Love and Ammunition - Book 1 - It's a dog eat dog world

Chapter 8 - The untouchable Bobby

Chapter 8

To most American citizens, the Vellet name is nothing more than a Liquor and Casino Business that was sprung up in the late seventies by Bobby Vellet, who, at the time, was the youngest man in America to reach billionaire status.

To the citizens of the world, not much was known about him. To the FBI and NSA? He was untouchable, fronting as a legitimate business owner and investor who used petty criminals to do his work. By 2012, The FBI and NSA declared Bobby Vellet and his empire a state of emergency, offshoring millions of dollars in profits while simultaneously putting up Casinos on the coast of Calla and San Francisco. By 2014, they had fifteen undercover cops at the bottom of his empire. By 2017, they had one at the very top: Eric Deen.

And Eric had to fuck it all up. While the FBI would never admit Eric's failure as an informant publicly, behind closed doors, it was another story.

You see, before Eric Deen's infamous murder-suicide, the FBI had been building a case for the notorious Table. An underground mafia hidden behind a voice alteration system and run by a mysterious individual known only as The House. A sitting place for the world Elites. The untouchables. The group that hand many hands across the world, all in governments. All in top-dollar facilities.

And with Eric Deen's death, the case collapsed overnight. All because, as some FBI agents would claim, Eric couldn't help himself from have sex with Bobby's wife. Many in the FBI still point at Eric Deen's murder-suicide case as the smoking gun that tipped Bobby Vellet of the investigation. And it was this smoking gun that forced the Vellet family to purge.

All it took was a quick phone call and later, a search of an abandoned meat processing plant to discover over one hundred corpses hanging by chains; each victim with their throats cut like a pig.

All people Bobby considered possible informants. He was half right, at least.

* * *

Mr. Deen sits at the kitchen table across from Bobby's daughter. Above them, through the ceiling, the rustle and tussle of thirty police officers examining every inch of Bobby's office can be heard. Four hours had passed, with each minute crawling slower than the one before.

Outside, the sound of helicopter blades slicing air as four newscast helicopters from all around America flew high in the sky. And on the television in the living room, it didn't matter what channel you tuned into, a live breaking news report of Bobby Vellet death scrolled across the screen. Colleen Vellet and Mr. Deen couldn't escape it. No matter the channel, no matter the language, every single station was broadcasting the fifteen images sent from the murderer of Bobby Vellet.

His damn fucking smiles.

And it's all just a game, and I am the master. Am I not Bobby?

Mr. Deen sighs. He turns his attention to the large oak stairs; black boots fall into view. A parade of police officers descends the stairs, all carrying dozens of crime scene bags. And yet these humans have not a clue.

When the last of the police officers exit the estate, a dozen people with FBI written on their backs enter. George doesn't recognize any of their faces. A surprise, considering he retired only a few short years ago. George tries not to show his disappointment. Truth be told, he was kind of hoping he'd see his old friend David.

Except it appears, he's received two men in black suits instead. Government? He doesn't know.

And while this whole event unfolds, I have his damn daughter to deal with. A daughter who just turned eighteen, who clearly isn't over the fact that I now oversee her inheritance.