The Loyal Lieutenants Act Zero Scene One

 

Act Zero

Scene One.

 

The T-Fort stopped abruptly and caused the passenger to jolt forward. The seat was hard, and so was the driving. Frank “Best” Basile was the driver; he drove the precinct vehicles chasing the runaway gang boys, having more than a dozen crashes to his credit, but he nabbed them wounded or killed by bad driving skills. He drove for the new agent of the Treasury Agency supervising the Prohibition Act.

Elliot Ness was new to Rome, fresh out of the academy, and was assigned to Treasury as their Federal Agent, was raring to prove himself. He asked to be posted to Rome when he was told that next to New York, Rome was next in line of focus for the team.

“Ness, no one wants to be in Rome. Not when you valued your pension.” Elliot was told.

“Yes, Sir. I want to be there.” Elliot Ness took the challenge.

“If that is what you asked for, then it will be yours. You can pack and leave by this weekend. Say your...”

“I ain’t go nobody to do that for. I can be there tomorrow.” Elliot took the next train out to Rome on a one-way ticket. He reached there two days later, after three switches in the train.

“Agent Ness, we are here.” The driver told him then. “I will be in the yard waiting.”

Best was on suspension when he rammed the Captain’s Ford in the chase; he could not help it, for the runaway had taken the Captain’s Ford and driven off. The captain gave the command to get it back, and ‘Best’ did his utmost. He rammed the Captain’s Ford on the left side at the intersection at the top speed of forty-five miles per hour. It was a high impact for the left side of the other T-Ford crushed on impact but the runaway survived, though, as a seventeen-year-old trying to prove he could drive.

“It is my dad’s vehicle.” It does pay to be the captain’s son. The son was given bail, and Best in his best driving record was given the suspension till Elliot Ness turned up.

“Call me Elliot. I am new here.” Elliot Ness introduced himself to the driver.

“Call me ‘Best.’ I was told to show you around. Rome is a very nice city, but there is a lot of cleaning every morning. Yesterday’s gutter is today’s clean up.” Best or Frank “Best” Basile held an emancipated figure, probably from the smoke he smelled of, and was dressed like a baggage man: an oversized jacket and loose pants with a waist belt and worn-out rubber shoes. You could never tell if he was armed, for the holster could be blended into his body frame.

Elliot took his bags and walked into the precinct station. He passed by two officers chatting over smoke.

“I heard Moses got iced last night.” The one that spoke took a deep breath of the joint. “They packed him in ice and dropped the slab into the sea.”

Ness stopped by the doorway to hear more, looking for his cigarette. He hardly smoked and when he does, it was when he needed to think.

“He is hard boiled but, in the gangs, getting bumped off is common.” The other who stood there with the cigarette on his left-hand fingers.

“I can agree, but they normally shoot you or the cement shoes as reported from the others up North. Whoever thought of the iced shoe. That is a new one.  The earlier one laughed

“We would not a pinch on this case.” The other laughed. “Heard the captain said he will pass it to someone new.”

It was then the door was opened outwards and knocked at Elliot. He stepped back to let the person stepped out. His cigarette unlit was bent by the impact. He tossed it away and then took to go inside. It was like any precinct layout; the first desk you see is the Sergeant desk to take the complaints and shovel it to the detectives of the uniformed.

Elliot went up to the Precinct Sargeant, seated behind the high counter. It was like looking up to Saint Peter when you reached the Pearly Gates for the desk was higher at eye level to Elliot. The Sergeant was semi-bald and slumped over the counter to get a peek at whoever was standing there.

“Do not give me any hassle on your kisser about your dame, Scott.” The Desk Sergeant was shouting to the officer who was leaving the doorway. “I will send her the overtime later. That will please her then.”

The departing officer had slammed the door on the Sergeant then.

“What do you want here? Someone took your Moll (Girl) too?” The Desk Officer looked at Elliot.

“Agent Elliot Ness, Treasury.”

“Second door on the right, upstairs. The captain will see you pronto.” The Desk Sergeant told Elliot. “Leave your bags there. I will secure them at your assigned desk later.”

Elliot reluctantly left his bags and overcoat there in the corner pointed out by the Sergeant. He took to the stairs to the next level. It was the exclusive realm of the detectives, and other more esteemed sections. He saw that the hustle and bustle of the station was no different from the others in the cities; busy doing their paperwork, inhaling bad air from the cigarette’s puffs, and drinking bad coffee but one thing he noticed was that almost everyone have a shotgun, or a tommy gun near their desk. He did not ask why and proceeded to the captain’s office marked with the sign; Enter at your own RISK. The door was partially closed.

“Who are you to come here?” The captain; below the height of being tall, slim figure looked smaller on the seat looked at Elliot when the latter walked in after knocking on the door.

“Agent Elliot Ness, Treasury reporting, sir." The captain; below the height of being tall, slim figure looked smaller on the seat looked at Elliot. “I am assigned from...”

“Get your ass to the coroner at Seventh Street. Someone bumped off a gang member. He is ranked Lieutenant. Get the work done. I am busy.”

“Sir, I am...” Ness was to protest and handed over his papers. His assignment was to check on illegal activities under the Prohibition Act.

“I do not give a fuck about what your order is. Here in my office, you do as you are told, or take your bags to the train station.” The captain took the papers and tossed it into the tray on his table.

“But, Captain……’

“The name is Captain Armstrong, and I am short of manpower. My detectives are all busy catching dames and drunks, and if one dead criminal turns up dead, we have no one keen to take up the case. You savvy on that?” 

The captain was not lying then. A gang member who gets killed, and was probably by another gang, and it is better not to stand in the middle. Let them shoot each other; it was one way to reduce the number of gang members. It was also to ensure they get their pensions upon retirement.

“No objection…...” It was not a question, but a statement from the captain. “So, get your tail there.”

The captain was all nice about it. It was how Elliot Ness was treated the first day.