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WHERE: Moulin Noir
WHO: Vito Marchese, OT all
WHEN: 15 Avril 1941
Vito sat at a corner table, his back to a wall and several exit routes mapped out in his head in case something bad happened. There was a whiff of incense in the air, something from Morocco that Vito had unloaded here weeks before.
The simple fact of people in Paris was, they liked their luxuries. Good wine, incense, artworks, silverware. Whatever wasn't nailed down and gave its new owner the impression that their life wasn't completely horrid. There were goose-stepping bastards out in the street, yelling in their ugly, gutteral language, but, hey ... the wine was outstanding.
That was just gray-market stuff, though ... not illegal, just restricted and hard to find, sometimes. The black market stuff, well ...
The easiest way to find guns was stop off at a village that had just been the site of a battle, a few days or weeks before. If you had food, you could trade it for whatever weapons and ammo had been lying around and gotten picked up. Grenades for cabbages, Mausers for meat. And Vito always had produce and fish to sell.
He picked up his wineglass and swirled it, looking at its rich red color in the dim light of the club, savoring its aroma. Business was good.
Even so, there was a lot more he could be doing with his time. It was just a matter of meeting the right people.
WHO: Vito Marchese, OT all
WHEN: 15 Avril 1941
Vito sat at a corner table, his back to a wall and several exit routes mapped out in his head in case something bad happened. There was a whiff of incense in the air, something from Morocco that Vito had unloaded here weeks before.
The simple fact of people in Paris was, they liked their luxuries. Good wine, incense, artworks, silverware. Whatever wasn't nailed down and gave its new owner the impression that their life wasn't completely horrid. There were goose-stepping bastards out in the street, yelling in their ugly, gutteral language, but, hey ... the wine was outstanding.
That was just gray-market stuff, though ... not illegal, just restricted and hard to find, sometimes. The black market stuff, well ...
The easiest way to find guns was stop off at a village that had just been the site of a battle, a few days or weeks before. If you had food, you could trade it for whatever weapons and ammo had been lying around and gotten picked up. Grenades for cabbages, Mausers for meat. And Vito always had produce and fish to sell.
He picked up his wineglass and swirled it, looking at its rich red color in the dim light of the club, savoring its aroma. Business was good.
Even so, there was a lot more he could be doing with his time. It was just a matter of meeting the right people.
hopeful