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matter of fact.
    With a cough, Ciancetta looked up at him. “Of course, my friend. It is a wel earned twenty.” He reached down under his desk, into a drawer at his side. Rafael heard the drawer slide open. Ever the soul of caution, Rafael shifted his weight so that he could angle sideways toward the old man; even as he shifted he dropped the hand behind his hat backward toward his hip, until he felt the cold steel of his pistol brush up against his palm.
    At that instant there was a rush of air at the assassin’s back. With a quick and fluid motion, Rafael spun around, pistol in hand. His gun was level right at the forehead of the interruption.
    “Holy Shit!” said the young man with his arms raised wide at his side.
    Rontego recognized the youngster as the son of Ciancetta, and with a death-cold stare at the boy, holstered his pistol.
    “Jesus, Rontego!” yel ed Don Ciancetta.

    “Jesus, Rontego!” yel ed Don Ciancetta.
    “Here’s your fucking paycheck”, he said as he tossed a bundle of cash at Rontego.
    The assassin caught it in the air, even as he finished holstering his pistol with his other hand.
    “Damn, you are fast man,” stammered Joseph Ciancetta as he let out a long breath of air.
    “Just be careful who you’re pointing guns at Rafael. My boy should be viewed as if he were me,” Don Ciancetta said. His voice flat and even, his way of issuing a threat.
    Rafael hated when the old man threatened him, the vein in his head throbbed along his jaw line with an unnatural pulse. He was afraid that one day it would burst, then al the other Guido’s in the place would pin the death on him and then he would have his hands ful .
    “I understand, Don. I just always watch my back, comes with the territory.” Rafael tucked the money away into his jacket and flipped his hat back onto his head. “Now Mr.Ciancetta, with your permission, I take my leave.”
    “Sure thing. Rontego, I have something I want to talk to you about, later.” With that Don Ciancetta stood up and extended his hand.
    Rontego took the Don’s hand and felt the expected foreign object embedded in his palm. He grinned with the realization of that feel, relished its implications. With a deft motion, Rafael slipped the object into his own palm and brought his hand into his pocket.
    With a nod and a quick tip of his hat, Rontego pivoted and left the room. As the door shut behind him, the assassin quickened his step and with a flourish, was out the entrance and back onto the quiet city streets of Buffalo. He checked his watch.
    He had a play to catch.

Chapter 5
    Alex drove for about three miles, down into the heart of East Buffalo. Walden Avenue wasn’t much to look at during the day, and at night it was a downright nasty place to be. The need for survival oftentimes turned on the predatory switch that caused some human beings to treat other human beings like crap.
    Alex did a stint as an undercover narcotics officer in this district several months back. At the time he went by the name of Victor Garducci. When Alex was about one key piece of evidence from being able to get an indictment against the Mafia crew in which he was embedded, they yanked him from his post. He found out later that there was an unsubstantiated rumor that his cover had been compromised.
    Vaughn was displeased. In the name of
    ‘Alex’s safety’ the higher-ups decided this was the correct course of action. Alex felt that it was al politics. The force could il afford another undercover agent to be revealed and executed.

    A string of deep agents were discovered as of late and the Internal Affairs people, as wel as the Feds, were al over the situation but came up blank.
    Years of posturing, maneuvering, gaining the confidence of several gangsters al resulted in wasted time and free information for the lucky soul that inherited Alex’s case file.
    Alex pul ed up to a Gas and Go convenience store. He grabbed his cigarette butt that was now in a Zip-Lock baggy and entered