Vinnie's Story

Vinnie's Story

The phone rang for the seventh time filling the dark and empty
hallway. "All right already!" I shouted as I ran to pick it up. I
yanked the receiver off the hook, "Hello," I practically yelled into
the phone.

"Tut, tut, Richie, that's not a very good business voice now is it?" I
could hardly keep from groaning out loud. It was Tony Coluccino, Mr.
Coluccino to me. He was the head man in our little ring that ran an
illegal casino in downtown Chicago. It started off as a pretty good
deal, just a way we could all earn some extra cash. It was a small,
neat organization until Tony came. Now we had gotten ourselves
connected with the Mafia, and had to pay monthly dues to some big shot
in New York City.

"Oh, hello Mr. Coluccino sir, I'm sorry, but I'm not accustomed to
being called at four o'clock in the morning. There's nothing wrong is
there, sir." I was using my best business tone now.

"Actually we do have a slight problem," he started to say, as if I
didn't know that there was a 'slight problem'. "Listen," he continued,
"I don't want to talk about it over the phone, but I'm calling an
emergency meeting at the new building. Be there now."

"That's not good business manners," I thought to myself as I heard the
dial tone on the other end. I glanced at the paper, 'String of arson
crimes continues' was the main headline. "That figures," I thought.
This city is getting worse by the day.

I got dressed quickly, wishing I had gotten out of the whole
organization before the Mafia took over. I never really did get a good
chance to quit. The only time was when Tony first came in, "If there is
any one in this room who isn't ready to do real business they can leave
right now!" was the first thing he said, or rather yelled at us. The
"leave right now" phrase was a favorite of his. We all knew what it
would it mean if we ever did get up and leave. Besides, how could I
have left then? I couldn't just walk out on all the guys I had been
faithful to, even though many of them disagreed with Tony. Still, it
would be better than the mess I'm in now.

I walked out into the cold January morning toward my brand new navy
blue Porsche. The dark empty streets sped by quickly as I approached
the building.

When I arrived at the new building there were four other cars pulling
into the parking lot. I was met at the door buy Vinnie Tuso 'the
moose'. He was playing the part of the doorman. "I.D.," he said
bluntly. I handed him my card thinking what a bad butler he would make.
He examined the card, then said, "Go ahead," jerking his stubby thumb
over his broad shoulder.

I walked in and took a seat between Hugo Vianni and Joe 'Pips'
Bevilaqua. I always did feel a little strange being the only one who
wasn't totally Italian. My mother was Italian, but my father was
Scottish. It was embarrassing to have a last name like MacPadden, but
they all treated me like one of the family anyway, mainly because my
mother was always in with the rough crowd. They figured that with a
mother like her I couldn't be all bad (even if my last name was
MacPadden).

Tony got up right away and called for silence. I already had a good
idea of what he was going to say. The casino was currently closed
because a water pipe burst, so we didn't have enough money to pay our
dues for the month. I figured it would just come out of our private
pockets.

Salvatore Troianni had a better idea. His plan was to take advantage
of the arson crimes going on presently. We had just bought the building
in which the meeting was being held, but we would not be using it for a
while. Why not just accidentally blow it up, and collect the insurance.
It was a brilliant plan, not a good plan mind you, but a smart one. The
only problem with this plan was that there were other buildings close
to ours that would be affected by the explosion. People were sure to be
hurt, maybe even killed.

I could tell that Tony liked the plan, and there weren't many people
who would stand up to him. I thought I'd try it, so I spoke my mind (in
a very polite way of course). I think some of the guys agreed with me,
but no one came to my side. Tony was pretty fair about it. He just
said, "If you're too much of baby to stand with us then you can just
sit this one out, and don't expect any profits from this month!" I said
that that was fine with me, and I left the room.

I didn't leave the building, just the room. As I stepped into the hall
I made stomping sounds with my feet, so that they'd think I was walking
down the hallway. I stayed by the door, and listened until I got all
the details of their plan. I walked to a window and unlocked it. I was
formulating a plan of my own.

I spent most of the three days between the meeting and the day they
would execute their plan reading spy stories and scouring the internet
for information on pipe bombs. My plan was to get there before they
did, hide till they had planted the bomb and left, and then try to
defuse it or get help.

When Saturday morning finally came, I was ready. I had packed into a
little bag a few things I thought would be useful: duct tape, two
screwdrivers, a jackknife, and wire cutters.

I drove out a full hour earlier than they would be there, and parked
the Porsche about a half mile down the road in an abandoned shack. I
ran the distance quickly, and entered the building through the window
that I had unlocked. I hid in the janitor's closet until they
came.

I heard them come in right on time. They went straight to their work
without even thinking of an intruder. The closet was cramped, and I
could hardly move. I heard a movement somewhere close to me. A broom
clattered to the floor. "Rats!" I cursed to myself. Then I saw a pair
of beady little eyes shining behind me. The whole closet was full of
little shining eyes. "Rats!" this time I was thinking of the animal.
They started running around in the closet, knocking over everything
they touched. Someone must have heard them.

I picked up my bag and ran. Pips was right behind me, and he was
running hard. He grabbed my shirt collar, and as I turned around my
fist caught him squarely on the jaw. "That will be far enough, Richie."
It was
Troianni's voice, and I heard the click of a gun hammer to back up his
garbled words. "We'll see what Mr. Coluccino can come up with for
you."

Tony had another brilliant idea, well, maybe not brilliant, but at
least creative. He thought it would be fun to lock me in the room with
the bomb and leave me there. I can't say that I liked that idea too
much, but that's what he did.

They took my bag away, and locked the door. I didn't know what I could
do but to think and wait. After about a minute or so I heard heavy
footsteps approaching my room. The door opened a crack, and Vinnie's
head popped through. "I brought ya your bag, kid," he said
quickly.

A voice coming from down the hall cut him off. "Don't forget to lock
the door, Vinnie," it said.

Vinnie looked behind him and said, "Sorry Richie, but I gotta
go."

The door shut, and I heard the bolt click. "Good ol' Vinnie," I said to
myself. At least I had my bag now.

I had to think fast. The first thing I did was cut the bomb off of the
gas pipe, which was exposed through a crude hole in the wall. It wasn't
a very large bomb, just enough to set off the gas pipe, but I wasn't
sure how to defuse it, so I didn't try. I looked around the room for a
way out: nothing in the walls, no holes in the floor. I looked up. A
ventilator! I stood on a chair and unscrewed the grate that kept me
from entering the ventilation shaft. It looked like a tight squeeze,
but I figured I should be able to fit. After I had unscrewed the grate,
I put the bomb into the bag, and threw it into the shaft. Then I
struggled into it myself.

The shaft was long, and I was more than just a little concerned about
how much time was left on the bomb. I had to crawl commando style along
the narrow tube with no light except that which came up from the rooms
below.

As I continued I could feel the draft getting stronger, which told me
I must be getting closer to the outside. When I finally reached the end
of the shaft I was met by a huge fan and a grate behind it. They were
the only things between me and a way out of this building.

I had an idea. I rummaged through my bag, and pulled out the longer of
the screwdrivers. "Here goes nothing," I thought as I jammed the
screwdriver between the fan blades. The screwdriver just clanked around
for a few seconds, but then it caught. I could here the whine of the
fan motor just before it gave out. The fan's blades slowly spun to a
stop, but they still blocked my way out. It looked like I might be able
to reach the grate with a screw driver if I put my arm between the fan
blades. It was working but I could only reach the screw on the lower
right corner. After I got the screw out, I pulled my flashlight out of
the bag. It was the big metal type, and I was able to bang out the
corner of the grate. It left a hole just big enough for the bomb to fit
through. I slid the bomb out into the empty parking lot behind the
building.

When I first crawled into the shaft I had overlooked the fact that I
would not be able to turn around at the end. I tried pushing myself
backwards with my hands. It was a hard and slow process, but it was all
I could do. I figured I must have been about a quarter of the way back
when I heard a bang like a shotgun. The whole shaft shook, and I banged
my head against the hard cold metal.

When I looked up I saw a cloud of dust and smoke billowing towards me
in the shaft. I pushed as hard as I could, but the smoke quickly
engulfed me. I was breathing into my shoulder and still pushing as fast
as my arms would go. I was using up too much energy, and I knew
it.

I tried to get some air, but only swallowed a mouthful of smoke. I was
feeling lightheaded now, and my arms seemed to be going by themselves.
My legs slid through a hole in the shaft, and I stopped for a second
with my body half in and half out of the shaft. As I slid through the
hole and out of the shaft I tried to land on my feet. My legs crumpled
under me as I fell backwards. The last thing I remembered was the smoke
swirling down at me through a hole in the ceiling.

"Wake up! Wake up, kid!" The voice seemed far away.

"Yo, Richie!" My vision started to swirl into focus. I saw dark bushy
eyebrows and a large nose.

"Vinnie?" I moaned. He sat me up and whacked my back a few times. I
coughed up some black smoke. I looked past him and saw the building
surrounded by the fire department. They had everything under
control.

"Listen, kid. You gotta get outa this city. None of them know that
you're still alive, but when they find out they is gonna be after ya."
He looked around as if they were right behind him. "I gotcha your money
and a plane ticket that'll get ya to Springfield. You better go home
and pack, cause the sooner you get outa here the better. Maybe I'll see
you again sometime."

I turned around to thank him and say goodbye, but his car was already
pulling away. "Good ol' Vinnie," I thought to myself again. I looked
down at the plane ticket. My mother always said we learn from our
mistakes. She used to say, "Richie, the more mistakes you make the more
smarter you get." I always thought that the more mistakes you make the
bigger a mess you get yourself into. She had a point though, I had made
a mistake and I learned my lesson from it. It was time to start over,
but in a nicer area. I've heard New Orleans is nice in the spring, or
maybe L.A.