Good news travels fast. Bad news travels faster. Word of the raid on The Fury hits the streets running.
It reaches James just as Stellan reports that all bodies have been 'disposed of' and he turns his attention to his two prisoners, bound and gagged in the back of one of the trucks, unmindful of their wounds.
A few quiet words to Stellan, and their trucks have new drivers as they head away from the pier in opposite directions. One to a safe holding area where the booze can be stored until delivery is approved, and the other to a place few know of. A place where James can do what's necessary to get some answers.
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The relief in the air is palpable as the last of the fuzz exit the joint, swells bringing up the rear as a bouncer, Rob, follows them to lock up and return, awaiting further instructions.
The joint's a mess. Busted up chairs, overturned tables, and candles litter the dance floor. It's a wonder the place didn't catch fire in the chaos. The stage curtain's ripped off its rails, drooping like a plastered piker, and the floor's sticky with drying booze.
So much to be done, but the first thing is to get word to Scott about what's gone down. Then the clean up can begin.
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Few know his name. Only those from whom he takes orders. Everyone else just calls him 'The Boss'.
When word reaches him through well-greased channels of the situation surrounding The Fury, he doesn't rant and rave. It's not his style. Instead, he sits at his desk, chair tilted back, legs propped on the desk - crossed at the ankle - and fingers steepled and tapping his lips as his brain races, exploring all possibilities. Don't be fooled by the pose, though. Many people have mistaken the pose for true relaxation. Those people are dead.
Reaching a conclusion, he drops his feet to the floor and snaps his fingers for one of his minions to step closer. Quickly writing on a slip of paper, he folds it in half and hands it to the boy in front of him - with instructions to deliver it to Mr. Olivander and no one else.
There are only two words written on that paper.
Giuseppe Vitale
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Nathan takes another drag on his cigarette, the one provided by Det. Walsh, using the opportunity to give thanks the man had been in tonight. He'd not had much contact with the detective before, tended to keep to himself which Nathan respected, but what he'd seen tonight, he'd liked. And not just because he'd kept them all from being hauled downtown. Turns out, 'Sandy' has a rather quirky sense of humor, and Nathan likes that in a person.
Shaking himself out of his reverie, he turns to the bouncers, sending Rob off in search of Scott and setting the other two to righting the tables and chairs, before joining Kate and Bren.
"Let's see about cleaning this joint up some, shall we."
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