red even as he raised his hands and hugged her back. “You saved yourself.”

Laura eased back and smiled brightly. “Damn right, I did.” She skipped into her car.

Tony nodded at Eli, her driver. He bustled Clint back into his own car. Clint was silent and Tony didn’t chatter, swallowing his own tendency to fill the empty air with stories and theories underneath Antonio’s calm stoicism.

Clint waited until they were parked before he released his seatbelt, his hand on the door lever, and turned to Tony. “Did you hear enough?”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “What…”

“I could see your reflection in the picture opposite where you were stood; it was right in my eyeline,” Clint said. He shrugged. “I see things.”

Tony sighed his dismay at being caught by a kid, although he guessed tracking his surroundings was second nature to Clint who had never known real safety. He caught Clint’s eyes, holding his gaze firmly. “What do you think?  Did I hear enough?”

Clint’s mouth twisted. He took a breath, his eyes guarded yet swimming with uncertainty. “Meet me at the practice range Thursday night after the performance.”

“Why Thursday?” asked Tony.

“Because that’s when they come,” said Clint. He bolted out of the car before Tony could ask him anything more.

Tony tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. 

Too many questions and not enough answers. 

He wasn’t waiting until Thursday to get them.

Next Part: Ace in the Hole: Part 2