You Belong To My Angel { Mafia Story }

Rune

1 - Rune

Money laundering worked according to a very simple principle. It was a simple matter that involved several steps.
In order to be able to use illegally acquired money again without ending up behind bars or being nailed for tax evasion, you had to 'launder' it.
The first step is phase one, which we criminals call smuggling.
The 'dirty money' is introduced into the legal economy. In a club, like my newly acquired one, this could mean that cash from illegal sources, such as the drug trade, is mixed into the disco's takings.
Nothing more.
Phase two is what we call confusion, or layering. This is when various, usually quite complex, transactions are carried out to further disguise and obscure the origin of the money. This could mean, for example, that the money is channeled through several bank accounts or businesses, making it difficult or impossible to trace its origin.
In my club, this meant that there were fake invoices, transfers or fictitious transactions that had never taken place, but were nevertheless documented. Of course, you had to have people on hand who were prepared to create delivery bills and receipts. And above all, there had to be people who looked the other way - which, with enough motivation, was the least of all problems.
Once that was done, phase three, and therefore the final stage, could begin.
Integration. Here the money was returned to the legal economic cycle and presented as a seemingly legitimate source of income. For my new discotheque, this meant that the money was declared as income from entrance fees, drinks sales or other legitimate sources.
A pile of illegal money had already become clean, legally earned money.
Although it sounded simple, I was always glad that I had people who took care of things like this.
And basically it was the same with the other businesses I ran.
Human trafficking.
Also divided into phases - although more so this time.
Recruitment. We used various methods to recruit our 'merchandise'. It could be through promises of work opportunities, better living conditions or romantic relationships. In some cases, recruitment was also done through deception, threats or violence. Depending on what was needed.
Then there was always the transportation. The 'goods' were often transported across borders or within a country. Transportation could be done in a variety of ways - including legal or illegal means such as planes, ships, vehicles or even on foot.
Then came the stopover. On the way to the final destination, we used these to control the 'goods' or to extort money. They were usually kept in hiding for a while or handed over to various middlemen to cover their tracks.
Then came the forced labor or sexual exploitation. Which ... was pretty self-explanatory. But often the 'goods' were also used in industries such as agriculture, textile production, construction, domestic work, catering or similar.
And finally, control and surveillance. Human traffickers, like me, used various means to control the victims. This could be physical violence, threats against the victims or their families, withdrawal of identity papers, isolation or psychological pressure. It always depended on who you grabbed by the balls and how.
Protection money. Also divided into phases.
Blackmail and threats.
Offer of 'protection'.
Determining the amount to be paid.
Penalties for non-payment.
Continued surveillance and pressure.
All things I probably didn't need to elaborate on as they were self-explanatory. And the drug trade, well ... also needed no further explanation.
I leafed through the stack of papers and grinned when I saw the number with all the zeros.
"Very nice," I said and leaned back. Stretching my neck, I fished a cigarette out of my pocket. I lit it and took a deep drag. The smoke quickly spread through the small study of the new club and made it look foggy. But I didn't care and smiled.
2.5 million in one month.
Yes, the sum was impressive. And that was just the sale of methamphetamines and cocaine. It didn't even include the human trafficking and the protection money.
2.5 million!
I leaned back in my chair and rubbed the cigarette between my lips through my slightly wavy, dark brown hair.
If business went on like this, I'd be out the money I'd spent on the club I'd bought to launder even more money within a few weeks.
I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket just as there was a knock on the door.
"Nox? Are you there?"
The door was opened a crack and before I saw the person coming in, a long snout pushed through. Don, my black Doberman dog, squeezed in and ran towards me. He barked and jumped up and only when I had stroked his head and given him the command to sit did Cal come into the room too.
He closed the door and leaned against the wood. His arms crossed in front of his chest, he looked annoyed at me.
With an outstretched index finger, he pointed at Don. "Put the cattle down, man."
I grinned, but raised a brow. "What?"
Cal, whose full name was Calgero Costello, and therefore my cousin, snorted.
"Don tried to mount a poodle in the park."
I laughed out loud. "So?"
"So? Do you know what a fuss it was to pull him off the other cattle? And then calming down the chick who owns the poodle? She went so crazy that I had to hold my gun under her nose to calm her down."
I patted Don on the head and he let his tongue hang out as he rested his head on the arm of my chair. "You threatened her with your gun? In the middle of the park? In broad daylight?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Yes."
"And all because she was bitching?"
Cal snorted again. "She was shouting all over the park, Rune. What was I supposed to do? Shoot her?"
Shrugging my shoulders, I took a drag on my cigarette and stroked my chin. "I don't know, shut her up some other way?"
"The chick was around fifty," he protested.
"So right up your alley, is she?"
Cal made an exaggerated choking noise and then grinned, "Fuck you, Nox."
"Ditto." I gave him the middle finger and stubbed out the cigarette with a laugh. The only reason Cal was allowed to talk to me like that was because we were alone. If there were others in the room, he would have to treat me with the same respect as the rest of my 'family'. As the head of one of the largest mafia organizations in the country, and definitely in this city, there was a strict hierarchy and therefore a way of addressing me. That was true even among relatives.
Costello.
A name that people whispered under their breath and that every policeman who didn't receive my bribe cursed. And Nox, well, my alias occasionally and in certain contexts made even the toughest men wet themselves.
Not without reason.
If at the age of 26 you were already the head of a criminal organization of such magnitude... you'd done it by being brutal and efficient.
I started dealing drugs when I was ten, after my parents died. A year later, Cal joined me. It wasn't long before we had worked our way up together and I ended up taking over the empire of the man who had everything in his hands before me.
Carlo Russi was a feared motherfucker who saw special potential in me, which he had promoted to the best of his ability. And as the old bastard hadn't had any children of his own, he had chosen me as his successor.
And he did well. I was cold-hearted, brutal and unscrupulous. Most of the time.
Anyone who meant nothing to me or brought me no profit was of no value to me. Period.
This attitude, which I had acquired both through my early start in life as a criminal and through my 'training' with Russi, I was perfect for this. The 'family', with me at the top, had become the biggest in the country and everyone was wary of interfering in our affairs. My territory was untouchable. Anyone who dared to take one step closer and conduct business where I did mine had a damn big problem, which often ended with them finding themselves ten feet under.
"So," Cal snapped me out of my thoughts. "What does it look like?"
"What does what look like?" I asked.
He rolled his eyes. "You and me. Drinking. Today."
I looked from Cal to the papers and back again.
"Fine by me," I replied, then stretched with relish. The guns in the chest straps over my shirt clicked. "Where do you want to go?"
His shoulders shrugged upwards. "I don't know. I don't really care," Cal said casually. "As long as there's beer and women. But I've heard the place on First is pretty good."
I rolled my eyes. "You mean MY shed?"
My cousin blinked. "When did you buy that one?"
I snorted, but waved it off. "No idea."
"Well then," Cal grinned and tilted his head. "I guess the drinks are on you."
I laughed darkly. "Like I don't always pay when we're out."
"You're a fucking rich guy too, friend."
I raised my eyebrow higher. "Aren't you?"
He laughed and turned to leave. "My boss, that's you, pays well, but the benefits leave a lot to be desired."
Now I laughed louder. "Special benefits? Do you want bonuses for every bullet you fire and every threat you make to people?"
"Hazard pay, that's what it's called."
"Get lost, asshole," I said, shaking my head and picking up the next stack of papers.
Cal smirked softly. "I'll meet you there at nine."
I just nodded and let the dark blond muscle mountain go. Before he disappeared, though, I said, "Yo! Take care of the family..." I thought for a moment and looked into his dark brown eyes, "... Cavalli. The ones who own that flower store on the corner of Main Street and Eleventh. The protection money is due and I haven't seen a bill yet."
Cal spun around. "You want me to rough them up right away, or just make a little mess?"
"I'll leave that up to you. Just make sure they know that the money has to be here by tomorrow. I want my 'pizzo'. Otherwise ... Well, you know."
"Yeah, all right," he explained, nodding and giving me the middle finger as he closed the door. "It's not the first time, bro. See you later then, Nox."
I waved my hand limply without looking and went back to checking my income and expenses. But my mind was already on the evening.
A break was a good thing, considering how much effort was involved in opening a club of this size and standard. Up until yesterday, rooms were still being renovated, drinks stocked and people hired and trained. The guest lists were full and both the VIP and VVIP areas were fully booked.
There were around seventy people from the criminal underground alone, who were important.
I sighed. Maintaining relationships wasn't my favorite pastime, but unfortunately it was necessary. Which meant, logically, that I had to be present at the opening.
I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose. Fuck yes, I needed a break. A break and a night with a willing playmate if it was on the cards. I wasn't in the mood to fuck hookers anymore, so the possibility of picking up a girl was a real temptation.
Let's see what we can find tonight.
Don barked once because of a noise outside the office and I scratched his ear, lost in thought.
In the end, I didn't leave my office until the sun had set, but that was okay. It didn't take me long to get ready, and the place the moron Cal had suggested was less than ten minutes away from my million-dollar penthouse.
So I dutifully let Don run alongside my leg, left the club after a few final conversations and instructions for the opening, got into my Mercedes-AMG E63 and sped off with my dog in the passenger seat.