Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

Graterford was like all penitentiaries; sterile yet soaked in a particular stench of bodies, anger and fear; hardlines decorated with barbed wire; a cacophony of voices underpinned by those who stewed in silence.

Tony had thrown the Macaluso name around with the warden to secure a visit with the men who had tried to abduct Laura.

His first interview was with Liam Kilpatrick, the man Laura had stabbed with an arrow. He’d chosen Kilpatrick rather than the older Kieran Bates, the other man arrested, since Kilpatrick was young and of an age with Tony. According to the file Mike had handed over, Liam had lived the backstory of foster homes Tony had constructed for Antonio. Unfortunately for Liam, there had been no interested Catholic priest who’d helped him into a community college and helped him secure him his first gig as a security guard. Tony was hoping he could get the information he wanted out of Liam without having to tackle Bates who was likely the tougher customer.

Liam shuffled into the room, his tall lanky body chained at both his hands and feet. The orange jumpsuit covered a long-sleeved top in institution black. The long blond hair that Liam had sported in his arrest photo had been exchanged for a buzz cut. He looked wan; tired and fearful. 

The chains were secured to the floor and the prison guard gave Tony a respectful nod, eyes full of curiosity before he left. Tony checked the camera bolted to the corner of the room and was pleased that the light was off.

“Good morning, Liam,” Tony began quietly, “my name is Antonio Bianchi, I work for Michael Macaluso.”

He hadn’t thought Liam could get any paler, but he did.

“A year ago, you took part in an abduction attempt on Mister Macaluso’s niece,” Tony continued. “You declared yourself guilty, were sentenced swiftly and you’re currently serving a ten-year sentence for attempted abduction, no chance of parole.”

Liam ducked his head, eyes pinned to the table.

“What is interesting is that nobody truly questioned you beyond your first arrest,” Tony said. 

Hatton’s involvement had come out of the investigation that Maureen had done on Mike’s instruction. 

He clasped his hands on the table. “I’m here to correct that inattention.  Do you understand?”

Liam nodded, not raising his gaze.

“Who approached you to take part?” asked Tony.

“Kee.”

The muffled response was barely audible.

“Kee being Kieran Bates,” Tony clarified. 

“Yes,” Liam mumbled, still not looking up.

Tony considered Liam thoughtfully. “Kee’s your foster brother, right? You were in the system together, same group home there at the end?”

Liam nodded slowly.

Tony hummed. “I had a brother like Kee. Steve looked out for me as much as he could.” He wasn’t sure Adler would appreciate their fraternity brotherhood being used to build rapport with a criminal, but it served its purpose.

Liam’s eyes flickered up and down.

Tony was beginning to doubt his approach though. Liam looked entirely too cowed. Maybe he should have talked to Kieran instead. He leaned back, regarding Liam evenly.

“Kee’s warned you not to talk,” Tony said confidently. “He told you that if you talk, you’re both dead.”

Liam’s head shot up, his frantic gaze meeting Tony’s before careening away to stare at the wall.

“So,” Tony said dryly, “I’ll talk and you just sit there.” He leaned forward again, clasping his hands back on the table. “Kee worked for Hatton. Bank records show Hatton was paying him for years, back to your foster brother days even. Hatton didn’t even hide it well.”

That was how Mike had traced Hatton’s involvement.

“I’m guessing Kee got you involved in the small stuff first,” Tony said. “Errands, message delivery, pick-up boy. Nothing too important, nothing that put you at risk, but it put money in your pocket.”

Liam’s lips trembled.

“Then maybe it was a grab,” Tony continued. “Someone else didn’t show for a job, Kee needed someone he could trust.” He waited a beat. “That was you.”

The pride that flickered across Liam’s face told Tony he was right.

“Hatton usually stuck to grabbing prostitutes and vagrants for his trafficking operation,” Tony said. “Maybe Kee told you Hatton was doing a community service, cleaning up the streets, giving them a new life.”

Liam’s gaze darted to him and away again.

“You know what I think?  I think you thought you were grabbing a circus performer,” Tony guessed. “I think you didn’t know it was Laura Macaluso.”

“We didn’t!” The words burst from Liam’s mouth as though he couldn’t contain them. He slammed his lips back together and defiantly looked at the table.

We.

Keiran Bates hadn’t known or had told Liam he hadn’t known. Maybe, Tony mused, he really hadn’t known. If Bates truly was protective of Kilpatrick, if he’d known they were about to kidnap a Macaluso, it was probable that Bates would have tried to keep his foster brother out of it.

Tony got to his feet. Kilpatrick wasn’t going to tell him anything more. He knocked on the door and returned to his seat.

The guard came in. “That was fast.”

Tony took in the too interested dark gaze and glanced at the badge name and noted it: J. Hendricks. He shrugged. “He’s too scared of his own shadow.  Let’s see if his buddy is more talkative.”

Hendricks grinned. He loosened the chains from the floor and tugged Liam to his feet.

Alarm was written all over Kilpatrick’s face, but he didn’t say a word as Hendricks dragged him out of the room.

Tony took the time it would take Hendricks to recover Bates to order up his thoughts and consider his approach.

Hendricks escorted Bates in, pushing him into the chair and tying up the chains. He gave another nod to Tony and left.

Bates was Kilpatrick’s physical opposite; small, compact, dark hair buzzed short. A gang tattoo covered half his neck.

Bates looked at him defiantly.  “I’m not telling you anything, pig.”

Bates lost points for his lack of originality.

Tony grinned sharply. “I work for Michael Macaluso.”

Bates flinched but rallied. “Still not telling you anything.”

Tony’s smile turned grim. “Then I’ll talk.” He got to his feet and walked over to the small-barred window. He turned around to look at Bates. “Hatton was a trafficker and you were one of his crew.”    

Bates huffed. “I did jobs for him, doesn’t make me a member of his crew.”

Downplaying his involvement. Wise.

Tony shrugged. “Hatton had a meeting shortly before the circus job,” he flicked imaginary lint from his sleeve, his eyes still intent on Bates. “You weren’t there, but you knew of it.  A meeting between Hatton and a well-dressed man who was escorted by military types. You pegged them as trouble.”

Bates glared at him, but there was no hint of smug denial that Tony was wrong.

“Good instincts,” Tony commented.

He walked around the cell to behind Bates, forcing him to swivel to keep eyes on him. 

“Hatton didn’t tell you the girl you were grabbing was Laura Macaluso,” Tony said bluntly, facing Bates. “He didn’t tell you that it wasn’t a job for him but for his new friends.”

Bates was silent but there wasn’t a hint of objection his face just defiance.

“You know how I know? You wouldn’t have brought Liam into it if he had,” Tony commented softly.

Bates pressed his lips together, a furious expression on his face as though he hated being caught in the act of caring for someone.

“Coming after a member of the Macaluso family so blatantly? You had to know that would cop you nothing but trouble,” Tony waved at the room. “Quickly confessing your sins and doing your time? Why? Because you think jail is safer.”

Bates’ eyes glanced toward the door and back so fast Tony almost missed it.

“Or rather you thought jail was going to be safer,” Tony surmised as he paced to the door and stared at it rather than Bates. “Until someone got a message to you.” He spun back around, catching the surprise on Bates’ face that Tony had worked out so much.

“You think you’re a clever guy?” Bates snarled, jabbing a finger at him. “You know nothing.”

“I know you’re not scared of me and so you’re not scared of Mike,” Tony said walking back to the table and sliding back into his chair. “But then Mike has a reputation for running people out of town, he doesn’t kill them like his old man used to do.” He held Bates’ eyes. “Yet Hatton ended up with his brains splattered on a pavement and someone told you if you talked, if you said anything, you and Kilpatrick are next.”

Bates almost growled, turning his whole body away to face the window.

“I’ve already told Hendricks that Liam didn’t tell me anything because he was too scared,” Tony said quietly, taking in the way Bates’ shoulders dropped minutely. “I’ll tell him you didn’t talk either if you answer three questions for me.”

Bates looked back at him, his unsaid ‘what?!’ screaming out of his face.

“Did Hatton know who the target was?” asked Tony.

Bates sighed. He rubbed his chin, closed his eyes and nodded quickly.

“Was Hatton happily signing up to try and take over Philadelphia with these guys?”

Another nod.

“Were they known to him?”

A quick shake of the head.

Tony hummed. “Go back to glaring at me.”

Bates scowled.

Tony got up and banged on the door. 

Hendricks came in.

Tony waved a hand at Bates, letting frustration, anger and derision show on his face. “This one’s too stubborn to talk it seems.” He met Bates’ gaze. “Last chance to change your mind? Mister Macaluso won’t make this offer again.”

Bates flipped him off.

Hendricks rolled his eyes in apparent solidarity with Tony. “I hope you’ll convey my cooperation to Mister Macaluso.”

“Of course,” Tony said. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to show his appreciation.”

Hendricks smiled darkly and yanked Bates out of the room.

Tony followed him out. There was a courtesy visit to the warden who was assured of an anonymous donation to his pension fund before Tony escaped.

He drove away from the prison and was back in Philadelphia city limits before he parked up in a deserted alley and picked up the car phone.

“Macaluso Security,” Maureen barked.

“Hey,” Tony greeted her. “I need a priority background check.”

“Who?”

“A prison guard named Hendricks,” Tony answered. “Initial J.”

“Threat?” asked Maureen tersely.

“He’s working for the opposition,” Tony said simply.

“Opposition?” Maureen snapped the word out.

“Opposition,” confirmed Tony grimly.

Maureen swore. “Does Mike know?”

“It’s why he’s got me looking at it,” Tony said.

Because he figured Mike had worked it out when Hatton had tried to grab Laura; when Hatton had ended up dead; when his nephew began doing things Mike didn’t know about and there were walls around Carson’s Carnival that shouldn’t have been there.

Maureen sighed. 

He heard her light a cigarette and grimaced. The office always stank of cigarettes. 

“If it’s the same guy, Jan Hendricks used to work for Macaluso Security. I fired him just over a year ago,” Maureen said. “Was he in his forties? Dark hair, pock-faced? Beady little eyes?”

“Sounds like him,” Tony said, amused at the description. “Why’d you fire him?”

“He assaulted Bobby’s new admin,” Maureen said. “He tried to shrug it off as a misunderstanding but there was nothing misunderstood about the way he’d trapped her in the building and forced her to agree to a date as payment for him opening the door,” she cut herself off with a disgusted snort. “She called Rebecca when she got home, reported the incident in the same breath as resigning.”

“She didn’t want to press charges?”

“She just wanted out,” Maureen sighed. “Mike arranged for her to go home to Iowa and set her up with a nest egg while she found another job.”

“And Hendricks?”

“Steffano was sent to round to fire him and tell him to get out of town,” Maureen noted dispassionately. “He got.” She blew out a breath. “Personally I voted for castrating the guy.”

“Was that his first incident?” asked Tony seriously.

“I couldn’t find anything before that,” Maureen said, “although a couple of the girls did come forward to say he had tried to pressure them into dates, got a little too into their personal space.  They said he’d back off though when they said no. Not sure why he thought he’d get away with it; he knew we had cameras on.”

“Hmmm.”

Maybe he was approached back then, Tony mused. The idea that Mike had some competition and Hendricks was going to be on the other side might have given the man a false sense of confidence. He looked at the clock on the dash. Hendricks’ shift had just finished.

“You have a current address for him?  Bar he liked to hang out in?”

“No address, but he favoured The River D Bar off the ‘ninety-five,” Maureen said. “Watch yourself, Tonio. Call if you need back-up and call me once you’re home safe.”

“Roger, that,” Tony murmured. 

He changed coats in the parking lot, swapping out his smart woollen coat for an old sports jacket he’d kept in the boot. He wriggled out of his suit pants and into worn jeans. He stuck an old Baltimore Ravens cap on his head and slid on a pair of tinted glasses. He checked nobody was watching and changed out the plates for Baltimore ones.   

He headed to the bar. 

Inside, he bought himself a beer, ordered some wings, and tucked himself into a corner to watch the game playing on the big screen.

Over the next hour, Tony poured the majority of his first beer into the dying plant he’d sat beside. He’d just ordered another when two men entered. They screamed former military; Marine haircuts, dog-chains, and old surplus fatigues. Tony noted bulges under their jackets which gave away that they were definitely carrying. They went straight to a booth at the back.

Tony stayed where he was. His position gave him a good view. He focused on his chicken wings ostensibly ignoring the men. 

Ten minutes later, Hendricks entered and paid Tony no attention. He sauntered into the bar, ordered a beer, and headed for the back booth. He watched as Hendricks greeted the two men cheekily. He accepted a fat envelope from them but seemed to be arguing. One of the burly guys finally gave in, shrugging at his companion’s appalled expression.

The two men stood, striding out of the bar as efficiently as they came in. Hendricks scrambled to follow them.

Tony drank down a gulp of beer, pushing his empty wing plate aside. He headed out just in time to see the large SUV with the men and Hendricks leaving the parking lot. Tony got into his car unhurriedly and followed them, taking the ‘ninety-five towards the airport. 

Following a car was never easy when it was a lone job. With other cops, cars could trade off and reduce the risk of being spotted as a tail. 

Tony was very careful not to be seen by the SUV, staying behind other vehicles for the most part and only just keeping it in sight. When the SUV turned off and headed into an industrial area by the airport, Tony swore under his breath knowing it was going to be more difficult not to be seen. He made the decision to keep driving as though his destination was the airport rather than following them immediately onto the industrial park.     

The airport turn came up and Tony circled back. Even in the dark, it didn’t take him long to find the SUV parked in front of a well-lit warehouse.

Tony drove past and took an old service road to give himself a vantage point on a small hill overlooking the warehouse front. He parked the car behind a closed small airline office building and moved out, discarding the hat and glasses, but taking the camera that he had stashed in the glovebox. 

A short walk took him to a group of trees he could hide behind and still have a good view. He settled behind one of the trees and frowned as he took in the neat row of black SUVs and two sedans. Ten cars in total. If he factored on all cars being full, he was looking at an operation of around forty people.

And this was a single location.

There could be others.

There would be others, Tony thought coldly logical as he took pictures. This was a well-organised strike to take out Mike Macaluso as the power in Philadelphia.

Tony questioned himself on how he would plan it. How would he take Philadelphia from Mike if that was the mission?

He’d have four teams. One located in each quadrant of the city. Consolidate control over the crime that Mike had either withdrawn from or never pursued like prostitution, drugs, and guns. 

Maybe that explained the circus. Mike had stopped doing the kind of business with Carson that Mike’s father had done with the circus. Carson had scrabbled to find others to fill the gap.

Clowns took point on the drugs and Duquesne on guns. Kumar looked like an independent hooker but maybe there was a connection into the city’s prostitution…no.  Hatton had been that connection. He’d had an arrangement with Carson, not for prostitution but for human trafficking. 

Tony wondered how many people Hatton had ordered his team grab from the circus; vagrants wanting to sneak into the tents for the night for shelter, hookers looking to make a quick buck, and neglected kids of all kinds sneaking in for some fun. God. He should probably get Baker to investigate missing people around the time the circus was in town.

Previous grabs.

That’s how Hatton’s team had known the layout when they’d gone in for Laura.

And this new gang, they were consolidating control over the crime the circus participated in and Carson had acquiesced. It explained the walls Mike had ran into because he wasn’t the one ‘protecting’ the circus, Mike’s rivals were the real protectors.   

OK, Tony thought, content that he’d connected the circus to the rival operation. 

“Because that’s when they come.”   

Clint’s words echoed in Tony’s head. Clint had seen them. Damn it. 

Tony sighed. If he was right, Clint was in grave danger. There was no doubt in his mind that if the gang below knew of Clint’s knowledge. they would move to eliminate him. Or force him to work for them because a kid with his skills had value. It was a surprise they hadn’t already tried to inveigle him into their op. But maybe, Tony considered, while the kid was pulling in money for the circus and not a threat to them, he was probably protected under whatever arrangement existed with Carson. 

But possibly not for much longer, Tony deduced. They’d already circumvented Mike’s offer of protection to Clint; already tried to get him to work for Steffano. It was all too probable that they were just waiting on Clint being a little older before making their move on him.    

Tony stilled his need to go check on the kid.

Clint was safe enough right at that moment. Given the hour, he would be finishing up his Wednesday night performance. Tony would check on him the next day, call off whatever Clint had decided to show him for Clint telling him and giving the kid an exit plan.

Back to the problem in front of him, Tony mused. Consolidating power was one step in removing Mike from power, the next step would be to start bribing the authorities; pay them better than Mike and the preferred option there. That was likely in progress.

Step three: push on a weak spot to take over the family from within. Mickey might be the weakest spot, but it was Steffano who ran the business which mattered. Steffano’s compliance was part carrot (the offer to put him in Mike’s place), part stick (the safety of his daughter only guaranteed by Steffano’s good behaviour).

Step four had to be a decisive move of some kind and snap – Mike would be gone.

Tony closed his eyes briefly.

The gang had to be on ‘step four.’

Tony sighed. He liked Mike. And for all Mike’s criminality, the man did a lot of good with his power. Is good done in the name of evil still good?

A question Antonio should take to a real priest, Tony thought with a touch of hysteria.

There was no doubt in his mind though that Mike was better than the alternative the gang in the warehouse below represented.

Tony wondered what else they were waiting for in order to oust Mike. 

Maybe, he considered, maybe it wasn’t just a linear plan. Maybe it was a two-pronged attack because relying on a family member to betray Mike was a risky move, even with the threat against a loved one.

Tony tapped the camera against his leg as he considered the options.

Killing Hatton had given the gang a different type of an opening. The police had decided to stop looking the other way where Mike and the Macaluso family were concerned. If the gang were wise, they would have used the police operation to take-out Mike for them. But Mike had then identified and politely fired the two undercovers who’d tried to infiltrate his organisation.

Tony frowned. 

Knowledge of his own undercover situation, his exact identity and position, was limited to Baker and the Chief of Police even if there was a wider taskforce providing support. Ostensibly they had wanted to keep the operational security tight to prevent Mike learning about it from another source. But Baker had let slip about a month into Tony’s op that his Captain had sent in another undercover operative. Baker had informed him as a courtesy in case Tony identified them or if he was with Mike when Mike found out.

Was that gambit part of the gang’s plan or was his own the gang’s gambit? The question made his stomach turn. 

He liked Baker. From his own research, Baker was a dutiful cop with commendations and a solid arrest record as a Detective. He really didn’t want to think the man was dirty.

Tony grimaced. 

Someone hadn’t put Laura’s abduction into his file.

He shifted back as a flash of movement at the warehouse caught his eyes. He raised the camera and zoomed in for a better look.

Hendricks was dragged outside by the two men he’d arrived with. His arms were secured behind his back, struggling wildly.

Tony snapped a picture.

Another man emerged from the warehouse.

A shiver went down Tony’s spine.

The man was dressed similarly in old Army fatigues as the two dragging Hendricks, but he also had a tac-vest strapped over his jacket and was very visibly armed. Unlike them his dark hair was a non-military length, falling in a choppy cut to his shoulders.

He was a good-looking man, Tony mused, with delicate features which somehow added up to an attractive manly visage. He reminded Tony of someone, but he couldn’t quite remember who. He frowned at the glove the man was wearing on his left hand since there was no glove on his right. He didn’t think the oddity was because the guy was a Michael Jackson fan.

Tony stilled as Hendricks was forced to his knees, frantically talking – begging, Tony realised.  Henricks was begging for his life.

It was going to be an execution.

And he was in no position to stop it, Tony told himself sternly, fighting the urge to intervene. If he tried to save Hendricks, they’d both end up dead. Being a witness and making sure the guilty went down for the crime was the best he could do. 

The gloved man drew a gun and fired it.

Hendricks’ body slumped to the ground.

Tony blew out a breath and lowered the camera.

The two men who’d dragged Hendricks into the open, picked up his body and carried him to a car. They dumped him inside the trunk and went back inside.

The gloved man stayed out for a long moment, staring at the spot where Hendricks had fallen. Suddenly he raised his head and looked towards the hill where Tony was hidden.

Tony froze, even holding his breath. He was glad the camera was pointed at the ground and couldn’t catch the moonlight. He was beyond grateful for the dark which concealed him from view.

Glove Man stared for two beats of Tony’s heart before he turned around and headed back inside.

Tony counted to a thousand and slowly moved back to his car. He gunned the engine and left. It was definitely time to leave.

His head was a mess when he got back to Antonio’s apartment. 

He stripped and dove under the shower, letting the water wash away his guilt and shame. It wasn’t the first time that he’d witnessed an execution undercover. He’d seen two gang executions in his time at Peoria. It had been a minor miracle that he hadn’t been asked to perform one of them. He’d become Antonio Bianchi thinking that he might have to do things that were morally questionable, maybe even kill someone to establish his credentials. It had been a relief to read through the Macaluso file and realise Mike generally eschewed violence.

He washed himself clean and stepped out of the shower, reaching for his towels.

Things had become very complicated.

He was certain that Mike and the Macaluso family were in danger from the violent rivals who had clearly started an incursion of Philadelphia long enough ago to feel comfortable in leaning on Steffano, and potentially orchestrating a police operation.

The sensible thing to do would be to ask for an extraction yet Tony was also certain his position was compromised. He wasn’t sure extraction wouldn’t lead to a bullet in his own head.

Tony sighed.

The gang needed to be taken down. If Tony left without stopping them, they’d overrun Philadelphia and hurt a lot of innocent people. Which meant contemplating a move that Tony really didn’t want to contemplate but then…

Mike had to know he was under threat. Hadn’t Tony said as much to Maureen? And if Mike knew he had to have a plan. Tony had planned out how he’d take Philadelphia from Mike, but maybe he should consider how Mike would counter-attack…

A knock on his door had him tensing.

It was late and very few people knew of his address. He hurried over to the apartment door and sneaked a peek through the spyhole.

Maureen stared back at him with an arched eyebrow.

Think of the Devil, Tony thought half-hysterically. At least it wasn’t Mike.

Tony opened the door. “Maureen, what are doing here?”

“I distinctly remember telling you to call me when you were done,” Maureen said, pushing inside. She dumped her large handbag on the sofa and waved at him. “Go and put some clothes on, Antonio.  I’m not Francesca.”

Tony fought the urge to blush and headed into his bedroom. He hurriedly towelled himself dry enough and yanked on sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He slid his back-up pistol into the kangaroo pouch. He liked Maureen but he was beginning to question whether he could trust anyone.

Maureen was at the tiny island which separated his kitchen from his living space.  She was puffing on a cigarette, tapping the ash into a saucer she’d liberated from his open shelving.

Tony grimaced. “This is a non-smoking apartment, Maureen.”

She waved a hand at him. “Give me a break, Tonio.” She dragged a hand through her hair.

Tony leaned back on the back of his sofa and stuffed his hands in the kangaroo pocket. “This feels like more than you just checking in on me.”

“That’s because it is,” Maureen said with a harsh laugh. She stabbed her cigarette out and turned to him, almost vibrating. “Mike has you looking at a rival operation moving into town.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed on her lowered gaze. He nodded. “He has.”

“And you’re sure Hendricks is in their pocket?” Maureen asked sharply.

Tony’s lips twisted into a facsimile of a smile. “He was.”

Her gaze flew up to meet his frantically. “Was?”

Tony nodded. “They executed him.” He shrugged. “I figure he was trying to leverage my visit to the jail into better terms for himself.” He waited a beat. “They killed him for overstepping.”

Maureen blew out a breath. She raised her hands to her face, trembling. “God.”

“Tell me why you’re here, Maureen,” Tony ordered.

Maureen reached for the pack of cigarettes she’d discarded and hurriedly lit one. She took a large drag. 

Tony didn’t say a word.

“After Laura’s abduction, I found the link between Hatton and the men involved,” she began, “and two days later the man steps out of a restaurant after meeting with Mike and ends up dead on the pavement.” She gave another harsh laugh. “I marched myself over to Mike, demanded to know if he’d done it.  He denied it.”

“It definitely wasn’t him,” Tony said.

Maureen deflated. She took another puff of her cigarette, tapped the ash away. “I thought so until Steffano came round the same night, told me to mind my business, that Hatton had gotten what he deserved.”

“You thought Steffano had done it with Mike’s blessing,” Tony realised.

“A federal agent approached me about week after that,” Maureen said. “Blonde, smart. His partner was in a knock-off suit, former military, didn’t say much. He said that they were working jointly with the Philadelphia PD to stop organised crime in the city. They needed someone on the inside of the family.”

Tony kept one hand on his gun and used the other to rub at his forehead. “You agreed to be their insider on Mike.”

The other undercover.

He could understand her thinking. He could guess where her confession was going too. He tightened his grip on his own gun.

“Look, Tonio, I’m a former cop,” Maureen stabbed the cigarette out. “I’ve always known Mike’s business wasn’t fully on the up, but he seemed to be doing a lot of good and I needed the job.  He guaranteed me I would never have to do anything which compromised me.” She sighed.  “And then Becca went and fell for Bobby, and I knew we were too entangled to escape the net if it ever came to it.”

“You made a deal,” stated Tony. “You, Becca and Mary out in one piece when they finally brought the net down on Mike and the rest of the family.”

Maureen hugged herself tightly, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. “Agent Stand called me after you did.”  Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “They asked me what your interest was in going to the jail and talking with Bates and Kilpatrick…and after what you had said on the phone, I just knew.”

“They’re part of the opposition not agents,” Tony concluded.

Maureen nodded unhappily. Her hands dropped down, one disappearing behind the island.  “Although maybe Stand really is an agent, his badge looked real enough, even if the agency isn’t well-known.” She grimaced. “Maybe he’s not, but I figure I’ve made a deal with the Devil and if my babies are to be safe…” Her hand came back up with a gun. She was shaking as she pointed it at him.

Tony kept still. “They tell you to take me out?”

She shook her head. “They just want me to convince you to leave, to drop looking into things.”  She looked at him imploringly. “You don’t owe Mike Macaluso anything, Tonio. Mike might have given you the assignment, but I was the one who hired you in the first place. Go back to Baltimore and forget about Philadelphia.”

“I can’t do that,” Tony said softly. “These guys are bad news, Maureen. They’re going to hurt people. You think they’ll leave you alive once they get what they want? Or Becca? Mary?”

His hand gripped his gun tightly as Maureen breathed in sharply.

“They shot Hatton to show what happened to someone who failed them,” Tony continued.  “They shot Hendricks because he was nothing but a pawn to them. They probably have someone already lined up to take his place in ensuring Kilpatrick and Bates keep their mouths shut.” He kept his gaze locked on her. “They do not value the people who help them, Maureen.  They do not honour their deals.”

Her lips trembled but she didn’t deny his words.

“Mike’s a lot of things, Maureen,” Tony continued, “he’s a mob boss and he’s dangerous, but he’s not them.”

Maureen’s hand wavered at that and…she set the gun down on the island with a clatter. She dropped her head into her hands. 

Tony breathed out. He slowly got to his feet and took hold of the gun, placing it out of Maureen’s reach.

She sobbed brokenly into her hands. “What the fuck do I do now?”

And maybe Tony considered as he tentatively pulled her into a hug, he’d be able to answer her once he’d answered that damn same question for himself.

o-O-o

The Macaluso estate was up by Chestnut Hill.

Tony had kept his entry quiet, coming in through the family entrance to the West rather than the front gate. The sun was barely up, a thin yellow light splitting the earth from the grey and lilac sky as he made his way to the guest cottage Mike had built out by far side of the estate with the view of Wissahickon Creek.

The spare key was under a rock in the pretty front garden. Tony used it, made a call on the internal phone sitting in the hall and ignored the sheet covered furniture and stale air as he headed into the kitchen. He set the coffee machine running because God knew he needed it after the night he’d had.

He headed back outside with a mug and sat at the wrought iron garden table with his face lifted to the weak sunlight. 

He was just done with his drink when Mike turned up…with Betty.

Who bustled over with a basket of muffins, fresh apple juice and a thermos of better coffee.

Which OK, Tony could roll with that.

Mike settled Betty into one chair and took the other. They looked like any other mature couple enjoying a breakfast together. They were dressed comfortably in navy pants combined with shirts under matching blue sweaters.

“This is all very clandestine,” Betty commented cheerfully, her white hair pulled back into its usual bun and her large blue-eyes giving her a harmless look that only an idiot would fall for.  She nudged a fresh mug of coffee in Tony’s direction. “I haven’t been to a secret rendezvous since Mike courted me.”

Tony cracked a smile. “You and Mike had a secret rendezvous?”

“Many,” Betty confided ignoring her husband’s sheepish expression, “my father really didn’t approve, you know.” She patted Tony’s hand. “Now you said you had news?  Mike said you sounded very serious.”

Tony wrapped his hands around his mug of coffee and looked over at Mike. He took a deep breath and took the biggest risk of his life. “Was it your idea to hire me from Peoria?”

There was a beat of silence.

Betty smiled. “It was mine.”

“It was your idea to bring in an undercover cop,” Mike sighed, picking up his own coffee, “I was the one who had William choose Officer DiNozzo.” 

William being William Hanlon, the Chief of Police.

He raised his mug. “How did you work it out?”

“I figured out that you had to know about the threat you were under, and then I considered how you might have planned your counter-attack,” Tony said bluntly. “You brought me in to take them down.”

Mike nodded, his blue eyes glinting with satisfaction. “The Philadelphia cops were too hung up on me as a suspect.”

“We needed fresh eyes,” Betty said. She nudged the muffins closer to him.

Tony took one of the banana ones and placed it in front of him. “They have cops in their pockets.”

Mike nodded. “The Chief is mine and Baker’s straight as an arrow for the record. Man really thinks that you’re undercover to dismantle the Macaluso family business.”

Tony felt a flicker of relief at that. 

“But there are a lot of cops who are no longer in our pockets,” Mike finished. “Baker’s former partner included. Baker trusts him too much even if he hasn’t shared your identity with him He thinks Barry is the undercover.”

Barry was a security guard who’d joined at the same time as Tony. He was part of Steffano’s usual mob and the kind of low level enforcer the cops had placed as undercovers before.

“Realising from Francesca that you were missing the information on Laura’s abduction rather explained why your approach to gaining a position inside the family was so slow,” Betty said with a hint of reproach in her voice. “We had to throw Francesca at you to pull you into the inner circle.”

Tony’s eyes widened at the realisation that Frankie was in on it. He’d pegged her as being honest in her desire to go into law. It was disturbing to realise he might have badly misread her.

“Not that she minded,” Mike commented plucking a chocolate muffin from the basket and huffing when Betty replaced it with blueberry.

“Not that we minded,” Betty said. “You and Francesca make a lovely couple. The grandchildren would be gorgeous.”

So, they suspected Baker’s partner of screwing with the file, Tony deduced, firmly ignoring the heated blush crawling over his skin. He shoved his angst about Frankie away and took a bite of muffin to cover himself. He sipped his coffee and made a deliberate change of subject. 

“I put Maureen on a bus out of town this morning.”

Mike froze in the act of tearing up his muffin. “Maureen?”

Betty tutted under her breath. “I would never have thought her part of it.  We’ve always treated her well.”

“They spooked her with the Hatton kill,” Tony explained. “Made her think through Steffano that you had ordered it. Turning a blind eye to the criminal part of your business was easy until she thought you’d returned to your father’s way of running it.”

“I told you hiring a former cop with a pristine record to run security would bite you on the ass,” Betty said tartly.

“You did,” Mike sighed. 

“That and they promised to keep Rebecca and Mary out of the net when it fell.  She didn’t feel like she could say no,” Tony offered in mitigation.

“I guess we can understand and forgive her for that,” Betty said sharply. “We want to protect the family too.”

Mike stared at Tony. “You put her on a bus already?”

“They like killing off their pawns when they become liabilities or less useful,” Tony said bluntly.  “It wouldn’t surprise me if Steffano was next.”

Mike exchanged a knowing look with Betty and sighed. “Steffano is with them then.”

“They threatened Laura, offered him power,” Tony said.

Betty sipped her coffee, a cold look in her eyes. “Steffano has always wanted more power.”  She softened. “And he isn’t a good man, but he is a good father.”

“She’s the only good thing which came out of his marriage to Gabrielle,” Mike agreed. He turned to Tony. “Is it only Steffano and Maureen in the family?”

Tony shrugged. “Mickey’s a weak spot, but you knew that. He has no head for business. He let Maureen run everything and I think they likely have the circus lady keeping him distracted.”

“Carson’s their man, I take it,” Mike said.

Tony pointed at him, pinning him with a frank stare. “You knew that already.”

Mike nodded. “The others?”

Tony shook his head.  “Maureen claimed that Bobby, Rebecca and Mary were left alone under the deal she made.” He held up a hand when Mike went to say something. “I haven’t had time to validate that. I would be surprised if someone around them isn’t tied to the people trying to oust you.”  He rather figured it was the replacement admin who’d taken over from the girl Hendricks had pressured into resigning. “I’d be surprised if Bono or Frankie don’t have someone shadowing them.”

Betty looked furious.

Tony sighed. “What was your plan, Mike?” He couldn’t quite keep the exasperation out of his voice. “Because it had to be more than just hire an undercover cop who’ll take them down.”

Mike and Betty exchanged another look.

Betty cleared her throat. “Tell him.”

Mike set his mug down. “Two years ago, I knew someone was starting to move into the city. The drug rings and gunrunners started to get organised, started meeting way out of where we operated.” He got up and paced over to look out towards the main house. “A couple of the officials started smirking when we met, like they knew something I didn’t. Then at the circus that year, Carson went completely squirrelly when he rolled into town.”

“They operated mainly from out of town back then,” Betty recounted. “No overt moves.”

Mike pushed his hands into his pants’ pockets and rocked back on his heels as he turned to the table. “I pulled in a few trusted people and began to investigate thinking they were just another New Jersey mob getting too many ambitions.” He grimaced. “These guys are not the usual run-of-the-mill mob outfit, Antonio.”

“Tony,” Tony corrected. “What do you mean?”

“Shell companies within shell companies,” Mike said. “My old PI before they killed him traced some of the money back to Germany and some group called Thule, although they supposedly got eaten up into Hitler’s Nazi Germany.” 

“They’re coordinated like a militia,” Betty added.

“Or a cult terrorist group,” Tony said. Thule rang a bell; why did it ring a bell?

Mike pointed at him. “Exactly.” He sat back down. “Just after the circus left that time, they finally bought up an industrial building near the river. Moved in and paid me a visit.” He picked up his cup. “Either I was with them, or I would be killed. I told them that I was Macaluso and Philadelphia was mine. I told them if they wanted a war, they had a war.”

“They tried to run us off the road two days later,” Betty said.

“Our security contained the situation,” Mike replied reaching for her hand. “They lost all four of the men involved in the attempt.” He paused and held Tony’s gaze. “We blew up their operation not twenty-four hours later.” He smiled sharply. “The authorities ruled that there had been an unfortunate gas leak.”

“They went back underground, rebuilt from the outside,” Tony said, his mind racing. “Manoeuvred so you didn’t know when they established new bases inside the city.”

Mike nodded, grimacing. “For at least six months I thought I’d run them off.”

“Until Laura,” Tony realised.

“Realised it had their fingerprints when we connected the two men to Hatton. Then they sniped Hatton,” Mike said, “and I figured war was still on.”

Tony frowned. “Why didn’t they snipe you?” He waved away Mike’s answer as he realised it for himself. “You hurt them. They want you to watch the destruction of your empire, of your family. They don’t want you dead now; they want you to suffer.”

“That’s our theory,” Betty said quietly.

Mike squeezed her hand lightly. “I need to protect my family.” He shifted to hold Tony’s gaze. “I want to make sure they survive this.”

Even if Mike didn’t, Tony realised.

“I figured I needed better weaponry to take them down,” Mike said.

“Clint Barton part of that?” asked Tony caustically.

Mike sent him a chiding look. “More like I was trying to keep a weapon out of their hands. That kid is already lethal.” He gestured at Tony. “You’re the weapon I wanted. You are my ace in the hole. The way you took down that operation in Peoria was a thing of beauty.”

Tony lifted an eyebrow at the compliment. “I’m not sure how effective I’ve been since I thought I was coming in to take you down.”

“You’ve definitely gotten closer than anyone else,” Mike said dryly. 

Tony shrugged. “You let me get close.”

Mike leaned back. “I’m not going to lie, Tony. I like you. A part of me was hoping I could win you away from your chosen profession. You’re the person I’d choose to run the family business when I’m gone. You’re smart, dedicated. I’d happily adopt you as a son, welcome you as Francesca’s husband.”

Betty arched her eyebrows and mouthed the word ‘grandbabies’ at Tony.

“But I knew your lines when I told the Chief he could tell Baker he could appoint you,” Mike shrugged. “If we take them out and I go with them? As long as the family survives, I’ll be content.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and wished away the headache building behind his eyes.  He shook his head. “Why do they want Philadelphia so badly?” 

Maureen hadn’t known and he’d drawn a blank.

Mike smiled. “Two years ago we entered a bid to win a Stark Enterprises contract. They’d lease land and old factories, invest money to renovate and remodel them into factories suitable for Stark’s purposes. Stark would also invest in the surrounding city economy – housing, community grounds, hospitals, infrastructure. Whoever wins, wins big.”

“It began two years ago?” checked Tony.

Mike nodded. “It’s not unusual for this kind of procurement to last a while. Stark has to assure God knows how many federal and state authorities that it’s all above board.”

“Not to mention, there was a six month timeline given for the cities to deliver their initial proposals,” Betty said crisply, “and then the shortlisting and more information requests, a presentation…” she shrugged. “It’s a long process.”

“But these guys think you’re going to win,” Tony realised. 

“Maybe,” Mike said. “But I can’t see them making Stark do anything he doesn’t decide he wants to do. Kid’s young, but he’s as stubborn if not more than his father where business is concerned.  He’s been tough on the panels; he’s got the smarts to see right through any bluster.”

“When does the process complete?” asked Tony, the sense that he was onto something fizzing through him like a shot of adrenalin.

“Next month,” Mike confirmed.  “There’s a dinner in Los Angeles at the new Stark Headquarters.  All the bidders are invited to attend; the winning city will be announced at the dinner.”

That was the timeline, Tony realised. “They must have someone in Stark Enterprises,” he said out loud. “Someone who thinks they can make Philadelphia the winning city.” 

“Or all of the cities are on the hit list for their takeover,” Mike countered. “You might be interested to know that Carson’s Carnival goes through all three shortlisted, and all but two of the ones who initially bid.”

A cold shiver went down Tony’s spine.

Clint’s words echoed through him again. 

“Because that’s when they come.”

Thursdays. After midnight. Not just when they were in Philadelphia but every Thursday.

Clever Clint who was in so much more danger than he probably knew.

He still didn’t know if he was doing the right thing calling Mike out on his plan to use him; on working with Mike to take down the dangerous group muscling in. Baker would have a fit if he ever found out the truth. 

But Tony couldn’t see a lot of options. 

Betty nudged the muffin basket back towards him. “Have another, Anthony.  You’re going to need your strength.” Sympathetic understanding shone from her eyes as she caught his gaze.

He was a cop. He just had to remember that, Tony briskly told himself. He reached for his mug and pinned Mike with a firm look. “We need a plan.”

o-O-o

The circus was bustling with people. 

Thursday night seemed popular for reasons Tony couldn’t truly ascertain as he wandered in search of Clint. He was hoping he could talk Clint into telling him what he knew and convincing Clint to stay away from whatever surveillance Tony would need to do.

He glanced over to the entrance to the main tent where the returning Macaluso family that night – Betty and two of Mickey’s kids – were hovering waiting for the tent to open. Another old timer, Paddy, had stepped into fill Maureen’s shoes as security boss. He was with them along with another two security guards who Mike trusted completely.    

Mike was missing because he was meeting with the Chief of Police, setting up part of the plan they’d worked out over coffee and muffins.

Tony was still debating his decision to trust Mike, but he still couldn’t think of a different way to address the problem of Mike’s rivals. He sighed as he sidestepped around two teenagers making out in a nook between the tents. 

He almost stumbled over a peg and into the tent of Madame Mystery. 

“Easy there, ace,” the old woman chuckled from her stool by the entrance, “it’s easy to fall over rope and pegs in the dark.”

She looked age-less.  Silver-haired tied back, a wrinkled face dotted with liver spots.  There was a crocheted shawl around her shoulders and another she was crafting in her lap. 

“My apologies, Madame,” Tony began, “I’m looking for Clint Barton. Do you happen to know where he might be?”

“Probably in Gigi’s trailer putting his warpaint on, lovey,” she answered cheerfully.

Tony nodded his thanks and started to turn away.

The psychic reached over and caught his wrist, her dark eyes intent on his. “You’ll need to hide the Hawk before the creature gets him, but you will not be able to hide him forever. A shield is not a shield.”

Tony blinked at her. “Madame Mystery…”

She took a deep breath and her expression changed, a calm eeriness blanking out the humanity in her features. “Hercules failed without his Iolaus beside him; he didn’t burn all their stumps and now the heads grow back.”

Tony’s eyes widened with confusion, concern sparking him through him for the old woman.        

“Beware the kiss which steals your breath!” She shook her head suddenly, animation flowing back into her as though it had never been gone. “Sorry, my dear, did I say something?”

“Nothing that made sense,” quipped Tony.

She laughed and let go of him. “Not many things do when the Universe speaks.”

Tony took a step back and went on his way, a little shaken by the encounter. He wanted to shrug it off but…he’d consider it later, he told himself sternly, right then he had to focus. He made his way to Gregor and Gigi’s trailer.

The door was open and Tony knocked on the frame.

Gigi poked her head out. She was dressed for her upcoming performance; heavy make-up lining her face, a sequinned pink riding outfit already on her body. Her hard brown eyes gave away her distrust.

“Hey, I just wanted a quick word with Clint?” Tony said politely.

He couldn’t hear the sound of somebody moving inside the trailer and he figured he might have already missed Clint.

She tilted her head. “You’re the guy who took him out the other day for his date with the Macaluso girl?”

Tony grinned. “Why do I get the feeling he’s been denying it was a date?”

“Wow,” Gigi said, “look at you with those dimples. If I wasn’t already married to a passionate man, honey…” she grinned back at him, “and you’d be right about those denials. Kid’s gone on her like butter on toast though.”

Tony continued to smile at her. “Is Clint around?”

“Just missed him,” Gigi said, “he went with Gregor to get the horses warmed up in the practice circle.”

Tony sketched a salute and headed out of the trailers. He found Clint walking one of the horses around the circle. Gregor was nowhere in sight.

Clint looked over and Tony waved at him. He didn’t want to shout and spook the animal. Clint walked the horse over to him. 

“Hey, Antonio.”

“Hey, kid,” Tony greeted him with a smile until he noticed a bruise on Clint’s jaw that wasn’t quite hidden by the make-up, unlike the fading one on his cheek from earlier in the week. He motioned at it. “What happened?”

Clint ducked his head.  “Nothing.”

“Try again,” Tony said firmly. “That’s the second bruise you’ve collected in a week, Clint.”

Clint scowled at him. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not like you can do anything. Nobody does anything.”

Tony folded his arms over his chest and pinned Clint with a stare. “Try me, and don’t pretend it was an accident.”

Clint stared at him for a long time, but something in Tony’s stance must have convinced him because he slowly nodded. 

“Barney came at me,” Clint admitted. “He got a punch in before Gregor and Allan got him off me.” He grimaced as he touched his jaw. “He’d got his wages docked for pilfering the take on the galley; blamed me.”

“Let me guess, he tried to make you pay up the difference,” Tony sighed. 

Clint shrugged. “It’s not like Carson pays me anything, not that he believed that.” He sighed. “Gregor told him to get lost or he’d tell Carson to can him.”

Somehow Tony didn’t think Barney was going to drop it. He figured he’d swing by the shooting gallery on his way back to the main tent.

Tony gestured at the horse. “Is that the one you ride?”

“This is Apple Blossom, Gigi’s horse,” Clint said. “Gregor’s gone to check the shoeing on Daisy.  We think one of them’s loose which means I’m not riding her tonight and I’ll either take Blossom or Buttons instead.” He patted the horse’s neck.

Tony checked they were alone before he spoke again. “Listen, I’ve been doing some digging and what I found wasn’t good.”

Clint nodded slowly. “They’re bad people.”

“Dangerous,” Tony agreed, “which is why I don’t want you involved tonight, if possible.”

“I can do it!” Clint protested.

“I don’t doubt that,” Tony said, “but you’re only sixteen. I’d like you to make it to seventeen.”

Clint blinked at him as though the idea of anyone caring about his continued living was an anathema to him. 

“You tell me where I need to go, what to do,” Tony suggested, “and you just do what you normally do after the performance.”

Clint huffed. “I don’t know.” 

He considered it though. Tony could see him turning it over in his mind. But eventually he shook his head. The purple colour catching the bright lights that surrounded the circle.

“Look, I think I’ll need to show you but…”

“CLINT!”

The horse danced beside Clint at the shout, but he calmed her down with a hand on her neck. “Easy, Blossom,” he said soothingly. 

He cast a glance over his shoulder and Tony frowned at the sight of Clint’s brother barrelling towards him from the other side of the circle. He was rapidly putting together a horse losing a shoe, Clint being left alone, and a brother who thought he was entitled to Clint’s money.

Clint quickly looped the reins around a nearby post as he turned to face his brother.

Tony shifted position, stepping over a bale of hay and into the circle properly.

“What do you want now, Barney?” asked Clint. 

Barney looked furious. “WHERE’S MY MONEY, YOU DIPSHIT!” He yanked his arm back, fist clenched and…

Clint dodged and Tony sprang forward. He caught Barney’s wildly swinging arm and used the momentum to throw the man over his hip and onto the ground, keeping hold of the arm, twisting it painfully. Tony placed his boot on Barney’s neck over his throat.

Barney croaked as his breath stuttered.

“Now that I have your attention,” Tony said sharply, “let’s talk.”

Barney stared up at him, still more angry than fearful.

Tony pressed down until Barney started to choke. 

“Uh, Antonio?” Clint said nervously.

Tony ignored him, he kept his cold gaze on Barney’s until Barney’s face flashed from anger to fear. He was vaguely aware of others arriving into the circle.

“Please!” Barney choked out.

Tony eased his foot up but kept it lightly on top of Barney’s neck as the man gulped in breath. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Mister Barton,” he said calmly, “you are going to crawl out of this arena and go back to whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing. You’re going to stay away from your brother because he owes you nothing. But Mister Macaluso owes Clint Barton for protecting his niece so if you don’t stay away from Clint, I’m going to finish breaking your neck.”

Barney flushed purple but nodded gingerly, too aware of the foot over his throat.

Tony released him.

Barney scrambled away, half running as he staggered out of the circle and away towards the trailers. The Swordsman gave Tony a long look and followed after his new protégé.

Gigi clapped her hands and a couple of the other circus hands followed her example, applauding. She stopped at Tony’s sharp look and hurried over to Clint.  “Are you alright, Clint?”

“I’m fine,” Clint said. He looked a little stunned. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“Guess you’re not just some pretty dimples,” Gigi said with a wink at Tony.

Tony shrugged.

Gregor was ushering people away. “Clint,” his hand landed on Clint’s shoulder in an almost fatherly way, “that brother of yours is trouble.”

“Did he sabotage the shoe?” asked Clint, clearly making the same connection Tony had.

“Maybe,” Gregor lifted his shoulders, “hard to say.”

A bell sounded out.

“Performance time,” Clint noted. “I’ll meet you at the practice range after the performance.”

Tony nodded unhappily. He’d get a second chance to convince Clint to stay away, he’d have to live with that.

He watched as Clint ran off and the other performers and hands cleared the area, everyone heading to the main tent.

Tony looked over his shoulder, unable to shake the feeling he was being watched. He found a man hovering by the big practice tent; he was compact with a muscled body showcased in blue jeans and a zipped-up old denim jacket that encased broad shoulders with his hands were stuffed in the pockets. The dirty baseball cap he wore was a Philadelphia Eagles and Tony could just make out black hair peeking out the back. There was scruff over his chin and neck, but it didn’t hide the fact that he was an attractive man.

He looked familiar. Tony wondered where he had seen him before.

Tony took a breath and walked over.  “Hey, man, are you lost?  This the practice area.”

As he got closer Tony could see the figure was trembling almost imperceptibly. He frowned and increased his pace.  He stopped just out of arm’s reach. He took in the too-pale skin and the terrified gaze in the blue eyes that were looking into the distance. 

Tony sucked in a breath. He recognised someone dissociating thanks to an incident with a veteran cop back in Peoria who had served in the Army.    

“Sir,” Tony began lowly, “you are at Carson’s Carnival, a circus, in Philadelphia. You are safe.”  He continued talking, providing reassurance of the date and location.

Finally, the guy gave a full body shudder and his gaze suddenly focused razor-sharp in on Tony.

“Hey,” Tony said gently. “You back with us?”

“What…” the guy’s voice sounded rusty as though he rarely used it. He cleared his throat. “What is the date?”

The accent was a mix of American and Russian.

Tony suppressed his curiosity and answered. 

The guys breathed in sharply, closing his eyes briefly. He cast a look around.

Tony registered the minute shivering and pointed at the tent. “Why don’t we take a seat in here for a moment?” He ushered the man inside feeling like he was coaxing a wild feral animal. 

The guy almost collapsed rather than sat on a nearby hay-bale, pulling his gloved hands out of his pockets to drop his head into them.

Tony crouched beside him. “You OK?”

There was a brief blaze of blue incredulity directed in Tony’s direction.

Tony gave a visible wince. “Yeah, I guess that was a dumb question.” He gestured slowly. “I’m guessing you’re a veteran? That you’ve seen some action?”

A slow nod answered him.

“Head’s a mess,” the guy admitted.

“I’m Tony,” Tony introduced himself.  “Can I help you to call a cab home or…”

“No,” the guy shook his head.  “Just…” he breathed in sharply.  “No.”

Tony wasn’t too surprised at the refusal of help.  “You have a name I can call you?”

A strange expression flickered over the man’s face. “James?”

Tony frowned at the hint of a question in the tone, but he knew dissociative episodes could be disorientating. “I guess the fight triggered your, uh…” he made a vague gesture up by his head.

James scoffed a breath. “Something like that.” He grimaced, rubbing his forehead as though he was in pain. “Brought back a memory.  My best friend was always getting into scraps and I was always helping them out of them.”

Tony nodded understandingly. “Do you want a coffee, something to eat? I can get you something from one of the food trucks?”

There was a shake of a head before James mumbled ‘water.’

Tony confirmed he’d get some and walked away thinking he’d come back to an empty tent. He was half-surprised to find James still sat on the hay-bale looking lost.

“Here,” Tony passed him the bottle of water.

James examined the top and opened the bottle. He took a sip and then a larger gulp. He glanced up at Tony. “You said you were with Macaluso?”

“Yes,” Tony said carefully.

“You should warn him,” James said quietly, raising his eyes until they met Tony’s. “The…the people who brought me here, they brought me here to kill him.”

Tony felt his heart skip a beat. His mind made the leap from James to the execution he’d witnessed. The build was the same. He stilled despite the urge to go for his gun. He had no doubt that James would react with violence if he did. The memory of James coldly killing Hendricks slid through Tony’s mind.

James waited him out. 

“Why give me the warning?” asked Tony carefully.

James ducked his head towards the tent opening, back towards the circle. “You protected the kid.  They want him.” He grimaced. “They want him to be another me, another weapon they can own.”

Tony could see James believed every word he’d said. “You make it sound like you’re not with them voluntarily.”

“They trap me into my head,” James bit out, closing his eyes. “I see everything I do, everyone I kill, but I’m not…I can’t stop it.”

Tony frowned heavily. His heart ached for James. That sounded insane but he’d read enough and talked to enough veterans to know that there was some truth about brainwashing. He pushed his sympathy aside and focused on getting information, trying not to feel guilty as he did so.  “We think this is linked with the Stark factory bid, is that right?”

James looked conflicted but he nodded quickly. “They have someone on the inside, I don’t know who. I don’t…”

“James,” Tony said, shifting to look more fully at the distressed man. “Let me help you. I can give you a safe place to hide and…”

“There is nowhere safe from them,” James said tersely. “Not for Macaluso or anyone with them.  You should get out while you can.”

“I can’t do that,” Tony said.

“You’re loyal. They said that. It’ll get you killed,” James noted roughly. “The end is coming for Macaluso.”

Tony shrugged. He knew he was risking his life helping Mike and the family. But he knew it was the right thing to do.

“Then I’ll be with him until the end,” Tony said simply.

“I said that once,” James whispered brokenly. He closed his eyes. “Told someone I’d be with them until the end of the line.”

“What happened to them?” asked Tony gently.

James opened his eyes, his grief all too evident. 

There was a beat of understanding between them. 

Tony felt for James. If he was right, James had been used by the gang trying to take over for a long while. Brainwashed. Under their control. Killing people like Hendricks and Hatton because that’s what they ordered James to do. Something about Tony stepping into help Clint had jolted James out of their control and Tony wanted to make sure he stayed that way. 

James looked around the tent and lurched to his feet. “I have to go. I’ve already stayed here too long. They always find me.” 

Tony slowly got to his feet with his hands stretched out in supplication, but staying back from James so he did not spook him. “Have you got somewhere to go?”

James shook his head as he stepped away. 

“Wait!”  Tony sighed and motioned at his pocket. He pulled out his keys. “My car’s in the lot. Take it. There’s spare cash in the glove box.” He threw the keys at James who caught them with his left hand. He’d have to loop back to Paddy and arrange an exit vehicle for later.

“Why?” asked James. “Why help me?”

“Maybe I’m just taking a weapon away from them,” Tony said.

“Right,” James huffed. His blue eyes seemed warmer as they met Tony’s. “You have a good heart, Antonio Bianchi. Stevie would have loved you, doll.”  He held Tony’s gaze for a tense heartbeat before he nodded sharply and left.

Tony let out a slow breath. He wondered if he’d ever see James again. There was just something about him…but letting him go had been the right decision, Tony told himself. He grimaced. He’d keep telling himself that until he believed it.

o-O-o

It was cold out by the practice range.

Tony huddled into his jacket and wished his long woollen coat was suitable for surveillance and stealth operations. He rubbed his arms, rocked back on his heels and thanked his lucky stars that it wasn’t raining. He was beginning to wonder if Clint was going to show. The performance had been over for almost twenty minutes already.

“Sorry!” Clint skidded to a stop beside him.

Tony hid his startlement. God, but he needed to put a bell on the kid. He took in Clint’s changed look; he’d taken the time to shower and the purple was washed out of his hair, the make-up gone from his face. He’d dressed warmly into dark clothing; jeans, sweatshirt and jacket, old but sturdy boots. He was definitely dressed for a stealth mission.

“Are you certain you can’t just tell me where I need to get to in order to see them?” asked Tony, despite his instinct to give Clint a nod of approval.      

Clint waved a hand back towards the dark. “I’ll show you and leave, I promise.”

A compromise that worked.

Tony nodded at Clint’s silent question on whether to move out and he followed Clint’s swift jog across the park.

There was still noise and light emanating from the circus to their left. The winddown of the performers in their trailer hub; the close-down of the show tent; the ushering out of lingering patrons.

They cut through the park’s unused basketball courts and across more open land to a more forested part of the land.

Clint moved purposefully through the weave of trees. He barely made a sound despite the thin layer of leaves which were already littering the ground atop discarded twigs and deadened grass.

Tony wasn’t as good as Clint at avoiding noise, but he wasn’t a complete novice either. He adjusted to place his feet where Clint had placed his. He kept his breathing even. The jog wasn’t at the difficult end of Tony’s endurance, but he was glad that he’d kept up his fitness as Bianchi.

They emerged behind the RV and caravan that belonged to Carson.

Amber light seeped from behind the RV’s curtains which had been drawn over its windows. The caravan was in complete darkness.

Tony automatically looked towards the Swordsman’s place which was closest. Everything was dark. Further away but in view the clowns’ area had a few dim lights shining from their caravans. There didn’t look to be any movement though.

Clint nudged him and Tony followed him as they made their way over to the office caravan. Clint led them to a back access ladder. Clint was up it in a second, barely needing to use it to haul himself to the top of the caravan.

Tony swore under his breath and followed. Clint was already prying open an unlocked access hatch on the roof. Clint shot him a quick look and turned to wiggle his way feet first through the hatch, dropping down silently into the caravan. 

Tony grimaced at the tight fit as he copied Clint’s entry. His feet found the floor quicker than he expected and once he was fully inside he understood why; they were on the storage loft inside the main space over the front end of the caravan. Clint immediately reached up and closed the hatch from the inside. 

While he was doing that, Tony took the opportunity to look around as much as he could given his hunched position. The loft did not have a lot of clearance space, was crammed full of boxes at the back and to the left and right. He was glad he wasn’t claustrophobic. 

Clint had clearly carved a space out in the centre some time ago. There was a blanket covering the dirty carpet and a small backpack with some supplies. Tony could see a bottle of soda and a bag of chips peeking out.   

Clint tapped his shoulder and wiggled forward to the front of the storage loft. There were a few boxes placed at the front, but there were a couple of spaces which provided a clear line of sight to two bench seats either side of the caravan and a table in the middle.

“Carson remodelled it when he bought the RV. He moved the kitchen to below us, made it smaller,” Clint confirmed in a whisper. “Built out the old kitchen space for what he calls the meeting room.” He pointed beyond it. “The old spare room is used for storage and he turned the master into his office.”

“This is where they meet?” asked Tony briskly.

Clint nodded. “Every Thursday for the last eighteen months.” 

“I guess this used to be a hideaway spot for you?” Tony asked gently.

Clint gave another nod. “Gigi and Gregor sometimes need alone time. I was sick of trying to find someone to put me up for a night, figured Carson had the RV so I could camp on the floor here.  Found the loft and figured it was a really good spot to hide if I didn’t want to be found or needed a place for the night.”

“When did they start using it to meet?” asked Tony.

“About two years ago,” Clint fidgeted. “When I realised Thursday was going to be a regular thing for them, I only came if I really had nowhere else to bunk and then after the thing with Laura last year I stopped completely.”

But Clint would have a wealth of information he could provide on the group from the information he’d heard when he had been squirrelled away listening in. Something to explore once the night was over.

Tony nodded. “They’ve never found you?”

“People don’t look up,” Clint said simply.

“OK, you should go now,” Tony said firmly. There was still an opportunity to get Clint safe. “I can find my way out of here and…”

Headlights cut through the caravan, sweeping through the lower space. Brakes squealed as cars came to a stop; doors slammed and voices sounded through the thin walls.

Clint shot Tony a look that questioned whether he should go.

Tony grimaced but nodded for him to stay. It was too late for Clint to make his exit without their company seeing him.

Clint quickly settled back behind a box, pressing into the shadows in the loft.

Tony wriggled into a better position to see the table but giving himself the cover of darkness. 

Wall lights flared on in the space below. 

Carson barrelled in first, followed by his son. They both carried a little too much weight, bellies straining in their button-up shirts and flopping over their belted grey pants.  They bustled around the table taking the seats to the left.  One of the clowns followed them; streaks of white make-up still decorating the side of his face, his bald head shining with sweat. The Swordsman swept in a moment later. He’d redressed in a black polo neck shirt and pants. He might as well have tattooed himself with ‘I’m a bad guy’ on his forehead. David Blake, Hatton’s successor, was the final person to slide into the bench on the circus side; a mousy man with thinning red hair and a ferret face, he was bundled up in a very expensive wool coat. 

Two men with fatigues pushed past the bench and table to check the rooms at the back were empty; they took up sentry positions in front of the passage to the back.

Tony was more interested in the other side of the table where Mickey was sliding in to sit next to Steffano. The woman who had been banging Mickey sat beside him and the final seat was taken by a blond man who wore a camel coat over a very nice three-piece Armani. It was Blondie who took control of the meeting.

“We are here to finalise our Philadelphia plan,” Blondie announced. “Welcome to the table, Mickey Macaluso. Serena tells me you have agreed to assist us in exchange for a new life with her in Mexico.”

Mickey lifted his chin and nodded. “If I’m leaving Philadelphia, I want the money upfront though.”

Tony resisted the urge to sigh at Mickey’s stupidity. He had no doubt that Mickey would be killed by Serena as soon as his usefulness came to an end. Tony also refused to admit that he felt as disgusted with Mickey for selling out the family for sex and money as Steffano looked. By the sound of it, he hadn’t even made provision for his sons.

“That can be arranged,” Blondie demurred. He turned to the rest of the table. “We are accelerating the timetable.”

“Why?” asked Carson, mopping his brow. “I thought we had agreed nothing would happen with Macaluso until the circus left, Ludwig. It was bad enough that business with Steffano’s daughter happened last year. We’ll draw too much attention if something else happens.”

Ludwig huffed.  “Rest easy, Wilbur. Nothing will happen here.” He stared down Carson who submitted, ducking his head.

“The question still stands though,” Blake said tersely. “Why accelerate the plan? According to Detective Cain, his former partner’s undercover cop will take Macaluso down in the next couple of months.”

“We’ve had word that Stark will choose Chicago,” Ludwig stated, pulling off his gloves. “Therefore, our orders are to secure Philadelphia with all speed.”

“What’s the plan?” asked the clown.

Ludwig motioned at Steffano.

Steffano leaned forward. “My uncle went to visit Holden today. Tomorrow, Holden’s home will go kaboom and he’ll be shot dead.” He darted a look towards Ludwig. “If you can find your Asset.”

“The Asset never gets far when he wanders,” Ludwig said, projecting supreme unconcern. “We will find him.”

Tony felt his breath hitch. He just knew that James was the Asset. He hoped James was long gone.

“Barton will do it,” Duquesne said. “He’s a good shot.”

“But not brilliant like his brother,” Ludwig countered.

Duquesne snorted. “Good luck getting Hawkeye to kill Holden.”

Tony glanced over at a shocked Clint.

“Perhaps if he has the right incentive,” Ludwig said. “He is rather fond of your daughter, is he not? If he believed her life was forfeit if he didn’t do what we wanted, I’m sure we could persuade the boy to do it.”

Tony reached out carefully and placed a hand on Clint’s arm. He squeezed lightly hoping to convey that he wouldn’t let that happen.

Clint gave a small nod.

“And how will you deal with his Macaluso shadow?” asked Duquesne, leading back and folding his arms. “That Bianchi guy is keeping tabs on young Clinton. He’s trouble.”

“He’s not wrong,” Steffano bit out. “Mike trusts Bianchi for some reason. Somehow his digging into Laura’s abduction uncovered Hendricks and Maureen’s involvement in our counter-operation to Baker.”

“Hendricks is taken care of,” Ludwig said.

“But Maureen is in the wind,” Steffano shot back. 

“She is?” Mickey spluttered. “Shouldn’t I have been informed?”

“Maybe you would have been if you’d managed to stop screwing Serena for more than a minute,” Steffano argued. “Mike said he told Bianchi to take care of getting rid of her. She’s probably dead somewhere; he’s a mean son-of-a-bitch under his good Italian Catholic boy act.”

Tony was pleased that Steffano had fallen for the misinformation Mike had spread as part of their plan.

“I thought for a minute there he really was going to break Barton’s neck,” Duquesne admitted. 

“If we’re getting rid of Mike, we’re going to need to deal with Bianchi,” Steffano said, banging his fist on the table.

“Then deal with him,” Ludwig said implacably. 

Nice, thought Tony, almost amused.

“This time tomorrow, Mike Macaluso will be shot dead in a police raid of his Chestnut Hill home and Philadelphia will be ours,” Ludwig declared. “Ensure you have alibis.” He pinned Mickey with a look. “You will give your father the news at breakfast of your departure and be gone by lunchtime.”

Mickey nodded.

“You all know your roles going forward,” Ludwig proclaimed. “The time of Mike Macaluso is over; the future is ours.”

The meeting wrapped up, with Ludwig ordering Steffano to stay behind.

The circus guys departed immediately. Serena led Mickey out, clinging like a limpet to his arm and whispering in his ear.

The caravan door closed again. 

Steffano got to his feet and paced to the far side of the table. “What do you want now, Ludwig?”

Ludwig smiled. 

It was a shark’s smile, Tony realised, his heart sinking.

“We are almost at the end,” Ludwig said. “Failure is not an option, Steffano, for either of us. You understand this?”

Steffano nodded. “I’m not an idiot, Ludwig.”

“Good,” Ludwig stated crisply. “Then you understand that while you have been here, my men have taken your daughter into our custody.”

Tony’s hand clamped down on Clint’s arm and he threw Clint a glaring look to keep him from revealing them.

Steffano lurched forward and the two thugs at the back of the caravan moved to contain him.

Ludwig wandered around the table and took hold of Steffano’s chin. “Come, come, Steffano.  She will come to no harm so long as you follow our instructions.”

“I’ve done everything you asked!  Everything you wanted!” Steffano snarled. 

“And you will continue to do so,” Ludwig said. He tilted Steffano’s chin upwards in a way which made Steffano grunt with pain. “Do we understand each other?”

Steffano nodded as much as he could in the hold he was in.

Ludwig smiled and patted his cheek. “Go home, Steffano. Be ready for tomorrow and do as you are told, and you will have Philadelphia by the end of the day.” He stepped back and signalled to the muscle who dropped Steffano and followed Ludwig out.

Believing himself alone, Steffano crumpled, dropping into the bench seat and covering his face with his hands. For a long moment, he clearly struggled to contain his distress. Slowly he got to his feet and left.

As soon as the caravan door slammed shut, Tony shifted to cover Clint’s mouth. 

“Not here,” he whispered. “Wait.”

They waited. 

Everything was dark.

Everything was silent.

Tony indicated for them to move. They slid out of the hatch, down the ladder, and ran across the empty park to the trees.

They paused just behind the treeline.

“We have to save Laura!” Clint said harshly.

Tony put a hand on his shoulder. “And we will, but we have to be smart about it.” 

Clint nodded, worry written all over his young face.

Tony squeezed his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get whatever you need to leave. You’re not coming back here.”

Clint blinked back his shock. “Carson has a contract on me. He owns me…”

“Is it in the caravan?”

“Yes, he keeps it in the desk there,” Clint confirmed.

Tony nodded. “Wait here.” 

He ran back to the caravan and opened the door which had been left unlocked. He found matches in the kitchen cupboard and bottles of vodka in the cabinet. He opened the bottles and poured them out. In the office, he forced the desk lock with a knife. 

A quick search of the desk found Clint’s contract stacked with a black binder which Tony realised was an off-the-books accounts detailing the last two years of criminality. Tony tucked Clint’s contract into his jacket and tucked the binder under his arm. He set a wastepaper basket on fire and hurried back to the kitchen where he opened the burners on the gas stove-top and quickly left.

Clint frowned at him. “Did you find it?”  

“I’ve got it,” Tony said. “Let’s get out of here, I’ve rigged it to blow.”

They were almost at the car Paddy had waiting for them when the caravan exploded with a loud bang.

Final Part: Ace in the Hole: Part 3