Robofootball: Doublespin

Dano Verlucci looked up from his newspaper and stared down at Reynolds. As a small measure of dominance, but nothing quite like that of an arrogant know-it-all judge, Dano’s chair and desk sat up a few inches where the floor had been raised purposefully to accommodate fiber optic cables and computers for communication, not to mention some wiring for the numerous alarm systems. The elevated part was only completed on Mr. Verlucci’s side of the office where his desk and chair sat. Dano’s office was part of a family restaurant and banquet facility complete with a basement bar that once served as a Speakeasy when his grandfather Vincent was making liquor runs to Canada for Don Berzzini’s growing illegal enterprises. Dano’s office was on the partial 2nd floor that looked over the banquet area with a 1-way window with a very heavy soundproof blind made of vinyl with some thick padding.

The original part of the building was more of an old 2-story joisted masonry structure with double layers of brick and headers every 9 rows where the 4” x 8” bricks were stacked width-wise as opposed to length-wise for extra strength. This type of construction was known to stop cannon balls down south during the Civil War. The balls might lodge into the brick, but it took dozens in a full blown siege to actually take down a solid double-layered brick wall. The ceilings were nice and high, 12-footers, another spacious architectural wonder that had long since been tossed aside in the name of cost-effectiveness and energy efficiency. The floor and roof joists were a full 2 inches thick and supported in the center by 12’ x 12’ beams. The banquet hall was also made of 2-layered brick and rose to the height of 2 stories though it was level with the original structure. The ceilings were so high that the banquet area could have served as a gymnasium with a dozen rows of bleachers.

Dano Verlucci hit a button and the heavy blind came down on hidden tracks like a fold up overhead steel door, only without the grating noise. The banquet center was empty for the time being with rows of fresh white-paper-covered tables and folding chairs. The kitchen was partly under Dano’s office and catered to both the banquet hall and the restaurant whose entrance was at street level. A private elevator and an indoor staircase to comply with fire safety codes were all available to access the second floor. Dano’s outer office contained a secretary, usually two guards who sat between the elevator and the entrance door to the inner staircase, and of course Bruno, who was more or less the door guard to Dano Verlucci’s office. At times, any of the 3 men could be inside Dano’s office for orders and occasionally a drink. They could be sent on errands too, but for the most part, they spent much of their time reading magazines or books, listening to their IPods and watching a television that Dano had generously provided for them in the spacious lobby-like area outside of his office.

Bruno was the monster, a man that 2 normal men would hesitate to take on physically. The other 2 were smaller, as was 99.999% of the population when compared to Bruno, one at 6 feet, the other just 5’8” tall; however, both were experienced made men and proven expert marksmen with small arms. They were coached to shoot first and ask questions later in times of duress or from a simple hand signal from Dano Verlucci. Three successive taps on his desk with his left 4 fingers meant that the man in front of Dano’s desk was to be taken out, preferably away from the office, but all bets were off in an emergency situation. Killing and organized crime had become much rarer especially after the purges of the 1980’s and 1990’s when the FBI racketeering task force instituted the RICO provisions to fight it. Organized crime went further undercover and some, like the Verlucci’s, became more legit. Gone were the days when thugs showed up to collect money especially since Don Berzzini had simply taken a stake in a business that he protected; thus, sharing directly in the bottom line legally.

Dano had to deal with a potential police informant in his employ that was being leveraged by the Detroit police after an arsonist fingered him. The Verlucci’s owned a fire reclamation business that cleaned and restored buildings after fires; if work was going slow, one of the capos would find someone to torch a building, preferably one that had good insurance. The arsonist got caught and gave up the capo. Not content with middle management, an ambitious DA and a Detroit police captain made a run for Dano by promising the capo immunity. Dano had called in the capo and Bruno relieved him of his gun and a wire that was disguised as a common St. Christopher medal. They found an ear piece in the frame of the man’s glasses too.

The man panicked and had one of those slick sliding blades that popped out of the front of his shoe. He made a sorry attempt at leaping toward Dano when Bruno grabbed him by the back of the collar with one hand and flung him with such force backward that the man toppled over what had been his chair, hit a bookcase behind him, and both books and the case came crashing down upon him. By the time Bruno moved the chair out of the way, and was hauling the bookcase back up, the two other guards came in and one shot the man before Bruno could retrieve him and snap his neck. Dano had gone as far as cocking the shotgun under his desk, but that was the closest he had come to using it, and that was some 15 years in the past. It was no big deal to Dano who sat more amused than anything else, it would at least give the 3 men something productive to do for a few hours, a little clean-up and body disposal.

“Sorry boss,” the shorter shooter had said who had plugged the man right in the heart twice with 9mm hollow points.

“Just clean it up,” Dano replied as he waved it off.

“Communion or confirmation?” The other 6-foot shooter asked.

Dano thought a moment, “Communion.” Communion meant to rest with the fishes, ‘no body no crime’ his father once said. Confirmation of a dead body was only warranted if something like an insurance payout was on the line. Mysterious disappearances could hold up life insurance benefits for years.

“You got it boss.”

Dano was reminiscing about the event as Reynolds sat a little nervously in front of him. The time with the old capo turned informant was about the last time he had cocked the shotgun and had his hand on the trigger. He made a mental note that he would have to have one of the shooters clean, oil, and fire it at the range one of these days just to keep it in proper working order. He folded his newspaper in front of him taking a look at the RFL box scores. “We’re 3-3 at the halfway point,” he mused.

“Yes,” Reynolds said.

“Our pals in Vegas have given us 12-1 odds of making the playoffs, 30-1 for winning it all. Now if I were a betting man,” Dano smiled letting the irony sink in, “What should I do?”

“You mean bet for or against us?”

“That’s why I called you in, I want your assessment.”

“Well Texas is 6-0, Chicago and New York are 5-1,” said Reynolds stating the obvious.

“Right now, they’re giving Texas even up 1 to 1 odds of winning it all, New York is 2 to1, and Chicago is 3 to 1. There’s also 3 teams with 4-2 records, but their odds go from 8 to 1 on up to 20 to 1 for winning the championship. Then there’s us. I don’t want to drop a mil on Texas, I’m looking for a bigger score.”

“Playoffs or the whole enchilada?”

“You tell me,” said Dano.

Reynolds thought carefully, “We have 6 games left, 3 we should win, that’s Arkansas and Daytona who are both 0-6, and we have Wichita the last game. The other 3 will be tough. We play Chicago here at home in week 8 after we whip Arkansas. The game with Chicago will be important since it’s in the division. We have to play Texas and Baltimore too before our last game with Wichita.”

“How many wins will it take for you to make the playoffs?”

“Baltimore got in last year with 8.”

“So, you’d have to win 5 out of your last 6 to have a reasonable chance, that means 2 out of 3 against 3 teams that made the playoffs last year.”

“Chicago, Baltimore, and Texas,” Reynolds reiterated.

“I can make a little money against Arkansas and Daytona, they’re 0-6,” Dano gestured and flapped the newspaper. Italians were always animated and spoke well with their hands.

“Stay under the spread?” Reynolds inquired.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Dano put the paper down.

“What do you want me to do?” Reynolds asked a little perplexed.

Dano Verlucci sat further back in his chair and clasped his hands over his growing stomach. He stood 5’10”, the same as Reynolds, but had him by about 32 pounds; unfortunately, most of the excess was in the older man’s midsection that was partially contained by fine custom tailored suits. He then leaned forward for full effect, “I want you to make the playoffs.”

Reynolds sat back. There was a lot going on in his head. Could he get his chosen QB back on the field? He needed 5 wins, 3 he was quite sure of, but taking 2 of 3 from the top teams would be difficult, and then even 8 wins was no guarantee. His uncle he surmised correctly had already made up his mind. He guessed that his Uncle Dano was betting, about to bet, or likely had already placed his bet, and his ass was on the line, which in turn, put Reynolds in Hell’s seat, the hottest of the hot. “I’ll do my best,” Reynolds finally said.

“You had better,” Dano replied with just a faint hint of warning.

“Do you still want us to stay within the spread? We’re a 28-point favorite against Arkansas next week.”

“Nope, don’t worry about that, I’m putting my money and your future on making the playoffs,” Dano Verlucci was not a man who beat around the bush. “The risks are great I know,” he acquiesced slightly, “But so are the rewards. You make this work, you might be taking my seat one day, and there’ll be a huge payoff for both of us. You don’t, and well, there’ll be consequences,” Dano Verlucci let the thought linger for a moment. “Anyhow, get out of here, I’m sure you’ve got a lot to do.” At the last word the door mysteriously opened by a hand that was so large that it looked like it was opening a knob on a doll house with thumb and forefinger. Reynolds nodded in respect as Bruno escorted him out.

When the door closed behind them, Dano got on the phone, “Uncle Sal?”

“Yes?” Came a distant raspy voice.

“Make the bets.”

“It’s done.”

“Good-bye.”

“Ciao,” Uncle Sal made his own call to his contacts in Las Vegas, namely to a man named Carmona, the silent majority owner of the billion dollar Venetian Casino. One million was placed on Michigan making the playoffs at a reduced 10 to 1 odds to accommodate such a large bet. The kicker was that if Michigan did indeed make the playoffs, then the $10 million won would have to be wagered on them winning the 2nd Cosmic Bowl, also at 10 to 1 odds instead of the 30 to 1 currently listed. A highly improbable $100 million was on the line. If Carmona lost, his payout to the Verlucci’s would not be in cash, but for a one quarter share in the Venetian itself, a business whose annual revenue was in the tens of millions. It was the Verlucci way passed down from Don Berzzini to grab a stake in a business.

Uncle Sal also placed a token $100,000 side bet with his contact at Caesar’s Palace at the full 12 to 1 odds for making the playoffs. This would allow Dano to recoup his million invested with Carmona with a little change leftover, provided that Reynolds came through, at least playoff-wise. $100,000 was the most Uncle Sal could get at 12 to 1, any more and the bookmakers would lower the odds like Carmona had done, and even add some further stipulations.

Fan Ch’ih asked about Goodness. The Master said, “In private life, courteous, in public life, diligent, in relationships, loyal.”

Confucius, The Analects, XIII. 19.