The Godmother

Chapter 7: Stalker Alert

I walked the cold streets yet again but this time with a second-hand tuxedo on and a bunch of clothes in a carry baggage I held tightly with my fist. The cold was something so torturous but you kept wanting more whenever you felt protected from it. The cold makes you realise how vulnerable you are without good insulation, metaphorically speaking, just like my hindsight and overthinking.

I finally reached a familiar abandoned tire shop. I stepped inside and closed the rusty metal curtain and reached a certain room. I slid a rug out of place and lifted the trap door contraption below it. One by one, I put my legs over the ladder steps and climbed down into a highly functioning, futuristic passage with people running about everywhere.

*sighs* Nostalgia hits hard.

I walked the halls nonchalantly as people greeted me. I returned the smiles and turned to the good ol' office I used to dread entering. "Roch! It's been a while", a deep voice called out. I looked down at the table in front of the office door. A young man sat on it, trying to file something.

"Tristan? Damn it feels like only yesterday you were that sqeaky-voiced 16 yr old kid who loved to fuck around with your dad's work buddies", I smirked at him.

"I don't think you guys deserve the term 'work buddies', more like slaves. I didn't have much to do after you guys moved out into your own place so I decided to ask dad for some favours. After ignoring me as always, he finally succumbed. Unfortunately, he won't let me do any real FBI stuff so I'm stuck doing the boring shit", he sighed.

"You should be glad your dad's even considering your internship, you aren't legally of age to even begin working here. Anyways, I'm here to meet your dad as a matter of fact", I said and playfully nudged his shoulders which he almost returned with a harder nudge but I backed away in time.

"Should've expected that. You can go ahead, he's not in the middle of anything as of now", he rolled his eyes and pointed to the door. I nodded and bid my goodbye with a show of my middle fingers followed by some very colourful words thrown back at me.

"You called?", I say as I stand cross legged, leaning on the doorframe of the office. Boss grunted in response, "You should've been here an hour ago. Where were you?"

"Where do you think I was? Those mafia fucks didn't let me go that easy without some introductions and tips and tricks to survive in their god forbidden household. We had the initiation ceremony and stuff-"

"Yeah, yeah. Alright, lock the door and sitdown."

I locked the door and grabbed a chair opposite to his desk. Who was he? Well, he's Mr. Robert Williamson, we called him Big Bob. He's the boss of our unit and a bunch of other small private units functioning in the FBI's Criminal Investigation Division.

We all used to work here, right under his guidance as coordinators for missions but eventually shifted to a unit of our own, S.T.F.U. which dealt with certain specially devised missions. We all have our own independent missions from time to time, like my mafia one. But we also work collectively in case we needed help with any one mission.

His son, Tristan Williamson was like that annoying little brother who kept hanging out when we worked, he loved the stuff we did becuase he had some weird fascination with Spy movies.

Those were fun days, we were and still act like a family, a bunch of brothers and a father. Speaking of father... My dad used to work with him. But they were actually highschool friends before they moved to the FBI, so it was only natural that I considered Big Bob as a father figure.

"Wassup Boss?", I said casually ignoring the fact he was staring holes into my face. "How's the experience so far?", he asked in a dangerously low tone. "Going fine, I get a feeling that this one is going to be a breeze", I smirked.

"Good, because your situation is going to worsen by 300% in the next few hours."

"What? What do you mean?"

He left his table and picked up a file. He threw it in my direction before seating himself on the table and looking out the door's window. I took the file and scanned its contents.

"Well? Who is this?", I asked looking at the file of the person he gave me. "Why do you think I've given you the file?", he replied in a cold voice. I sighed in exasperation and replied. "It says he's Nathan Fierce, 36 yr old criminal with a history of felonies who escaped from prison 3 days ago. What has this got to do with me? Unless-"

"He joined the Lucchese's crime family yesterday. He's working under a different Capo, thats why you haven't seen him yet", he completed. "Ok? And? How does this concern me? My mission was clear: get information and then get the fuck out of there. What has he got to do with it?", I asked incredulously.

"He knows you."

Silence. Thats all that prevailed for the next few moments. I could feel my heartrate rapidly increase and blood pulse faster. "How? I've never met him-"

"Yes, you haven't but he knew your father. Nathan would try and figure out every detail about your father because he was responsible for most of Nathan's arrests and Nathan wanted revenge. He knows who you are, he knows you're in the FBI and he also knows you're undercover in the mafia."

I almost shivered. I didn't know Nathan, and from his mugshot he looked harmless with his hazy bonde hair and blue eyes. It's always the innocent looking ones, huh? I was certain he looked a little familiar but I couldn't put a finger on it.

"He doesn't know what I look like though, so how does it matter?", I tried to ask sounding hopeful. "That's the only thing protecting you Romano, he doesn't know what you look like but you HAVE to be careful. You can't slip up, you can't trust anyone or anything there. You have to always be alert and aware of danger, especially with a guy like him around. He isn't your typical criminal, Romano!", he exclaimed in panic.

He had always been the stressed out type when it came to me because of the promises he made to my father about protecting me no matter what. It got in the way of my missions sometimes but its always nice to see someone cares about you. I simply smiled at his nervous figure, trying to hide the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "Hey, Boss. I'll be fine, yeah? I promise I'll be extra careful not to get into deep shit. I really need you to trust me on this", I said soothingly.

"You know I trust you its just-"

"You don't trust them, I know. But didn't dad always say... Live life on the edge? A risk always makes things exciting and you know me, I love a challenge. Forget trusting me, I need you to trust my luck."

Big Bob sighed and looked at me with rheumy eyes. Tears almost at the brim of spilling over. "What your dad preached didn't do him any good, did it? He was a daredevil", he laughed bitterly. I felt my slight smile falter. "My dad was a lot of things Boss, but he was never a coward and neither am I. I don't care if it isn't safe, I trust the situation enough to know that I'm ready to face whatever life throws at me."

Boss looked at me for a while and cracked into a proud grin. "You're just like him. I wish he'd seen you right now, he'd be slaughtering me for letting you go on this mission."

This time, I laughed. Boss sighed and continued, "Ok now get the fuck out of my office and go get some sleep. The mafiosos are impatient little shits, they won't appreciate you coming in late tomorrow. Off with you now!"

I smiled at his sudden authoritative tone and saluted him mockingly as I made my way out of his office.

"Hey, if you need anything. Call me. I have alot of contacts", he said called out in a concerned voice. "Don't worry. I will", I replied with a slightly enigmatic smile.

I left the secret facility, not before flicking Tristan's head as he was about to dose off to sleep.