We sat down in hard metal chairs, waiting for the other members of our party to arrive.
“Last chance to back out, man,” Ricky intoned, shifting in his seat. He thought what I was doing was a mistake, I knew. But the time to renege had long passed.
“Sometimes the only way out is through.”
The lieutenant came in, followed closely by a man in a suit. It was the cheap kind, ill-fitting and plain, unlike the tailored variety my brothers and I wore. In his hand he carried a battered briefcase. “This is Special Agent Beale of the FBI. You said you have something you’d like to share with him.”
“I do,” I said, tipping my chin toward Ricky.
“My client has exclusive information he’d like to trade,” he said.
“And what information might that be?” Agent Beale asked, his voice a deep boom.
“Details of the activities of a certain mafia family. One that’s been entrenched in Philadelphia for generations and has ties to drug trafficking and other crimes that cross international borders.”
Brows up, the agent said, “And would he be willing to testify to such facts?”
“That shouldn’t be necessary,” Ricky stated. “All the information is in the form recordings, online files which could be made into hard copies, and other forms of footage.”
The agent grunted, “I see.” And I interrupted the proceedings.
“Should my presence in the courtroom be required, I will comply as long as I’m given what I’ve asked for.”
The agent turned his wide gray eyes to me. “And that would be?”
Ricky picked up the thread of conversation again. “The dropping of all charges against him and the inclusion of him and one other into the witness protection program.”
“I’d need to see such evidence before making a decision,” the agent stated flatly.
“Not a problem.” Ricky passed a flash drive to him. This time a bright green one. “This is a partial copy of the information my client could share. On this drive are snippets to give you a taste of what can be provided.”
Without hesitation, Agent Beale pulled out his briefcase and removed a laptop in surprisingly good condition based on the vessel it’d been kept in. He inserted the drive and he and Lieutenant Stroud watched the clips I’d been willing to part with ahead of time. These smaller pieces of the bigger jigsaw might not be enough on their own to convict, but they clarified the fact that what I had was legitimate.
“You have my attention,” the agent said, sitting up straighter now.
“My client has in his possession conclusive proof on three members of the local crime syndicate, enough to destabilize their power not just here but their reach throughout the nation,” Ricky explained, dangling the carrot a little closer.
The lieutenant smirked, her mouth a thin line. “I’m guessing there’s no love lost between you and your brothers, then. Is there, Mr. Varasso?”
She’d spoken directly to me, a barb in her tone, so I spoke directly back to her. “My brothers are not the ones on the footage you saw.”
“What?” she said, clearly confused. Agent Beale’s face had twisted quizzically, as well.
“What I have is proof of criminal activity involving the Bianchi family, not the Varassos.”
“But they’re your rivals. How’d you ever get a hold of such a thing?” she asked, showing her bewilderment.
But I’d become a closed book. They’d get nothing more from me without some guarantees in writing witnessed by my legal representative.
The men on that flash drive were Donovan and Dario, but I was also giving up the whereabouts on Dante, fully comprehending the ramifications of double-crossing him. My plan was for him to be charged as well, which would put him out of commission and unable to retaliate. It might be risky to take such a chance, but I’d been serious about what I’d told Ricky.
I was all in.
Agent Beale glanced at the lieutenant and gave her a firm nod. “Well, then, Mr. Varasso, you have yourself a deal.”
25
Kelly