"This woman's killing us! We need more men out here!" Tommy cried on the other end, "Holy shit, we need more fuckin' men!" Then Guido lost the connection.
Woman?! Guido was his father's son: he rarely reacted impulsively, and never out of a sense of fear. Still, he whirled around and looked out the study room window that overlooked the circular drive...and he couldn't believe what he saw. All twelve of their guys outside were lying on the ground, out of commission, and he was just in time to see a woman swat Tommy with a fierce backhand that drove him to the ground. He didn't get back up. Then Guido saw the bitch turn and look right at...
Danny Choi. And a bunch of people with him.
Six years ago, when his father Nico hired on Danny as an enforcer, Guido backed the decision. It put the noses of some of the paisans out of joint, but of course they
knew better than to openly question pop. Ever. Of course Danny didn't have any Italian blood in him, that wasn't the point. The point of hiring Danny Choi was that he was the toughest son of a bitch he or his dad had ever heard of. Even though he knew he'd never be anything close to a capo, he was a strong arm to have around. And what the hell, this is fuckin' America, right? Everybody's equal, right? Ever since, the Roccoli family never had any reason to regret or even second-guess their decision to hire Danny.
Until the moment Guido watched the fucker just stand there after this woman tore through his men...what the hell did she do to them? He watched for a few seconds as the woman in black said something to Danny...and then she went straight for the front doors.
Guido couldn't help but ask out loud, "What the hell?" Not far away at a huge cedar desk was his silver-haired father, Nico Roccoli, the undisputed Don of the region. In his early seventies he looked like an aging businessman...but one only had to look in his hard eyes to see there were many more years left in the man's life. One only had to look in his eyes to see the cool, calculating mind and strength of will that helped him not only survive the world of organized crime, but prosper in a way only a relative handful of his peers had. When he saw his son turn from the window to one of the enforcers in the room serving internal security with a look bordering on fear, however, his survival instincts kicked in once again.
Guido shouted at the soldati, "Sal, go downstairs and get everybody together, and put silencers on your fuckin' guns! GO!" Without a word, Sal did as he was told and exited.
Guido stalked to a nearby bureau and opened the top drawer. He pulled out a deadly-black silenced Steyer AUG machine gun. The four remaining enforcers in the room pulled out matching SMGs from their jackets, ready to kill something.
Nico asked, "Guido, what's happening?" He had already made an effort to anticipate the answer, of course, but it didn't make sense. Is this a hit? A hit in
fucking Ladue, of all places?!?
Guido racked the bolt of his carbine and looked at the guards around his father. "All of you guys, stay with pop! I'm gonna get this shit taken care of."
"Like hell!" Nico didn't want his only son to put himself at risk. Not for him. "If there's trouble, boy, then you're staying with me!"
Guido's grip tightened on his bullpup-configured weapon. He had never disobeyed his father before, ever...but there had to be a first time for everything. "Pop, I gotta!
I won't let 'em get to you, I swear it on my life!" He rushed toward the study room's door without another word.
The Don called out to him, "Guido?! GUIDO!" But his son didn't acknowledge him as he left. Nico punched the top of his desk with a trembling fist. Trembling with helpless anger.
at the ready. As he listened, as he waited...as he prayed to God like he never had in church that his son would come through all right...he heard the sounds of the battle downstairs.
But it was the absence of sound that was the worst part of it. It was necessary, of course, that if anyone had to use their weapons on the estate, they had to be silenced.
Because of that, unfortunately, Nico couldn't tell what exactly was happening. Up close, when a weapon is fired, one can still hear the barely-suppressed shot fired through a so-called 'silencer'. Upstairs, at a distance from whatever was happening downstairs, all that could be heard was the results of such weapons being used. He heard the breaking of ceramic...the crisp and urgent sound of bullets impacting into wood...glass shattering. At interims, however, other noises could be heard...heavy impacts, like meat had been dropped on the floor. Yells of warning...at one point he
heard from downstairs, "Ray, where are you?! Did you get her?!?" Then a scream cut short, from the same voice. Then he heard his son's voice as he yelled, "THERE!
SHOOT!" A sudden cascade of destructive sound.
It stopped, and another voice was heard, fearful: "Jesus, Guido, she's too fucking FAST!" He was relieved to hear his son shout, "You gonna turn pussy on me now?! If you're gonna, don't worry about her! You'll have to deal with ME! MOVE!" A few moments later, a third voice in pure terror: "Holy SHIT!" Overlapping it was his son once again: "FIRE, GODDAMMIT!" An explosion of more noise, unknowable in its context...and it faded to nothing too damn soon. Nothing.
The absence of sound, like one would find in a church. Or a graveyard.
For a few minutes of time, it stayed that way.