Snake in the Grass - Rewrite

Chapter 6

"Calabrese!", my boss, Detective Senior Sergeant Jack McKenna yelled.

"Yes, boss?" I asked, walking into his office and wondering what was up.

"Shut the door, Detective," the Sarge said, sitting at his desk.

As I turned to close the door, I noticed another man standing on the right side of the Sarge's desk. He was a tall, gangly bloke, all arms and legs, with a face that labelled him as a joker.

Even though he didn't look like a cop (he was dressed in a leather jacket, navy shirt and jeans), I could automatically tell he was one of us. When you've been in the force a while, you get an instinct for that.

"This is Detective Inspector Red Kelly, from Organised Crime in Melbourne. Red, Detective Sergeant Joe Calabrese," the Sarge introduced.

"Pleased to meet you, Joe. Call me Red, I only go by Inspector when I'm with the brass," Kelly shook my hand, laughing at his little joke.

I liked Kelly instantly; he had an infectious smile and, as I'd suspected, a jokey personality.

"So, to business. Joe, I want to temporarily transfer you to Organised Crime for a while for a special assignment, in conjunction with the Federal Police."

"Well, that sounds tempting, but I've got kind of a big caseload right now, and I'd have to check with the Sarge here...." I began, before McKenna interrupted.

"I've already given my approval, Calabrese. We can handle your caseload while you're gone."

Realising I was in, I asked what the assignment was.

"Well, no point beating around the bush - Salvatore Callipari's back in town, and we want you to go undercover to infiltrate his 'Ndrangheta group," Kelly said simply.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing - not only would I get a chance to make Callipari pay, I could help put the old bastardo away.

"We know that you have history with Callipari, from where you grew up," Kelly said.

"Yeah, I know him. I helped shut down one of his operations a few months back," I replied.

"Well, we want to not just shut him down, but put him behind bars for the rest of his life. What do you say, Joe?"

I eagerly accepted the job, but not before receiving a warning from the Sarge.

"I'll be getting updates on this operation from Red, Calabrese. If I get just one report that you've gone cowboy, you'll be back in uniform before you can blink! Understood?"

I gave him my word that I wouldn't go rogue. While I never stepped over the line, I sometimes had a tendency to push the boundaries. My file was equally full of commendations and red flags; I spent half the time in the boss's office, either getting congratulated or reprimanded.

From the next day onwards, we began building my cover.

We agreed to use my real name. Callipari had no idea I knew he'd ordered my father killed, so it just made sense. My cover story was that I'd washed out from the force, and started running my own loansharking racket.

I was set up with a flat back in Collingwood, while Josie went to stay with her sister for the time being. The only people I were allowed to tell about this were her and Mama, swearing them to secrecy.

The office where I'd run the business was only a few streets away in Lygon St, Carlton. It was small, but comfortable, and Kelly supplied me with a steady flow of cash to loan to the people who came in every day (loansharking is always done with cash).

The plan was to bankroll my way into Callipari's group, which most people in the area just called La Familia, or the Family, by allowing him to "wet his beak" as the saying went. This meant he would get a percentage of my business, and hopefully by earning him heaps of money, he would allow me to get in deeper.

I began to be treated better by the people who had shunned me for being a cop. They quit with the stares and mutterings and began to stop me in the street and chat like we were old paisans.

It didn't take long for one of Callipari's soldatos (soldier) to turn up and lay it on the line for me; I'd only been running the loan shark business for about six weeks but was making a healthy profit.

The goon told me, in simple terms, that Don Callipari  wanted to see me at the office of his shipping and freight business. I knew the place; it was the old man's front for his other activities, where he claimed income on his taxes.

I was taken to a car outside in the street, where we were driven down to the docks. I was taken to a small warehouse and to an office, with the door labelled "Callipari Shipping and Freight".

The goon frisked me before I went in, taking my 9mm Beretta (it was expected I would carry a gun). He knocked on the door, opening it as a voice said "Come in".

As I walked through the door, I was astonished. It had been five years since I last saw this man, and except for drooping a bit with age and his hair now being grayer than before, he hadn't changed a bit.

"Well, well, well. Young Giuseppe Calabrese! How are you, my boy? Sit down, sit down. Glass of vino?" The old man embraced me as he greeted me, then pushed me into a chair and put a small glass of blood-red wine in my hand.

"From my own vineyard in the Barossa Valley, fermented over 40 years."

"Salute," I said, taking a sip.

"Well, down to business, my good fellow," Callipari said, switching from English to Italian.

"You have a good business, and are obviously earning good money. But yet, you don't show me the proper respect; you don't allow me to wet my beak."

Taking another sip of wine, I prepared myself, remembering to sound sincere and to keep my anger at this murdering piece of shit in check.

"Padrone, I swear I did not mean any disrespect to you. Of course I will allow you to draw the water from my well. I would have done so sooner, but I had no idea how to approach you."

The old man considered my words, taking a sip of wine.

"My friends tell me you were a policeman. I am glad to see you saw the error of that decision and took on a smarter business. The police around here are scum, as they were back in Calabria and Sicily," Callipari said.

"Oh, I agree, Don Callipari," I replied.

"I have never seen a more corrupt group of people in my life, and they have the nerve to call good men such as yourself criminals? Bastards, the lot of them. I'm glad I got out."

Chuckling, the old man lit a thick Di Nobili cigar and offered me one; I didn't smoke, so I politely refused.

"I will start small with my percentage. Say, something in the area of 25% of your profit each month?"

I nodded slowly, taking a sip of wine to make it look like I was thinking it over.

Leaning forward so I was looking straight in his eyes, I whispered, "We have a deal".

The old man chuckled, patting my cheek.

"You're a good lad, agreeing to my terms. You never know, you do well and you could go further up. Welcome to the Family, my boy."

I shook his hand, which made me want to scrub it with steel wool.

I went to my flat and called Kelly from a phone box just outside, as I could never be sure whether Callipari's men would have bugged my phone.

This would be the last time I could contact Kelly unless I asked to be pulled out, so I put in into two simple words: "I'm in."