The Meeting

Two crime groups are at odds with each other. Will there be an agreement?

The group of men in suites that sat a rectangle table in dim light. Everyone looked expectantly at a man at the head of the table.

“This is it, gentlemen. This is the last chance we must broker a merger with our archrivals, the Black Syndicate,” said the man.

“But, boss, we can’t trust them to act cordially when we meet them,” said one of the other men. “We should have them meet is here, instead.”

“But, then they would have the same objection,” said the man at the head of the table. “We must agree to meet on neutral ground.” He paused. “How is our firearm transfer going, John?”

“Our boys are still waiting for our clients in the warehouse. We will be informed when they arrive, boss.”

“Excellent! All things are going as planned.”

A cell phone rung and John answered it, pulling it out of his inner coat pocket. “What’s the report, Phill?” John paused. “I’ll let the boss know.” John hung up and addressed the boss. “The clients are in the warehouse, but they do not have the whole payment. What do we do?”

The boss thought. “Tell them we will accept the partial payment in exchange for a special favor, in return,” the boss said rubbing his hands together with a coy grin.

John relayed the message over the phone. “They’ve agreed to the offer.” John hung up. “What do you have in mind, boss?”

“I am contemplating having them act as a one-time liaison for our next operation. The biggest deal that will happen in two days is very risky. Better them then us.” The boss stood. “If that will be all gentlemen, I call this meeting to a close.”

“There is one thing boss,” said another man at the table.

“What is it, Murphy?”

“Our spy in the police department is cracking down on organized crime. Our spy does not have access to their proceeding meetings. We should work extra carefully from now on.”

The boss rubbed his chin. “That is concerning. From now on we act under the guise of workers like bank tellers or HR representatives. And everyone, stay sharp! That will be all.”

All of the mafia operatives rose from the table and dispersed outside of the fake abandoned store.

The boss got into his green Ferrari and sped off to his mansion. Once he arrived, he sat on his lavish leather couch and poured a glass of wine and turned on his tv.

Suddenly, a gunshot rung out and gunfire crashed through his patio sliding doors. The boss ducked under his couch as the rapid gunshots careened through his patio. He crawled behind his couch and covered his ears. The attack stopped and his guards rushed to him from a door leading outside.

“Mr. Sackson! Are you ok!” said one of the guards.

“You are supposed to be patrolling the premises at every corner! How did this happen!”

“There was not a sight of any trespassers across the whole yard, sir.”

“There may be a mole among us,” said boss Sackson.

Another guard rushed into the living room. “Sir, our rear camera caught a man in black clothes fleeing through the back gate.”

“We have many enemies. It could be anyone of them. But who would have the guts to do this?” said Mr. Sackson.

“I’ll tighten security,” said the guard.

“This incident calls for an emergency meeting. I will inform my constituents to assemble in the morning.”

Boss Sackson went to bed but sleep came late.

Early in the morning, Sackson called all ten mob agents to meet in the secret location. Within forty minutes, all were gathered.

“As I told you, I was assaulted at my home. We must find who it was!”

Suddenly boss Sackson’s phone rung. He did not recognize the number but answered. “Who is this?” Sackson’s face wen pail. “You wouldn’t dare!” he said on the phone. He nodded. “Very well. We will meet there this afternoon.” Sackson hung up. “It was the Blackstone syndicate.”

Everyone gasped. “They want to meet at the McDonalds’s on Prime Road and White Street.”

“In open public!” said John.

“Have you not heard the saying there is no better place than I plain sight? I will select four of you to meet with our nemesis. We assemble at noon.”

Thirty minutes later, the five criminals entered into the restaurant and sat at a booth table. Soon afterwards, five men in black suites sat across from Sackson and his men.

“Hello, Derick. I don’t know how you made the attempt on my life, but you will pay for it.”

Derick sat with his four underlings and sneered at him. “let’s make this quick. Let us put the past behind us. Let us come to a permeant ceasefire and start working together.”

“You tried to kill me.”

“Just letting you know how advantageous it will be to make peace with us,” said Derick.

Sackson frowned. “Let’s do a test run. I am ordering a heist to overrun Wells Fargo. Last time we got access the casino it was partially successful.”

One of Derick’s four men stood, pulled out a badge and brandished a handgun. “Las Vegas Police department! Stand and put your hand behind your heads!”

“Derick, you half bit!”

Sackson and his men obeyed and uniformed police officers rushed into the McDonald’s and apprehended the five mob members.

“Why does Derick and his men get off?” said Sackson.

“He is getting limited mercy before the judge,” said a policeman. “But he is still going to prison like you.”

“Cretin! You have no honor, even for a thief, Derick!”

All the mob members were taken into custody and hauled to the nearest jail for holding. Justice had been served and the two biggest mob groups were done away with. The last thing that went through Sackson’s head was how the authorities ever got the best of him.