Who’s Next?
For as long as he had been in the business, he could remember the Bianchi family quietly distributing their fine wines. He had been told that the Bianchi family was much like the smaller families of the current day. The Bianchi family had started very small and only distributing alcohol, but they moved into fine wines and fast cars. The Bianchi family had many deep connections over in Italy. Family ties and friendships that had lasted over twenty generations. In terms of families, the Bianchi family was rather quiet. No one ever heard of a killing by a Bianchi man.
No, the Bianchi family was renowned for other reasons. Don Bianchi was a car collector, and all of the Don’s men drove better than any one he had known. The Don’s men drove nothing less than a Pierce-Arrow and more often than not, Mercedes-Benz and Rolls-Royce. The Bianchi family drivers drove hard and fast, this was how the Bianchi family made a good majority of their money. The Bianchi family would place their drivers into local races and bet their revenues from the wine industry on them. Not that the high-end vehicles were proof or anything, but the Bianchi family rarely lost a race.
Don Bianchi’s family resided in a butcher’s shop a few blocks from his warehouse. Behind the butcher’s shop was a highly maintained garage with many bays and many hired mechanics. Don Bianchi insisted his cars be maintained and always glistening.
Upstairs in the butcher is where the Bianchi family’s headquarters were located. A frail and thin, but still proud and noble, Don Bianchi rested warily on his leather high-back chair. His eyes traced his office walls, which were covered in framed newspaper clippings. All of the clippings reported on an amazing driver in that day’s race, how much he had brought in for his team. Underboss Pera was next door to the Don. Pera had always thought that Don Bianchi was too weak to do what the Bianchi family needed to do. He felt they needed to move on from racing and wine to harder pastimes, like the modern day drugs. Pera was a much bigger and younger man that Don Bianchi, but he had never once thought of doing anything to Don Bianchi. Pera would complain and argue, but nothing ever came of it. While Pera didn’t agree with Don Bianchi, Pera still did what Don Bianchi wanted done. Pera would ensure the men entered the races and that the wine was sold properly.
Don Bianchi’s methods attracted a large amount of political friendship. The Bianchi family held many friends in high places. However, for all that political friendship, only a few local police officers were on their payroll. Don Bianchi felt that too much bribery was a waste of money. This made it too easy for his family. He had almost all of the police on his payroll; he could do this easy and relaxed.
The plans were settled and the men began to load up into their vehicles. The one lone Ford began to drive down the same street of the Bianchi family’s butcher. They came to a stop in front of the butcher and started shooting into the butcher with their Tommys. The Ford then peeled out and turned the corner and sped out of sight. The Bianchi men immediately stirred and began to arm themselves with whatever they had lying around. Don Bianchi took the stairs rather well for a man his age and told the men to settle down and protect their holdings. The men began to settle in around the butcher.
A cattle truck pulled up in the back of the butcher. The boys working at the butcher went out to grab the few cattle that they had bought this week. When the doors flung open and out came twenty of his men walking calmly behind him. The boys ran inside, to warn the Bianchi men. Exactly as planned. He motioned his men towards the door and they all remembered the plan to a tee. The two men in front both pulled out a grenade each, pulled the pin and lobbed them in the back door. The clamor of men running could be heard becoming progressively louder. And then: a very loud sound, followed by the crackling of burning wood and the screaming of men. He and his men walked in and cleaned the place like they had done it before.
Ten of his mean went to the front to sweep the entrance, they had brought trench brooms. The remaining ten men and he walked upstairs. As the turned into the first office, they saw the chair had been knocked over. Underboss Pera was lying on the floor with a hole in his head and a gun in his hand, Don Bianchi had always thought of him as a coward. As they approached the second office they noticed the door was open and the lights were on. Don Bianchi was resting calmly on his chair with his hands crossed and resting on his desk. Don Bianchi had one request, to die an honorable man. He was more than willing to give Don Bianchi this last wish. He took a 1911 from one of his men and pointed it at Don Bianchi’s forehead. Don Bianchi slumped in his chair, with his hands still mostly folded resting on the desk. The man died with a smile on his face.
He walked out and told the men to finish what they came to do. Each of the ten men took a grenade each and pulled the pin. They nervously counted to ten, still holding the grenades’ handles and taking their positions in the hallway. Once he was outside and safe they all tossed their grenades into their designated rooms. They immediately ran down the stairs and out back. All at once the remaining windows of the butcher shattered outwards in a fiery explosion. The offices began to collapse on the first floor of the butcher.
Like clockwork he thought to himself. They swiftly walked towards the garage. The cars were exactly as the informant had said they would be. Don Bianchi’s Mercedes-Benz 540K rested in the first bay. The silver paint shining in the dark of the unlit garage. In the next bay was the Rolls-Royce 25/30, the hood was still warm from a sweep of the neighborhood. Last but certainly not least was the stark white Pierce-Arrow Silver Arrow. He sat down in the Mercedes-Benz, ran his fingers over the steering wheel. He turned the keys and was welcomed by vicious sounding engine. He told the men to take the Rolls-Royce and Pierce-Arrow back to the warehouse immediately. The rest of the men piled into the remaining vehicles: a cattle truck and a meat wagon, he noted those were both good for the element of surprise.
He pulled out of the butcher and slowly drove by its burning carcass. No one had escaped from that building, all of the Bianchi family had been taken care of. As he drove the 540K down the street, he began to wonder: Who’s next?
