Chapter 9 - The Don of Flatbush Counts His Coffins
Dante turned his attention back to Carmine and Salvatore Rossetti.
The red laser dots remained fixed on their chests. The rain beat down furiously on the rusted metal roofs of the pier warehouses, but neither man dared to wipe the water from their eyes.
"Now," Dante said, his voice dropping into the quiet authority that had ruled the underworld for four decades. "We settle the debt between our families."
Carmine swallowed hard, his throat clicking. "What do you want, Dante? The docks? The union kickbacks on 4th Avenue? Name it. We'll pay."
"I don't want your money, Carmine," Dante replied. "Your money is dirty, and it smells of desperation. Here are my terms: Salvatore resigns as underboss and retires to Florida by tomorrow noon. Trent Kowalski is permanently stripped of his button and will spend the rest of his miserable life working as a dishwasher at a seafood joint in Sheepshead Bay."
Salvatore gasped in outrage. "You can't strip my button! I’m family!"
"You can either retire to Florida with a pension, Salvatore," Dante said without blinking, "or you can retire to the bottom of the Gowanus Canal tonight with thirty pounds of wet cement around your ankles. The choice is entirely yours."
Carmine did not hesitate for a second. He turned to his brother, his eyes flashing with brutal pragmatism.
"Pack your bags, Sal," Carmine muttered. "You’re catching the 11:00 AM flight to Fort Lauderdale."
"Carmine!" Salvatore cried.
"Shut your mouth!" Carmine barked. "You brought this on us with your idiot son!"
Carmine turned back to Dante, bowing his head slightly in a gesture of absolute defeat. "It’s done, Dante. The Rossetti family concedes the territory from 4th Avenue to the water. Marchetti’s Diner is sovereign ground. Forever."
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"Good," Dante said. He turned on his heel, offering his arm to Nora once more. "Marco, escort the gentlemen to their cars. If they are still in Brooklyn at sunrise, kill them all."
Dante and Nora walked back toward the warm, dry interior of the Lincoln Town Car, leaving the broken remnants of the Rossetti crew standing in the dark, cold rain.
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