[October 1927 – Chicago]
Vincent ‘Bugsy’ Stallone came into his office in a bad mood.
“Those bastards from Justice are getting to be a real pain in the arse. We just lost another shipment of beer between the Port and the Warehouse. It is that agent Ford again. He gets everywhere, the bastard. He must have informants on almost every street corner.”
The blonde-haired woman sitting next to his big polished oak desk looked up from filing her nails.
“What are we going to do? We have customers who rely on us. That’s the fourth this month.”
“Doll, don’t I just know it. Now that Big John and the rest are out of action it is down to the likes of us to keep this city drinking.
“Won’t this just blow over?” asked the woman.
Recent comments