BISTRO'S RESTAURANT

Israel was stepping out of a night club in Las Vegas surrounded by his men. They walked straight for the parking lot, their eyes and ears alert for trouble. 

Knife followed his boss closely behind while the others guarded them. A while ago, Israel had been tipped by the club manager about some men waiting outside the club. 

They were the Capellos. 

Israel had only but a few men; about five along with knife. Reports came in the Capellos were a dozen men and heavily armed. Analysing the situation on ground, it wouldn't be long before the Capellos storm into the club to kill him. 

The club manager was under Israel's organization and was very loyal to him. He showed Israel the backdoor which led straight to the parking lot. 

Knife had suggested they remain in the club and fight but Israel thought otherwise. If it comes to exchanging bullets, he wouldn't want anyone in the club getting hurt. He was cautious about getting the cops involved. If a shooting spree starts in the club and people get hurt by bullets, the police force would love to know what happened. 

By going on foot towards the parking lot, Israel placed his life and the life of his men at risk. 

Then the Capellos attacked. 

Gun fired everywhere. Israel and his men disperse behind the parked cars around, using it to shield themselves from the enemy's bullets. 

With his men scattered around the parking lot, they pulled out their guns and fired back at the Capellos. 

Israel was with knife. They remained at the back of a convertible. From their angle, they could make out their cars which were parked six cars away from them.

" Boss you go up ahead. I'll distract them," Knife suggested. 

Israel casted him a stony stare. " Can you handle it?" 

Knife nodded. " Yes boss. Your safety is my top priority."

Israel brought out his own gun and checked the slugs. His gun was loaded. If anyone came after him, he'd shoot their heads off. 

Yes. He was in that kind of mood. He was a good shot and he never misses a shot. 

" Alright," Israel tapped knife on the shoulder. " I'll head out first. Get the rest of the boys organized and desert the parking lot. Do not engage the Capellos in a fight yet. They're twelve of 'em."

" We can handle them, boss," knife insisted. 

Israel scowled. " I said do not engage. I want my men alive. Get them all together back home. If one of my men winds up dead, you'll be punished."

Knife nodded. " Understood, boss."

And with that, Israel took off into a mad rush for his car. Once his hands were on the driver's wheel, he was unstoppable. 

As he ran, Israel could hear blasts of bullets renting the air behind him. The Capellos were headed his way. 

He had warned his men not to engage and yet he could hear knife's revolver gun blasting bullets at the enemies. 

This distracted the Capellos as they concentrated their focus on knife.

Reaching his car, Israel got behind the wheels and blared the engines to life. Slamming on the accelerator, he raced around the parking lot. 

The Capellos became alarmed. Their mission was to kill Israel but he was slipping out of their hands. Every man Working underground in the criminal organization knows about Israel's infamous driving. Once he hits the accelerator, he becomes totally invincible. 

They hurriedly ran to their cars and gave chase. One thing was for certain. If they failed their mission, Lorelei would throw them in her tiger's cage. 

Israel sped across the highway going 90 and above on the speedometer. He was sure his enemies would come after him. 

And they did. 

They made the chase after him. He was a fast driver. No one can beat his speed. 

Israel snarled, glaring at the cars giving chest on his rear view mirror. IIf there was one thing he hated more than anything was being playing the role of a coward. 

But in situations like this, it was best to let the enemies know you were cornered. They would never catch him as long as he had enough gas and the car was in good condition. 

With time, he out raced them. They couldn't meet up. Taking different turns and intersections he fired his car to a quiet area and hide it immediately behind an abandon building. Up ahead, he heard the Capellos blowing horns at the wrong roads. They had taken a totally different route and had lost him.  

Israel remained on his car, nursing his gun close to himself. He didn't kid himself they mightn't show up around here. If they did take this route to search for him, he'd have no choice but to engage them in a fight. 

He was sure he could take them down. He's never missed a shot. 

" Come to me, cattles," he said between clenched teeth, hands on the trigger. " I'll kill everyone of you."

The Capellos having lost him, gave up and drove away. 

Israel letting out a deep breath, stepped out of his car and lit a cigarette. He thought about his men and knife. Knife was an asset he couldn't afford to lose. He was very useful in his organization. 

If there was anyone

Blowing smoke, Israel waited for the coast to clear. An hour or more and he'd be free to walk to a nearby call booth and phone knife. 

Knife would find his location and bring the boys over. The Capellos won't dare attack when he's surrounded by his men. 

Suddenly Israel noticed sudden movements at the boot of his car. It happened too quickly, he didn't have the chance to dodge. 

Someone stepped out of the boot and aimed a gun at him. 

Israel's reflexes were swift. He captured the face before the man shot him. 

Five shots to the back. 

Israel dropped to the floor in a pool of blood. The five bullet's had damaged his spine and caused an unstoppable bleeding. 

The man came over and glanced Israel over. 

Israel cursed under his breath. How could he not have known? This man had hidden in his booth during the shoot out in order to kill him. 

In this deserted area, quiet and calm, this man ended the life of one of the most dangerous men in the world. 

It didn't take long before Israel ate the dust. He died a meaningless death. 

*

*

I woke up, realizing it was all but a dream. I sat up and glanced around me. I was still in Israel's bedroom. 

I ran my hands over my face. To my surprise my heart wasn't banging outta my ribcage and I felt immersely calm. My nerves weren't fluttering either. 

Glancing over the bedside table, I saw the time. It was a quarter past ten. The rain had cleared up but it was dark outside. The night's sky was studded with stars and a full moon glittering up ahead. 

From the bed I had a perfect view of the ocean through the vast window. 

I touched my temple again, feeling a slight headache. How long have I slept? I couldn't tell but that wasn't important or was it?

The growl in my stomach told me I was hungry. I'd better order up some food. 

As I reached for the telephone on the bedside table, I immediately stopped. An image flashed in my mind. 

It was a restaurant. The restaurant was called BISTROS. As I tried to make out something from it, another image flashed before my eyes. 

I saw a woman. A jolly grey haired woman who shouldn't be more than fifty. She was a cook. 

It instantly came to my knowledge that Israel does eat from only two places: BISTROS and this lady. 

I remembered his words about people gunning for him. A man of such power and wealth always breeds up enemies every seconds. 

Food poisoning could be one of the reasons he's cautious of where he eats and who serves him meals. 

Just as I was about deciding whether or not to order dinner, the telephone blared into life. 

I took it from the cradle and placed the receiver over my ears. " Yes?"

It was knife. " Sorry to disturb you boss. I just got a wire from Fish. The stuff's hit land from the sea. Fish's hauling it over to BISTROS tonight."

I climbed out of the king-sized bed and wandered off towards the standing mirror. 

" Stuff? What stuff?"

" Snow," knife answered. " Bistro wants to meet you. He's ready to sell once Fish delivers the drugs at the restaurant."

Snow? 

I was more surprised I wasn't even shaken at the thought that I'm gonna be involved in the drug business thing. Again I checked myself. 

I was non-reactivate, calm and cold. 

Was this what being a Mafia don feels like? 

" When do we leave?" I asked softly. 

" Midnight."

 I ended the call and stared at my reflection for a long time. A very long time. I was hoping Israel would show his face again. But he didn't. It seemed I was alone in this shít. The cards were on the table. I had to play mine. 

A while later, I stood under the warm shower, reflecting on the strange dream I had. It wasn't a dream. It was a memory. 

The memory Israel left for me. 

It seemed unbelievable he got shot five times by someone he knew. The look he gave before being shot could tell any dummy the traitor was Israel's closest ally. 

A couple minutes past eleven, I was out of the house, heading towards the Rolls Royce Silver wraith waiting for me. Knife stood by the door to usher me in. 

Looking at knife now, I began to get uneasy thoughts about him. From Israel's memories, it does seemed like knife was a valuable asset he couldn't afford to lose. 

And yet, I couldn't trust him. What if he had partaken in Israel's death? I mean, this dude right here got the guts to cheat with the boss's wife. If he's got the nerve to do something that daring, what're the odds of him Killing his own boss. 

As I settled down in the lush seats of the Rolls, knife sat beside me and shut the door. He had his revolver tucked inside his coat. 

The car started and raced out of the mansion. The convoy of cars came along with us. They were definitely not taking any chances with the Capellos. 

Knife and I didn't say anything on the way. I realized I wasn't scared of him anymore. I was more or less uneasy about him. 

After what happened to me, I find it difficult to trust anybody. Israel and I sure did have a lot in common. 

I had come to a conclusion: I DON'T TRUST THIS MAN, PERIOD!

" We'll be at BISTROS anytime soon," Knife said suddenly. He wasn't looking my way. " You aren't going to punish me yet?"

I gave him a glance. " Do you look like you needed punishment?"

I know he does. As a matter of fact, he needs to be publicly beaten and patrolled naked around the streets for fúcking the boss wife. 

" But I disobeyed your orders," he went on. " We engaged when you told me not to. Two of our men got shot. They never made it."

Hold up. It seems this guy was talking about something entirely different. 

" Back then at the club?"

Knife nodded. " Sorry boss. But I just couldn't bear you getting hit by some slugs from those Capellos."

So that was what he was guilty about. And here was I thinking about Irene. 

" I didn't like doing it with Irene, boss," he spat outside the window and cleaned his mouth. " Don't ask me to do that again."

Now I was getting confused. " What do you mean?"

He met my eyes searchingly. " Huh? You told me to fúck Irene so you could divorce her, didn't you?"

I pursed my lips. So that's what happened. Israel must've set up knife to sleep with his wife inorder to get her divorced. 

Talk about a psycho mania.

I looked away, uncomfortable with knife's studying stare. " Is that so. Well, glad you pulled it off."

Knife didn't say anything and so did I. Pulling out my cigarette case, I lit up and offered knife a butt. 

Knife stared at my hand for a while. " That's odd, boss. You never offer anyone your cigarette before."

I became alarmed. Shít, it seems to me I was revealing more of myself than I shouldn't have let out. I had to be careful. 

" You've done a great job," I said, using my brains quickly. " Enjoy this rare privilege."

He took it and lit up. His face was suddenly deadpan but that didn't fool me. His brain was working. 

After a while, he asked, " What about the men we lost?"

I blew smoke, staring out the window. " We'll talk about it later. I've got so much on my mind already."

I just didn't want to end up saying anything stupid. Knife was already suspicious. I can't let him grow more suspicious. 

Finally we arrived at BISTROS. It was an exclusive Italian restaurant. When I said exclusive, I meant really exclusive. They have guests whom are only allowed into the restaurant. 

These guests owns a green card which they present to the security outside before entering. These green cards were rather expensive to renew every week and yet, the restaurant was heavily frequented by the rich. 

The owner of the restaurant was a short thickset man named Bistro. He was so short he could barely reached my chest. His face beamed the moment he saw me and he hurried over to direct me and a handful of my boys to the VIP section. 

" I heard what happened, Israel," Bistro said in strong Italian. " How did you get out of that massacre alive?"

Surprisingly, I could understand him perfectly. It was as if I had the ability to translate the language to my understanding without even trying. 

" I don't want to talk about it," I said curtly as we walked passed a beaded curtain into a private room. " I'm hungry. What do you have special for me?"

Bistro grinned, rubbing his hands together. " You'll see. But first, I'd suggest we get to see the stuff before dinner."

I grunted. " Alright."

In the private room, there was an elevator hidden behind the walls. We got in and was shot down the floors to an underground basement. 

When the metal doors swished opened, we were faced with a vast hall. It was more or less a store but it extended way past three blocks. 

Up ahead, there was an opening where a truck and drive in and out. All around us were crates. 

Hundreds of them.

Bistro stepped forward and opened one of the crates. " Fish brought 'em over an hour ago. They're really good stuffs. The customers are loving it."

I leaned over as he brought out a penknife. Peering inside the crate, I saw plastic wraps of white substances. 

Is this what knife called SNOW?

Bistro stabbed one of the wraps and brought out a small quality for me to sniff. 

Reluctantly, I dipped my hands in and sniffed it. 

I didn't know what I felt. I couldn't describe it. 

But I know this stuff. I've handled it once back then in high school. 

It's the stuff that always gets a lot of guys in trouble with the cops. 

The same stuff that makes all the broke thug boys millionaires. 

The stuff a lot of superstars take to get themselves fired up. 

This was SNOW!

No wait. This was COCAINE. And there were hundreds of them lying around in the crates.  

Bistro snapped his fingers and two servants dressed in black tailored suits. They came marching towards us with four briefcases in their hands. 

Halting before me, they each opened their brief cases each and offered them at me. 

What my eyes saw made me caught my breath. 

The cases were crammed with money: thousands and thousands of dollars; more money than I had ever seen in my entire life. 

For a long moment of time, I stood there staring. There was nothing else in the bag—just money. 

" Here's your weekly share, Israel," Bistro grinned, pulling out a big cigar and striking a match. " Ten million dollars. The rest comes down by Monday."

Ten million dollars in thousand-dollar bills!

For one moment, I never took my eyes off that money. 

Ten million dollars!

So this was what I get for being a Mafia don. I glanced up at Bistro and nodded to him. " How about that dinner?"

The looks of surprise on Bistro face told me he wasn't expecting that reply. " If you say so, Israel. Is the money enough?"

I later came to learn Israel does always argue about his share. If he gets ten million dollars today, he hopes to get eleven million tomorrow. He likes to see his money grow by an outrageous percentage. 

" We'll talk after dinner," I said. This was a mistake on my part. Israel always does business before dinner. " I just want to eat."

Bistro nodded. " But of course. Come with me."

I was aware knife was watching me closely. He looked away and whispered quietly to the boys with him. 

I had no idea what he was telling them and I didn't like it.