Then she told them where they would be going.
Less than ten miles from the city of St. Louis, Ladue was the most affluent suburban
community in the county, and held 22.2 square miles of the most valuable real estate in
Missouri. Home values and the incomes of its residents were stratospherically above
the state average, of course. There was a rarified, prosaic quality to life in Ladue, without any doubt. In fact, its city leaders prided themselves in providing its residents
the most tranquil and serene environment possible.
Of course, some things could be provided...that did not necessarily mean that such
things were guaranteed.
Ladue was home to some of the most powerful people in the state. Some were well-
known...others not. All held great influence over the way things were in the heart of
God's Country. Not far from Tilles Park, in the middle of an expanse of neatly mani-
cured, jade-green acreage, was the massive home of one such man...unlike his neigh-
bors, however, he not only prided himself in his relative lack of celebrity, he found it was essential so as not to be under greater scrutiny than he already was by law
enforcement agencies like the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the Drug Enforcement
Administration, the ATF, and the St. Louis County Police Department.
His name was Nico Roccoli, also known as Boss Roccoli to his allies and enemies
both within the heart of God's Country and throughout the international underworld. Nico was the Don, the Capo Crimini of Missouri and Illinois, the most powerful American Mafia boss in the Midwest. Publicly, he was a humble businessman and
philanthropist, a classic American success story of a second-generation Italian-American born of immigrant parents from the old country. The truth, however, was
diametrically opposite to the public image.
Nico Roccoli's parents were immigrants, that much was true. But where his mother was a quiet, graceful woman, his father was something else. He was a ruthless soldati
and assassin who was sent by the Mafia in Italy to support the operations of some of their favored associates in the American side of their cabal. His one saving grace was his love for family, and after his wife gave birth to Nico he wanted to ensure that his son had a better life than he did. Actually, in a perverted way, Nico was the classic American success story...but one the founders of God's Country wouldn't have wished
to imagine. Nico was raised to become a contradiction, much like his peers in organized crime: he was a God-fearing man who attended church on a regular basis and had the utmost respect for the principles of family, loyalty and country. At the same time, however, he grew to be a cunning manipulator and leader, and absolutely ruthless in the face of anyone who attempted to oppose him. Nico Roccoli's base of operations and domain were, technically speaking, supposed to be limited to both St. Louis and its neighbor across the Mississippi in the Land of Lincoln, East St. Louis. But he had garnered so much power and gained such favor from his fellow Dons that he would become on an unspoken but unmistakable level the highest figure in organized
crime in both states.
It had been a long Good Friday for both Nico and his son, Guido Roccoli, who followed in his father's footsteps. It was not out of nepotism Guido rose to become his father's second-in-command, his Capo Bastone or Underboss, but because he was a truly apt pupil of the lessons his father had taught him. He had risen in the ranks because of his own merits, and anyone who would have questioned that might as well
have questioned his father's authority...an all-around bad idea that one would not have lived to regret. They had spent most of the day in Jefferson City, the state capitol, coordinating the long-term efforts of the labor union political action committees under the Roccoli family's payroll, and how they could manipulate the voting decisions of key members of the state government. Both men were still awake in Nico's home, still dressed for business, ironing out preparations for doing the same in Illinois on Monday.
Neither father nor son could have known their plans, both long and short-range, would soon be changed. Permanently.
The captain got close enough to the gate to identify the vehicles through the glare of their headlights. The first vehicle he instantly recognized, a blue Mitsubishi Eclipse that sat low to the macadam like a metal scarab. He knew it belonged to Danny Choi, but he was supposed to be at the strip club that Pucci managed. The vehicle behind it was more than twice as big as the Eclipse, a white Cadillac Escalade SUV. He knew its owner, Ace, who also worked at the club. (He heard once that there were times that dogs and their owners looked alike...he thought with a grin that rule almost applied to the big Jew and his truck.) The third car he didn't recognize, a red Chrysler that looked like it got in an accident somewhere.
He got out his cell and speed-dialed Guido. After a moment, he heard his voice: "Tommy? Is there a problem?"
The capo, Tommy Falco, responded, "We got visitors pullin' up to the gate, Guido."
As a general rule of thumb, Guido preferred to be called by his first name by his subordinates, since everybody already referred to his father as Mister Roccoli.