McDonald Array - Divide and Conquer

“Thanks. By the way, you may want to step outside, I’m sure you’ll enjoy this!” he said with a twinkle in his eye. He turned to his deputy and said, “Go, you have a go!”

It took thirty seconds but when it started it was an impressive sight. Three SWAT tanks raced down the street with two helicopters above, snipers hanging from their running boards. It was a sight to behold and a reminder to the gangs of the power of law enforcement. Fifty fully armed and equipped agents stormed the building and soon emerged with the father and son, the two leading members of the Gandolini family.

As two of the Gandolinis enforcers rushed out of the building to their bosses’ rescue, four of the FBI agents stepped up with riot batons and with far greater force than required put them down. The Gandolinis protested and screamed that they’d sue every last one of the team that had taken them.

“Good luck with that,” shouted one of the agents as he swung the baton and hit Gandolini junior across the back of his legs, sending him unceremoniously crashing to the ground.

Gandolini senior looked on in disbelief. This didn’t happen in his city. “Have you guys lost your fucking minds?!!” he screamed. “You can’t fucking do that. That’s fucking assault!”

“So sue us,” laughed the agent with the baton, the riot gear covered everything except their eyes. As far as the FBI was concerned, this operation wasn’t happening. The agents were untouchable.

Fellows watched, unable to control the smile on his face, it wasn’t much but it was something.

“OK, enough,” said the senior agent to the deputy, who broadcast orders to the SWAT team.

The bosses were quickly handcuffed and despite their protestations as to their rights, black hoods were placed over their heads. A limousine appeared almost from nowhere, picked up the two senior agents who nodded their thanks to Fellows before entering the car and picking up the two mob bosses.

Within a minute, the street was devoid of any sign of the SWAT team and as Agent Fellows returned to his van and stakeout, even the young FBI agent was gone.

As the limousine made its way to Kennedy airport the two bosses screamed constantly that somebody was going to pay and this wasn’t right. Eventually when they realized it wasn’t getting them anywhere, they calmed down.

“Where are we going?” asked Gandolini Senior, the ultimate boss of the family.

“I don’t know,” replied the senior agent honestly. All he knew was that he was to drop them at Kennedy at a private hangar. Beyond that, he had no idea.

“What the fuck do you mean you don’t know?!!” screamed the younger Gandolini, a swift kick from his father shutting him up.

Gandolini Senior was intrigued. They had gone to a lot of trouble for whatever they were doing. Nothing much surprised him in life anymore. They weren’t going to kill them. You only put hoods on people so that when they got back they didn’t know where they had been.

“It’s not fucking right, Dad,” whined Gandolini junior, interrupting his father’s thoughts.

“Shut up Jimmy,” instructed his father as the car drew to a stop and the door of the car was opened. He instantly recognized the sound of an airplane engine. What the fuck was happening was all he could think, as he was led from the car and guided up stairs.

“Gentlemen, please take a seat!”

The Gandolinis were shown to a seat and the seat belts buckled for them.

“I think we can remove the handcuffs and hoods now.”

As the hoods were removed, both blinked and looked around the small cabin, all of the blinds were down, offering no view out of the plane. They were seated at a small table facing a middle-aged man, well dressed and from his demeanor, very confident that the Gandolinis without handcuffs were no threat to him. The Gandolinis were violent men and that confidence they knew was not something that came unless it was warranted. Both remained where they had been seated.

“Gentlemen, my name is Mr Smith and if you don’t mind you are going to help us with a little problem we have,” offered agent James Smith politely.

Gandolini senior smirked. “What’s in it for us, buddy?”

“This plane has two destinations programmed, one will take us to where we want you to help us. The other is an island in the Caribbean but trust me it’s not a holiday island!”

“We’re not fucking terrorists!” exclaimed Gandolini senior angrily, knowing exactly where Mr Smith was referring to. “You can’t fucking do this!”

“Mr Gandolini, we are the CIA and you are quite frankly exactly what we say you are!”

“People know where we are, our lawyers will be all over you!” argued Jimmy Gandolini.

“Let’s clarify a few points so we can get past this nonsense. Nobody knows where you are. The team that picked you up this morning doesn’t exist. This plane doesn’t exist. The limo that brought you here doesn’t exist. As of this moment, as far as anybody is concerned, you don’t exist. I’m giving you the opportunity to exist again. Take it or not, I’m not losing any sleep!”

Jimmy opened his mouth but his father kicked him under the table. It was not the time for Jimmy to fuck things up.

“Can you tell us more about what you want?”

“Not until you agree and sign these papers!” said Smith pulling two documents from the chair beside him and placing them on the table.

“I’m not signing no papers!” said Jimmy pushing his away from him.

Gandolini senior was more intrigued and read the form in front of him. Short and to the point, it took him less than a minute to look up in astonishment. “You’ve got be fucking kidding me?!”

“What, Pa,” asked Jimmy, reaching for his own form.

Gandolini Senior stopped Jimmy reading his. “We do what they want under the condition that if we ever tell anyone, these fuckers will have us hit!”

“Hit?” questioned Jimmy, this was the government after all.

“To put it succinctly you are signing an acceptance that should you fail to maintain your end of the bargain. That is, keep your fucking mouths shut, we will terminate the contract with extreme prejudice and you will be assassinated! You’re fucking with the big boys now!” smiled Smith.

“This can’t be legal,” said Gandolini pushing his form away.

“Who said anything about legal, we’re the CIA.”

“So we do this and keep our mouths shut or Guantanamo for how long?”

“There’s no how long, it’s just Guantanamo, period!”

Gandolini shook his head “This is so fucked up, you can’t do this.”

“We can and we are! Gentlemen, we are on a clock here, either sign the document or I leave the aircraft and next stop is Cuba!” threatened Smith.

“And what you want us to do won’t hurt us?”

“There’s a reason the CIA don’t want you to talk to anyone, you’ll gain from this.”

“Fuck it!” Gandolini senior pulled the form towards him again and continued reading. “What the fuck, 20 % of additional profits to be paid into an offshore account!”

Smith nodded his head. “Additional!” he emphasized. “Get it? This will make you more money.”

Gandolini senior smiled. They had no idea how much he made, it was an empty condition.

“Fine!” he said waving his hand for Smith to give him a pen.

Smith didn’t give him a pen, instead he slipped a note across the table, a number written clearly on it.

Gandolini senior looked at the number and recognized it easily. It was the profit he had made the previous year, not the profit that everyone including his son thought he had made but the real one, the one with all the action that nobody knew he had a piece of.

“Fuck! How did you get that?” asked Gandolini in awe.