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Network of Killers by D. B. Reynolds
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Genre/Category: Crime, Thriller, Mystery
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Network of Killers by D. B. Reynolds
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Synopsis

Carmine and Michael Bernazzoli of the Chicago Outfit have consolidated power with Thomas Galluccio of the Kansas City Outfit for years. Their ability to make money, exercise power, and minimize bloodshed within the multi-billion dollar unions of the Teamsters have always been their objectives. A new threat has arisen. That very threat is FBI Special Agent Wilfredo Feliciano. The Bernazzoli Brothers and Galluccio always believed that everyone had a price, that is, until Feliciano came onto the scene. Feliciano has been christened to investigate the unholy alliance between the Teamsters Union and powerful crime figures.

The Chicago and Kansas City Mafia Outfits are aware of how their notorious crime families will feel the hot breath of the U. S. Government closing in if Feliciano gathers all of his important data. Money and power proves how the most precious jewel in their crown is the International Brotherhood of the Teamsters. As a last desperate measure, a band of bloodthirsty contract killers have been sanctioned by the Bernazzoli Brothers and Galluccio to take out Agent Feliciano.


Excerpt:

FOUR STICKS OF DYNAMITE fizzled underneath a solid building structure. The force of an atrocious blast sent Carlo “The Beast” Binaggio crashing through a thick glass window of his adult movie theater. Severe wounds covering his body left him without an ounce of fluid. A pair of his own detached testicles were blown under a sign advertising feature porno movies. His blood made a splatter on the sidewalk near the demolished X-rated theater. Sinister Mafia plots were hatched throughout Kansas City, Missouri. The year was 1977. A bloodbath ensued within the wake of the city’s deep dark inner sanctums. Control for sacred turf ran rapid through the veins of vicious men like raging nitro fuel.

Nineteen Seventy-Seven also became a year when Kansas City Mafia families spoiled for the bloodiest wars in the city’s history. Angelo “The Animal” Galluccio wanted the entire River Quay section of the city all for his Mafia family. For sixty-eight years old, Angelo wasn’t a bad looking man. He was medium in height, lean in body shape, and fierce in character. He claimed the Kansas City organized crime crown belonged to him. No one could snatch it away from him, not unless they wanted a gruesome war on their hands. The message of terror was quite clear. The River Quay Wars were in full effect.

“When the Galluccios spit, the other families drown,” Galluccio once bragged to his closest Mafia contemporaries.

With the approval and protection of the Chicago Mafia family, he helped control the multi-billion-dollar Health and Welfare Pension Funds for the Teamsters Union. The Teamsters was their very bloodline.

The bars, strip clubs, restaurants, and vendors, Galluccio wanted every dime made in the River Quay section for himself. Every business paid tribute to his Mafia family. A breezy late Fall night in Kansas City proved to be one of the most violent nights the city had ever experienced. Thugs sent by Galluccio were just getting warmed up. They were in place to plant more dynamite in or around the businesses of disgusting punks who thought they had the juice to challenge the Galluccio Mafia family. None of them would sign their businesses up with the Teamsters Union. Galluccio once boasted, “I own the Teamsters and all of Kansas City, Missouri.”

The night first rocked with an explosion of Binaggio’s sleazy porn theater. The drunks, whores, tricks, and druggies, they had the time of their lives inside the many bars and strip clubs in the heart of River Quay.

Monty “Dirty Face” Pirelli, a frightening soldier in the Galluccio family with a heavily-scarred face and bullneck, led his group of thugs to a dark side street behind the host of buildings overlooking the Mighty Missouri River.

There were a total of six brutal executioners. Each of them had sticks of unlit dynamite curled in their hands. They were ready, willing, and able to do some massive damage. Mass destruction surely followed in their wake.

“Listen up good, men,” Pirelli hawked to the other five Mafia killers. “These joints ran by Boriello, Agnello, Marinelli and Rosetti, they’re to be blown all over this River Quay area. Since they don’t wanna sign up with the Teamsters, then their businesses won’t be a part of nothing. Angie gave us the orders to blow these fucking places up until they’re nothing but piles of junk. Am I understood, men?”

Displaying great loyalty, the five Mafiosos nodded their heads with approval. When Pirelli spoke, they listened with impunity.

Pirelli sunk his upper teeth into his bottom lip with force. A nasty grimace plastered the meaning of producing fear to his unattractive face. “We’ve already blown Binaggio and his porno palace to high hell. Too bad the prick decided to stick around after business hours. The fun is just starting, men.”

The band of vicious rogues looked to the west end of River Quay. The monstrous blazes ate away at the one-time adult theater.

“Vito, I want you to give Boriello’s bar a couple’a sticks,” Pirelli instructed. “Understand?”

“Understood, Monty,” Vito complied.

“Binaggio was just target practice for us.”

“Sort’a like a teaser.”

“Tony, I want you to give Agnello’s strip joint a couple’a sticks,” Pirelli barked in a dictorial fashion. “Understood?”

“Definitely understood, Monty.”

“Sal, I want you to give Marinelli’s restaurant at least four sticks,” Pirelli guided. “That place is humongous, like the size of a tiny football field. It’ll take four sticks to bring that joint to the ground. You understand?”

“Definitely, Monty.”

“Nino and Pete, I want you two to give Rosetti’s strip joints two sticks a piece. You two guys understand?”

“Sure do, Monty,” Nino said.

“Certainly, Monty,” Pete said.

“After tonight, all these pukebags here in River Quay will know that Angie means business. As for me, four more sticks are going under the car of Leonetti. Angie gave me the orders to blow that sonofabitch straight to fucking hell.”

“Got all the wiring you’ll need, Monty?” asked Tony.

“I’m the wiring expert. Remember?”

“How can any of us forget?” Vito said.

“If I had my way, I’d shove one of these dynamite sticks up Leonetti’s ass, and then watch his bowels shower every inch of this River Quay area.”

“Or watch his rectum being blown straight through his goddam throat,” Pete added, an even nastier look on his roguish face. “Have’em shitting right out of his mouth.”

“The FBI nor the KCPD will know who did what. They won’t know what they did it for after they do their pussyfied investigation. And believe me, they will come here in River Quay asking people questions.”

“Shutting up those who talk too much. Isn’t that what we do best, Monty?”

“Like Angie always told us, when you’ve got no witnesses, you’ve got no goddam case.”

“We’re with ya on that tip, Monty,” Nino agreed.

“Alright men, let’s move out.”

The six Mafia killers wasted no time following the orders of Angelo Galluccio. The bars, strip clubs, restaurants and street vendors had closed for the night. Patrons drifted away from the River Quay area at a gradual tempo. Drunk fools lingered around the parking lot.

Eventually, they cruised onto Main or Broadway streets. Payback for the Kansas City Mafiosos who defied Angelo became pure hell. The six maddog goombahs working under Galluccio were ready to make their move. The pungent aroma of Italian sausage and barbecue saturated the air. The smell teased their willing tastebuds.

Cousin Johnny’s, a bar ran exclusively by Joseph Boriello, had closed for business until Monday evening. Vito, a loyal soldier of Galluccio, planted two sticks of lit dynamite under the leveled foundation of the building. With quickness, he ran faster than a thief towards an open bank vault.

“So long, Cousin Johnny’s!” Vito howled, his voice rather cryptic.

Cotton Eyed Joe’s, a strip joint owned and operated by Gino Agnello, displayed nothing but darkness inside since business was closed until Monday afternoon. Tony Angelini, another dedicated soldier of Galluccio, shoved two sticks of lit dynamite in the very back of the building, right under an opening with space. Using common sense, he sprinted away from the soon-to-be catastrophic scene, not stupid to look back.

“No more Cotton Eyed Joe’s!” Tony rumbled, already halfway around the corner.

Sal Fazzino, another soldier who’d been with Galluccio almost from the very start, crept on the side of Mama Maria’s. The very spacious restaurant was under the control of Tony Marinelli. Having the veteran skills of an explosive expert, Sal broke two windows on the side of the building and tossed four sticks of sizzling dynamite inside.

“Been fun having ya around, Mama Maria’s!” Sal giggled, running quite fast.

Nino Cambiano and Pete Grosso, two vicious killers in every sense of the word, were thrilled to put an end to the profitable River Quay strip club businesses ran by Charlie Rosetti. First, Nino wanted to make a statement by slinging two sticks of sizzling dynamite through the window of The Pink Garter strip club. Second, Pete had a message of his own to send to other insubordinate rivals. Forcefully, he made sure two sticks of sparkling dynamite went flying through a window inside The Goldmine strip club.

“Final call for all the tricks who loved The Pink Garter!” Nino mocked, racing faster than he’d ever done.

“For all the drunks and tricks and druggies, this is your last chance to see The Goldmine in one piece!” Pete ostracized, his adrenalin pumped to the maximum.

He ran several feet behind Nino before both men disappeared into a sheet of darkness.

Last, Monty “Dirty Face” Pirelli tiptoed towards the silverish Cadillac owned by Dino Leonetti. The fancy car remained parked on the side of his highly-profitable business known as The Godfather Lounge. Galluccio had nursed a hatred for Leonetti every since he tried to backstab his way to the very top of the Kansas City Mafia throne.

Leonetti encroached upon his territory with no remorse whatsoever. The ignorant prick even went as far as badmouthing Galluccio to close friends. Pirelli looked around to make sure none of the River Quay nosy asses were in the vicinity. The coast couldn’t’ve been clearer. The timing was perfect for him to make his move.

“This’ll teach a scumsucking sonofabitch like Leonetti a good lesson,” Pirelli whispered with pure vengeance to himself. “After tonight, this punk is gonna be minus a pair of balls and an arm and a leg, just like Binaggio over at his burning skin flick joint.”

Darkness engulfed the entire perimeter where the car was parked. He slid halfway under the Cadillac with four sticks of dynamite and some wire. His principle intention was to wire a boobytrap bomb to the car. Pirelli wrapped the wire around the dynamite in the tightest fashion. More wire went spiraling around the fuel tank, carbeurator, and transmission. Being an expert in explosives, he slid from under the car and disappeared within a flash.

In a matter of minutes, a series of simultaneous explosions erupted. The explosions rocked River Quay, downtown Kansas City, the west side and points beyond. Strips of wood, shards of glass, chunks of plaster, sections of tile and marble, they all shot into the air like building materials raining from the sky. A bright light illuminated the once dark skies over River Quay.

Fire and smoke raced across the atmosphere. The toxic fumes spread for several blocks. Residents nearby were frightened by the earth-shattering rumble. Craters formed three and four feet deep around Mama Maria’s and Cousin Johnny’s. Concrete around the buildings were blasted away with great authority.

Dino Leonetti, a man of mid-height with a trim figure, deep-set eyes, and thinning brown hair, dashed for his car and slammed the door. A low-ranking Mafioso, Leonetti feared he might’ve been marked for death. After a hard jerk of the ignition, he learned his Cadillac wouldn’t crank up.

“C’mon and start up, goddammit!” Leonetti grizzled. “This car’s in tip-top shape.”

He jerked the ignition with the key once more. A commanding explosion blew him and the car to pieces. In the midst of the angry blaze, his mangled body was eaten by fire. Smoking body parts were stretched across the bloody concrete. And just like “Dirty Face” Pirelli predicted, a pair of Leonetti’s bloody family jewels were blasted off his body. The disturbing noise from the series of explosions reached Wayne Miner, a nearby housing project located only a mile east of River Quay and downtown Kansas City.

“Good Lord!” cried a black woman sitting outside smoking a joint.

“Look like it came from over there,” pointed another black woman, sipping on a bottle of chilled Wild Irish Rose.

“Where?”

“Somewhere near downtown.”

“What, River Quay?”

“Could be.”

“Doesn’t surprise me a bit.”

“Why not?”

“River Quay’s ran by those Italians.”

“Mafia men?”

“Whaddaya think happened over there?”

“Sounded like a bunch of bombs going off.”

“As long as they don’t come over here in Wayne Miner blowing shit up.”

“They stay in their part of town, we stay in our part of town.”

“Those goddam dagos are dangerous.”

“Fuck around with them, you’ll end up with your throat cut wearing a pair of cement shoes.”

“We’ll be seeing it on the news tomorrow.”

“And the next day.”

“And the next day after that.”

Pirelli and his squad of rogues left nothing but piles of junk behind. Eventually, Angelo “The Animal” Galluccio gained control of River Quay. Under his rule, new businesses flourished. To ensure they wouldn’t suffer the same fate as others, business owners wasted no time signing up with the Teamsters Union. Those who operated in the River Quay area exacted a tribute to Galluccio. The KCPD and the FBI had a general idea who was behind the building explosions and the deaths of Dino Leonetti and Carlo Binaggio. No one, not even the bravest of souls, were willing to talk.

Taking complete control over River Quay wasn’t enough for Galluccio. Greed was his blood type. Treachery was his constitution. He wanted it all for his crime family. He stopped at nothing to achieve his criminalistic goals. The chaos Galluccio orchestrated in Kansas City’s River Quay section determined the fate of the Teamsters Union and his mob family for decades to come.