Mobsters

Photo Prompt - No Word Limit

Mobsters 

I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve got a lot of enemies in Chicago. It comes with the territory. You can’t be a mafia boss without everyone wanting a piece of you.

On this particular warm June day, I’d sent my bodyguard Giacomo down to the local bakery for cannoli, nobody makes them like Luigi apart from my Grandma back in Sicily.

I got up to retrieve the bottle of 15-year-old single malt from the drinks cabinet when the inner door to my office burst inwards and three masked goons in tailor made Italian suits spilled through the doorway clutching Chicago Typewriters.

My gun was in the top drawer of my desk and too far away to be of any use, so I raised my hands.

“Come in gentlemen, what can I do for you today? I’m sure we can settle any misunderstanding without this getting violent”.

“Put this on” snarled the taller of the men “and shut up, capiche”. He threw an old grain sack at me and jerked the muzzle of his Tommy Gun to indicate I should put it over my head. I complied and was instantly plunged into darkness and my nose filled with an unpleasant musty smell.

Two of the goons grabbed my arms and pushed me out of the door and down the narrow stairs to the street entrance and then out into the roadway. I heard the soft purr of an expensive engine and a hand pressed down on my head to force me into a vehicle parked at the kerb.

Two of my abductors eased into the seat either side of me and one pushed the barrel of a handgun into my side.

I heard the front door slam shut and the car pulled away. From the noise of the engine and the feel of the seats I guessed this was a real upmarket ride, so this wasn’t some group of random wise guys on the make.

Was this payback for dropping Luca Giordano in the footings of the Union Station? Or a straight take over bid from the Capone gang, although I thought we were tight, Al and me.

Fifteen minutes later the car drew to a stop, and I was roughly manhandled out on to the sidewalk. 

“Keep quiet and don’t try any funny business” growled Goon No.1 “The boss wants you delivered in one piece”.

I stumbled up a short flight of steps and into a building, still with a gun barrel pressed into my back.

I could sense there was somebody else in the room, multiple somebodies judging by the low hum of whispered voices.

The sack was carefully removed from my head, and as my eyes reaccustomed themselves to the light, I saw a large group of people in front of me.

Someone coughed and then I heard the unexpected sound of a piano as the entire group broke into a chant.

“Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Marco, Happy Birthday to you!”

“Youse guys” I laughed, I just love a surprise party.

“Hey Boss” called Giacomo, “ I got the Cannoli just like you asked”