That was all the two spoke and two hours later, Alan had his entourage driving back. He complained on the food, drinks and broads.
"They all saggy like over worked teats of the cow." Alan complained but most of all, he was ignored by the Eastern families which annoyed him. He grabbed the boys and left the place. It took sometime for them to get their cars as they were parked behind some other dudes. Soon they were on their way when they passed the senior cop who was there to supervise the others who had taken down the license plates.
"Storm coming up from the east. Drive carefully. I don't want to have you died that way. Such a pity when we could shoot you like dogs." The cop smiled at Alan.
"Fucked you, Ian. One day I would have you given a new set of copper boots. Heavy ones." Alan rebuked. Ian Bailey was one of those who were 'unreachable' by bribes or threats. He was shot twice on duty but still came on back like a frigging hero.
"Just thought you ought to know, I never humped your mother. She must had got you from the milkman." Ian threw back his taunts at the man. Alan miffed up his reply while his driver drove the car passed.
"Mr Nates, I heard the news too. The storm pretty nasty." But Alan Nates was too upset to be bothered with it. He just closed his eyes and dream of Evelyn, his current mistress.
Blake looked to his boss, and sighed. He had consulted Gonzales, the only trusted attorney of the man when they were leaving the Hall.
"Mr. Gonzales, you have better avenue to him. Pray do tell him that the rain would be difficult to drive in. We would be blind like bats. Its best we wait it out, perhaps at the nearby town or some stops."
"Blake, you knew him long too. Alan won't take to anyone advise when his mine is set. He hates Christopher for back stabbing him. More to that, he was hoping that the Irish had come clean on the alliance. They had one too many conditions that pissed him off."
Blake nodded. He was there when they met the Irish bosses; the list was as long as the time they took to finished the keg of Guinness. Bloody details and sub clauses that Alan was getting impatient that he went out twice to smoke and cursed at the delay on the negotiation.
"They ought to be shipped back if I had my way." Alan grumbled to Blake then, while he took his second smoke. But that was now a need with Christopher getting the backing of the Eastern boys.
The trip back should be four hours but with the rain, they reckon it would take six hours or more. Actually it was past six hours, and they were still on the road. The journey was plagued by the heavy rains and visibility was bad. Blake could hardly make out the path ahead with the dim light on the Ford. At some turning, they were diverted off the main roads due to mud slides by the traffic cops. It was Alan' other nephew, Anthony who suggested that they used the old roads listed on some old maps.
"Hey Uncle Nates." Anthony was the taller and handsome nephew with some brains, and not like Stanley. He was also groomed to replace the man himself on his expiration in case if Freddy fails but Anthony knew that was either a lengthy or short wait, unless someone took a gun on the uncle and Freddy.
"Yup, Uncle Nates." It was the other nephew; Stanley, unlike his cousin, he was shorter and had a nastier mood swings. He was said to be on medication for his ailment. The doctors said he was suffering from some sort of anxiety issues, and needed sedatives. The doctor ended up dead in the swimming pool that day. That ended all of the discussion on Stanley' health.
Stanley pulled up the map from his jacket. He found the map in the house before they leave.
"I got these from the old desk." Alan had an old desk that he refused to discard; he claimed it was his reminder of the old days when he was younger and outlasted everyone in the brawl. He never mentioned much of his friends then, but he spoke highly of his fights.
"Let me looked at it." Alan took hold of the map. It was the old map when he was doing the bootlegging drives. He passed it to Blake. "Follow that."
"Mr.Nates, that ...." Blake tried to tell the man but he was past listening.
"Cut your whining. I want to be back before midnight." Alan replied. He was in need to leave for an early appointment the next morning. More, he was still pissed by the East Coast families doing this behind his back. Then he was thinking of the proposed alliance with the Irish clans. That would had pissed Christopher.
After an hour of plodding through the old roads without any street lamps and cars, they made some good time on the miles but the man was unhappy.
"Blake, where did you learn to drive?" Alan was taking it on the driver of his car. He was already fuming at the delay and the lack of bathrooms on the routes. "I am in need of the bathroom again".
"Mr Nates, there are no stops I could see." Blake told his boss. "I could pulled over."
It was then the comical side of Stanley flared up. He leaned out his leg and unzipped his pants. He peed into the rain.
"Works fine for me, Uncle." They all laughed including Blake who was trying to keep on driving with the unfamiliar roads. He had reservations on the journey. So did the other drivers.
They were bootlegger drivers on the Ford Trucks with the heavier loads. Sure, they been on the odd roads but then they never had three passengers breathing down their neck. Ernie was one who sang while he was driving, but with his new load, he was fuming from the lack of songs to sing. He also told Blake at the previous stopover, the old road was more than dangerous, it was haunted.
"Blake, some geezers told me at night back some years, the ghoulies come out and scared the freaking hell of them when they took this road. I ain't raring to drive there."
Blake glared at his old driving mate. He knew better than to question the boss. Not when he was Mr. Nates. Blake shut up the rest of his team of drivers.
"Shut up for your own sakes. Or Mr Nates would be placing you inside concrete pillars."
Fucked was the mood on Blake' mind. It was then during the laughter, Blake swerved to avoid the fallen tree across the road. The Ford was a good car but the rain made the brakes bad. He turned the wheel, and hit the tree on the side. The second car behind him braked in time but the one behind rammed into his rear. It was a bad night.
"I would be damned, if you guys ever drove my trucks without spilling any of the liquor." Alan was upset at the last load when they lost one truck when pursued by the police. The driver ditched the truck and ran for into the woods.
Blake and his team got out and inspected the damages. He also looked at the road condition and then reported to Alan.
"Mr Nates, we are done for. The road ahead looks as bad. The cars are a write off." Blake commented to Alan. It was Ernie who walked up and said he saw lights ahead.
"I think there are some people's homes there." Ernie replied as he pointed to the hill above. "I saw some lights ahead."
"Ernie, have you been puffing lately?" Stanley asked him.
"No, Sir. I been cleaned for months now." Ernie was puffing the opium at one time, for his back pain. It was Alan who spoke up.
"Get the guns. We are walking to the homes." No one questioned the man. They went for the violin bags and whatever they deemed of value. It was then they woke up the Attorney, Gonzales who had slept through the journey. He was part Hispanic and Italian, but he walked like any Wall Street player in his expensive suit and shoes. He was short but with his erect walk, he looked taller. He had one a thin mustache growth on his upper lips to give him the serious look. He stretched himself up with his long limbs cramped inside the vehicle for the last hour.
"Gonzo, we walking." Stanley woke up the sleeping Attorney. "The cars are wiped out."
Gonzo opened his eyes and looked out. It was still raining but he knew what happened. He was not really sleeping; how could he with the stiff leather seats and bad roads. Plus his back hurts from the driving condition. He had his eyes closed to avoid any sights of the impending doom of dying in a crash. He stretched out and grabbed his coat.
"Hey, Gonzo. Pass me the gun." Stanley asked him to reached for the sub-machine gun at the leg area. Gonzo looked at the man.
"Stanley, I don't touch guns. Pick it up yourself." Gonzo stepped out on the other side. He was the family attorney for their mishaps with the law. He had plucked Stanley out of the troubles since High School, and ain't nobody stooge. Even Alan give him leeway to speak his mind and dare not questioned his views. They may be some shouts but it would be the person Gonzales was to appeal for.
"Fuck you, Gonzo." Gonzales heard the man but he ignored the fiery tempered man. He put on his coat and grabbed the attache case that contained his needed tools. He looked to the dark woods showered by the rain and cursed at it.
"I would be darned if someone offered me shelter now lest I spent another minute in this rain." Gonzales hated the water since he was once saved from drowning in the pool. Since then, he had avoided the rain or pool, for he was aiming to keep himself alive. That was also why he had the overcoat with him wherever he was out.
"No wetness for my suit." Gonzales mumbled to himself. He then saw the main man walking ahead and joined in.
Fifteen men walking into the woods on a rainy night hardly gets noticed but they were.
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