Pairings/Characters (this chapter): Phil D’Andrea, Mel/Johnny (Johnny does not appear in this chapter), Paul Maglioli, Angelo Ricotti
Series Notes: Tears Of The Saints will deal with the Outfit/Syndicate (aka the Mob) and how they cross paths with the Dillinger Gang and the Bureau of Investigation. It helps to have first-hand knowledge of Italian culture and Catholicism. ;)
Fandom: Public Enemies
Genres: AU, Drama
Rating (this chapter): R
Warnings: Threat of mutilation
General Summary: When the Syndicate needs the special talents of John Dillinger, they take out insurance that he will do the job they want by kidnapping someone near and dear to his heart: Melvin Purvis.
Chapter Summary: Mel’s frustration builds as he learns more about the danger threatening both him and Johnny.
Date Of Completion: February 2, 2010
Date Of Posting: March 17, 2010
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Universal does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 804
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
The entire series can be found here.
“Lay off, Maglioli!”
Mel’s heart hammered in his chest as he felt the coldness of the stiletto on his finger. He was close enough to his attacker’s face to smell his garlic-laced breath.
For a terrible moment, time was frozen, then Maglioli released Mel’s hand, contempt curling his lip.
Mel snatched his hand back and looked around, eyes widening as he saw the newcomer. His stomach clenched.
Phil D’Andrea angrily motioned Maglioli over. “Don’t mutilate our hostage without orders,” he hissed.
Maglioli played with his stiletto. “Whatever you say, Mr. D’Andrea.” He put the leg iron back on Mel, who bit back a wince as he glared defiantly, his head throbbing with a killer headache.
Phil waited for the thug to leave before coming into the room and closing the door behind him. He pulled the rocking chair over to the bed.
“Sorry about that, Agent Purvis.”
“This is a very dangerous game you’re playing, Mr. D’Andrea. You have kidnapped a Federal agent, suh.” Mel did his best to keep his voice steady and resisted the urge to rub his finger to make sure it was still there.
“Yes, well, you needn’t worry you about your situation.”
Mel’s eyes were weary. “We both know I can’t be permitted to stay alive after seeing your faces.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean? You know I will identify you.”
Phil crossed his legs and arms, sitting back. “Do you really think that you want to tell your boss that the reason you were taken was to put pressure on John Dillinger to do a little job for us?”
“Johnny? What are you pressuring him to do?” Mel asked fearfully.
Phil regarded him curiously. “You shouldn’t play poker, Agent Purvis. Your face is a dead giveway.”
Annoyed, Mel rubbed the skin above his raw ankle. He wished that he could slip his fingers in behind the leg iron, but it was too tight. “Why are you pressuring him?”
“I can’t give you details.”
The men sat in silence for a moment, music muffled behind the closed door. Someone had turned the radio on.
Mel said bitterly, “I suppose you disapprove of John and me, just like your minions here.”
Phil smirked. “I don’t care who you boink, Agent Purvis. I don’t have the parochial attitude of my employers.”
Mel eyed Phil warily, as if unable to believe him.
“If John does this thing for you, will you let me go?”
Phil nodded. “Like I said, you won’t talk. You never saw anyone’s faces, heard no names, and Mr. Hoover won’t have any reason to get jealous.”
“Yeah.” Phil smirked again. “We know about him and the Associate Director. We got pictures. We also know about him wantin’ to get in your pants.” At Mel’s blush, Phil laughed. “Even if you did blab, Hoover will shut you up. He’ll go after independents like Dillinger, but he’ll leave us alone. You watch. You’ll see.”
Disturbed by the implications, Mel tried again. “What is John supposed to do for you?”
“Oh, well, what the hell? Rob the State Street Bank for us.”
“What!” Mel leaned forward. “That’s suicide! He can’t possibly succeed right here in Chicago! Every cop, corrupt or clean, will high-tail it down there like a backwoods Florence County sheriff with his bloodhounds a’bayin’ just to get John Dillinger!” Agitation thickened his Southern accent.
“He’s the best there is. If anyone can get this job done, it’ll be your man Johnny.”
Mel clamped down on his panic. He dare not show his hand. Phil D’andrea was too damned sharp.
“Why does the Syndicate want Johnny to rob a bank? You make a lot more money with your rackets than from a mere bank job.”
“We got our reasons. Now, Agent Purvis, you just take it easy and it’ll be all over soon. You’ll be back home with your Johnny before you know it.” Phil rose from the rocking chair. “Need anything?”
“A menu more varied than bread and water.”
Phil frowned. “Sorry ‘bout that. Ricotti!”
The gangster came in the room. “Yeah, Boss?”
“I want to talk to you and Maglioli.”
Phil said, “Try and relax, Agent Purvis. It shouldn’t be long now,” and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Mel yanked on the chain, desperation fueling his panic. He had to get out of here!
He had no illusions about getting out of this alive. Phil might believe that Nitti was going to let him go, but Mel wasn’t about to count on that.
And even if he was released, would he find his Johnny in custody, or worse, dead?
He put his aching head in his hands.