Omerta Mafia Code of Silence: Part One and Part Two

By Mark Biermann and Rona Newton

Marko Bennett a handsome young marine recently returned home from two and a half years in the Special Services, in the front line in Afghanistan, fighting against the Taliban.

Complete adrenalin junkie, spoilt rich kid who enjoys hanging out with Head of the Crips, Leroy Brown reputed L.A. gangster.

Racing Nascars for his big name sponsors, stealing expensive luxury sports cars, Marko street races for Leroy and is linked with the gambling syndicate doing cocaine deals on the side. He winds up in trouble with the law and is sent to New York, by his father the head of the LAPD, who has firm ties to the mafia.

Edward Martin, Head Attorney for the Mafia, based in New York, takes young Marko under his wing setting him up as personal assistant to his wife Alessandra who has a label in the Fashion Industry. He has a steamy romance with their daughter Georgia who also works for the massive Fashion Enterprise.

He becomes a made man hanging out with hard core mobsters and now enjoys very close relations with Ciro Pistone, (The Don), Frankie Napatano, (Underboss) and other core gang members.

Actively entrenched in the Mafia as activities and hanging out with the Cartels son, he becomes involved with the Cartels daughter Francesca and falls madly in love. A twist of fate leads him back to New York on a revenge fuelled rampage of murder and bloodshed linking all the way to the White House.

Now a Captain with the mob, he is fully entrenched in the day to day activities of the mob, Jet setting to Sicily, Ibiza and Monaco living the life of a movie star, doing arms deals with the Bosnians and contract hits for the mob.

A powerful story full of action, murder, extortion and romance as Marko becomes one of the untouchables, but will he survive to rise up the Mafia ranks

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Sep 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781493122714

Mark Biermann

Rona Newton Born in North Queensland, one of eight children, growing up at small beachside village called Shoal Point. Rona studied business in Melbourne then travelled and worked around Australia and overseas. She has four grown children and currently works in Sales, Marketing and Design. She has a love for creative art and writing. Mark Biermann Born in Wollongong, New South Wales, from German Parents, Mark grew up around the surfing culture in the suburb of Coniston. Creative and ambitious, he currently works in the mining industry in Wollongong. Having enjoyed travel overseas, this is his first literary work, but enjoys all types of creative writing.

Book preview

Copyright © 2015 by Rona Newton & Mark Biermann.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2013919418

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-4931-2270-7

                Softcover        978-1-4931-2269-1

                eBook               978-1-4931-2271-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 09/21/2015

Xlibris

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CONTENTS

PART ONE

Acknowledgement

Introduction

The Target… Green Zone

Chapter 1: NASCAR Circuit, LA

Chapter 2: The Ritz Carlton Hotel

Chapter 3: LAPD Office

Chapter 4: Courtroom New York

Chapter 5: Ciro Pistone’s Club, Manhattan, ‘Cococobana’

Chapter 6: Richard Bennett’s Residence

Chapter 7: Jimmy Balucci’s Office

Chapter 8: Leroy’s Mansion, Beverley Hills

Chapter 9: The Mafia Enterprise

Chapter 10: Fight Night in the Big Apple

Chapter 11: Pavarotti’s Last Performance

Chapter 12: Marko Flies to New York

Chapter 13: The Hit Down in LA

Chapter 14: Marko’s Encounter with Georgia

Chapter 15: Marko and Alessandra Head to Paris

Chapter 16: The Mob Get Indicted

Chapter 17: White Christmas in New York

Chapter 18: The Swiss Alps Getaway

Chapter 19: Marko Is Brought into the Mob

Chapter 20: Georgia Catches Marko Out

PART TWO

Acknowledgement

Foreword…

Pistone Mafia Crime Family

Chapter 1: Marko Does His Time…

Chapter 2: Homecoming for Marko

Chapter 3: NASCAR Days Return

Chapter 4: Club Rumba

Chapter 5: The Mobsters Fly to Sicily

Chapter 6: The Mobsters Fly to Monaco

Chapter 7: St Tropez, Playground of the Rich and Famous

Chapter 8: Edward Faces Court for the Mobsters

Chapter 9: Title Fight in Las Vegas

Chapter 10: Frankie Buys the Warehouse

Chapter 11: Mobsters Back in the Courtroom

Chapter 12: Leroy’s Party Palace

Chapter 13: Fashion Extravaganza in LA

Chapter 14: Two Years Later – Colombia

Chapter 15: The Greek Islands

Chapter 16: Undercover Agents Meet the Butcher

Chapter 17: Agents Rage War on Cartel

Chapter 18: The Cartel’s Revenge

Chapter 19: New York, New York…

Chapter 20: Wedding Bells

Chapter 21: Greece and Turkey…

PART ONE

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

To my son Mark and my daughters Jessica, Jordana, and Brittanie

Who have always believed in me . . .

American Mafiosi Structure (La Cosa Nostra)

Don – The head of the family, called the Don or Godfather. The Don receives a cut of every operation taken on by every member of his family. His decisions are final, and he is never questioned in matters concerning the family.

Underboss – The Underboss, usually appointed or approved by the Don, is the second-in-command of the family. The Underboss is in charge of all the Caporegimes (Capos) who are controlled by the Don. The Underboss is usually first in line to become Acting Boss or Don if the Don is ill, is imprisoned, or dies.

Consigliere – Consigliere is an advisor to the family. They are often low-profile gangsters who can be trusted. They are used as a mediator to resolve disputes or representatives in meetings with other families. They often look to keep the family look as legitimate as possible. Often the Consigliere is a lawyer or broker trusted by the family and has a close relationship with the Don liaising with the likes of politicians or judges.

Caporegime or Capo – A Capo (sometimes referred to as a Captain) is in charge of a crew. There are usually four to six crews in each family, with up to ten soldiers. Capos run their own family but are still instructed by the Don. Capos are nominated by the Underboss, but typically chosen and approved by the Don himself.

Soldier – Soldiers are members of the family usually of Sicilian or Italian background. Soldiers are recommended by other family members and must be vouched for by members of the family and also must be approved by the Don (Godfather).

Associate – An Associate can be of high profile or just the run around for the mob or errand boy. He is not a made member of the mob and often used as a go-between for drug deals and illicit gambling to keep the heat off the actual mobsters.

INTRODUCTION

A ll of the world’s attention was riveted on the Taliban in Afghanistan due mainly to the brutal attacks on the World Trade Centre in September 2001.

The accused were indeed the Taliban in Afghanistan and were supposedly providing a safe sanctuary to the Al–Qaeda groups including the notorious Osama Bin Laden.

After a US-led onslaught, the Taliban were reportedly knocked off their perch but neither their leader Mullah Mohommad Omar or Osama Bin Laden was taken into custody nor was any evidence brought forward that they were killed in action. In more recent times, the Taliban had basically re-emerged in Afghanistan and developed into a more aggressive faction in Pakistan, where the community had commented on the activity between militant groups and Taliban factions.

Press Release: News Headlines… The New York Times.

The Islamic Taliban movement has been documented of its re-emergence as a real fighting force in Afghanistan becoming a major threat to its government.

President Barack Obama announces plans to send 30,000 more troops into Afghanistan to tackle the Taliban, on the front line in Helmand province.

Today after more than three months of deliberation, President Barack Obama has given an announcement that he will be deploying a further 30,000 troops to Afghanistan bringing the total number to more than 100,000. He went on to say that the soldiers would be deployed as fast as possible to target the insurgency and said that the existing troops in Afghanistan were lacking vital support.

In support of this statement he advised that the troop surge would expedite the handover of responsibility to the Afghan forces, and then bring forward the timeframe for the transfer of US forces out of Afghanistan with a hopeful deadline of 2013.

THE TARGET… GREEN ZONE

T he US marines had just received their orders. The military had been ready to deploy troops for some time to take on the Taliban in the district of Marjah. This was not the first assault they had carried out on Marjah. This festering area of Marjah had long been regarded as one of the last main insurgent-controlled areas. This location was the core centre of opium production, often referred to as the Green Zone of Helmand Province. The strip along the main river, irrigated by canals, was well known as a volatile hot spot full of insurgents. Some eight hundred to one thousand Taliban were hiding out in this area with a civilian population of the surrounding area of approximately one hundred and thirty thousand. Today, the US marines had to travel about twenty-five miles to reach Marjah from the provincial capital of Lashkar Gah.

Ten thousand of the US Marines and an additional twenty-one thousand soldiers were going into the Kandahar area to assist as there were reports of very heavy combat taking place. The rising number of casualties of US and foreign forces was apparent with the clashes between the Taliban taking place in very remote and hard-to-get-to areas. The idea was to basically remove the area of insurgents and allow the overseas forces to work with local institutions to assist in reconstruction and offer support for the local law. Well, that’s what the politicians want the rest of the world to believe.

Fierce political debates amongst the Heads of the European Countries and the American President about troop commitments in Afghanistan were going nowhere. There appeared to be no real indication as to when this war was going to end, even though Obama talked about a deadline of pulling out in twenty thirteen.

The Taliban had been digging in hard and reasserting control in Marjah. This year had proven to be the worst for major casualties and without a doubt the bloodiest year in the field. Support of this war appeared to be on the decline as more and more troops were being massacred in the field as a result of the unrelenting conflict.

The reality was the Americans did not want this war to end. The positioning of troops in the Green Zone was exactly what the political arena wanted. This was the biggest supply of raw opium, and the Americans wanted to maintain and to control as much of the action that they could get hold of. By taking control of certain strategic areas of the Green Zone, they could continually tap into this highly liquid money pot. Not only were the vast poppy fields funding the factions, but the American government was also ‘unofficially locked in’ to this huge Mecca of heroin. The infiltration with the troops was to ensure their presence in this going-nowhere war, with the Green Zone funding combat weapons, artillery, aircraft, and drones all the way back to the White House.

Marko Bennett’s company had been living and breathing all through these poppy fields for the past two years. The amount of heroin that came from this area was mind-blowing. The troops forcefully took control of large areas of the fields, guarding them and keeping the workers safe on the premise that a large slice of the pie would go to the US Government. Children as young as eight were full-blown addicts, working alongside their mothers scrapping the white sap in the fields. The makeshift shelters at the edges of the fields housed the addicts with their dirty utensils and young neglected children. The irony of it all, the fields didn’t get blown up from either the factions or the overseas militant groups.

Marko’s company moved very swiftly through the array of booby traps surrounding them by first firing off some minefield-breaching rockets, to blast openings through the improvised explosive device (IEDs). The outskirts of this area were full of highly dangerous remotely detonated devices.

The noisy drones kept sounding above them, unseen, as they tried to pinpoint the enemy, and in the distance, they heard the continuous thump, thump, thump of helicopter rotors adding to the constant combat sounds. Today, the enemy was proving hard to pinpoint.

The main emphasis here in Zad was to bring in the governor, clear the IEDs, and attempt to re-build the place. Previously, the Taliban had been mocking the overseas military forces. The Americans just wanted the Taliban taken out no matter what it took and there would be opportunities soon enough. All day, the troops on foot gained a little more ground on the Taliban. The next day, an American company killed twelve Al–Qaeda guerrillas and pulled in about the same amount of detainees fortunately with no casualties to their company. At the same time, they discovered numerous caches containing dozens of IEDs, but for most of the day, the enemy had remained undetected. The plot to surround and take out this group had been well executed.

The ground troops said very little as the days rolled on, and the fighting was right in their faces on the front line in Marjah. Remotely detonated explosives had been going off all day, and nine marines died from one company. The blast was within fifty metres of Marko and Irish’s company where they had been holed up. The dead troops were not just Americans, but there were also Soldiers from UK, Australia, and Canada. Marko looked over to Irish with just a small flame lighting their faces as they talked about the day’s fighting. There was nothing of the dead marine’s bodies to pick up. The blast was so severe their bodies were unrecognisable. Nightfall was now on them in the dirty broken-down compound, and they were trying to bed down and get some well-earned sleep before they were back into the thick of it tomorrow. Who knew what tomorrow might bring for them? It did not bear thinking about.

‘I just want to kill them all,’ said Irish to Marko as he lay in the compound, his face staring up at the night’s sky filtering through the mortared roof. Marko’s thoughts were a long way from the war going on around him. He was thinking of Leroy and his gangster friend’s home in Los Angeles (LA). When he first arrived, he was hungry to fight and kill the Taliban, but now he was growing bored with the fighting and the killing, and the longer he stayed here, the odds were that he could be the next one going home in a box. It was only a matter of time.

Marko talked quietly to Irish, relaying more of his wild gangster activities back home in LA. He was laughing hard at the wild crazy things that Marko used to get up to. ‘Your fucken crazy, Marko,’ said Irish. ‘I can’t believe some of the shit you used to get up to. It’s a wonder your dad didn’t kick your ass.’ ‘He probably would have if he knew the half of it,’ said Marko. ‘You and I are going to have one hell of a party when we fly home from this shithole,’ said Irish. ‘Definitely, that is on the cards for sure, and some girls at Leroy’s place, I can’t wait for that. It sure has been a while,’ said Marko.

‘Hey, Marko, what is Osama Bin Laden’s idea of safe sex?’ said Irish. Marko responded, ‘I don’t know, what is his idea of safe sex.’ ‘Marking the camels that kick.’ They both laughed.

Jonathon O’Shea, nicknamed Irish for obvious reasons, looked too young to be at war, with dimpled cheeks and his striking green eyes. He was born of Irish American stock and had a more than jovial character. Marko and Irish had both joined the marines together and were together posted out and lucky enough to be in the same company. Marko was in command of this elite task force, and their company were all a tough bunch. It was dangerous here, and you needed someone to watch your back. The Taliban were very sneaky and very unpredictable. Tomorrow they would be blasting their way through the abandoned farms supposedly hosting more of the elusive Taliban. Today, for these young marines, there were no enemy kills.

‘Do you think we will get out of here alive?’ Irish asked Marko, his green eyes peering out of a tired face blackened with the camouflage streaks.

‘You goddam bet we’re getting out of here alive,’ Marko responded quickly. ‘Now get some sleep, Irish.’

The following four days, the soldiers fought heavy combat and watched close up huge explosions, narrowly avoiding missiles and explosive devises in an attempt to stay alive to see the following day. This whole district seemed to have become a haven for nearly one thousand Taliban fighters and definitely pinpointed as an area for the assembly of roadside bombs. Marines had mortared two men in an area not far away from Marko and Irish’s company. A villager came in and later brought two dead children, dumping them at their feet and claiming they had been killed by American fire.

‘You kill my children,’ he kept screaming to Marko over and over.

Marko responded loudly. ‘We did not kill your children. They have been shot, not mortared, look at their wounds.’ The children had both been shot with a single bullet in the forehead. None the less, seeing the dead children, the cause of death was not the issue; they would not be coming back to life, and the Taliban were not giving up the fight. They had no regard for human life, not the civilians, the marines, or their own. This whole show was a fucking joke.

According to some of the local civilians who had seen the children or looked at photographs of them, there were claims that the children had been shot by the Taliban. The marines received information that a local Taliban commander had been the one to order the deaths, just so that the Americans would be blamed for the killings. Everything was a game. This was a very serious game including playing with the lives of innocents.

Marko and his company took on every day as a challenge to take out as many Taliban as they could, whether in a stand-up fight or at a distance. It did not matter; all the days became the same as they attempted to break the Taliban hold on Marjah and Zad.

Today was a good day with Marko’s company killing eight of the Taliban in a bombed out shelter including a local leader. Marko, a brilliant sniper, shot five of the eight, and Irish took out two. Marko enjoyed the kills. He was angry with a cause, and he wanted to kill as many of the Taliban as possible. That night all the boys in his company celebrated over the kills. As Marko and Irish sat back drinking in the low-lit candle light, they reflected on the reality of how hollow the victory seemed. This was war on the front line.

That night, in the compound in Zad, a direct order came in for Marko’s company. The helicopter was taking them out. After two and a half years, his company was finally going home. A huge cheer sounded from the compound.

CHAPTER ONE

NASCAR Circuit, LA

T he dawn was just breaking, and the sky a soft pink with a thin stretch of stratus clouds threaded with gold across the horizon. The sky was clear as far as the eye could see, and the weather was slightly cool with no threat of rain in sight. Marko opened his eyes and hopped up to shower and prepare to take on the day’s events. He was feeling intense excitement through his body as the warm water washed over his skin. This was a very important day for Marko Bennett. All the preparation had been done over the past few months as he progressed up the ladder into the big league, and he was shooting for the big prize today. It was the final NASCAR race for the season. The money to come in just from the sponsors if he won today would make him a very wealthy entity. He left his apartment and drove to the race track to prepare for the big day ahead.

Track side was abuzz with all the pit crews making their last minute checks to ensure the vehicles were running at peak performance before they drove out on the track. There could be no room for error today, and the pit crew had been working for weeks round the clock to get Marko’s engine to peak performance for the race. He checked over the engine with the pit crew and talked to the boys as they went over the final tune-ups before the race began at ten o’clock sharp.

He had hand-picked his own pit crew, for their expertise and attention to detail and together with his acute driving skill and no-fear attitude had brought him his consistent wins to date. There were always a few minor hitches just before the race, but everything was now set to go, and the car was running like a dream. Marko was talking under the bonnet with his head mechanic Kurt, who gave it the final Ok, and he smiled broadly as he looked up at Marko, ‘Sweet baby, now you go get ’em,’ he said as he gave Marko a high-five slap for good luck.

It was a quarter after nine when Richard and Katherine Bennett and their close friends Frankie and Maria Napatano arrived at the track to support him during the race event. Richard had been his major support all the way with his NASCAR racing career.

Mark Antony Bennett was the only son of Richard and Katherine Bennett and just loved being the centre of attention. From the time he started to walk, he was a complete adrenalin junkie always living on the edge, throwing caution to the wind. As a young boy at school, he excelled in English with a great love for poetry, music, and the opera. But from an early age, his obsession with extreme sports had always been a priority in his day-to-day activities and any adventure remotely related to these types of activities, Marko was right in the thick of it.

He was the spoilt little rich boy, twenty-seven years of age, clever, witty with cute boyish looks, and a sound academic record. Marko was exceptionally gifted and seemed to glide through life easily, falling on his feet and getting whatever he wanted.

On finishing college, he was at a loose end and noncommittal to a career, and with that his father talked him into enlisting in the Marines saying the discipline would serve him well. For Marko, the idea of action excited him, and after three years on American soil, he took a stint when given the opportunity to fight the Taliban in Afghanistan, which lasted nearly two and a half years. With the war still going on and no real finish in sight to the constant combat, he arrived home to look to do something else. He began to hang out with his friends who were gangsters in LA, and got back in the scene with Leroy Brown, head of the Crips, as they had been long-standing friends, often partying together along with all Leroy’s associates.

Richard could see Marko was going nowhere fast and encouraged him to start driving on the circuit with the American NASCAR Association. Marko appeared keen and driving on the circuit seemed to appease his appetite for adrenalin sports.

With Richards’s contacts and no limit to the funding, racing NASCARS became his passion, and he quickly excelled on the circuit working his way up the rungs.

Still hanging out with the street gangs and Leroy’s gangsters down in LA, he had a colourful history of stealing cars, dealing cocaine, with substantial participation in illegal ghetto gambling rackets. Marko was Richard’s worst nightmare, while he continually tried to keep him on the straight and narrow and settle him into a long-term career. Marko loved living this lifestyle on the edge and partying with all the A-List, alongside Leroy and all his gangsters. He worked on the side for Leroy, stealing luxury cars and street-racing in conjunction with his best friend Alex Martinez from Colombia. Marko was well connected to the Mafia by association through his father, and he recently purchased a luxury six-figure apartment, in Beverley Hills.

His father, Richard, was the head honcho of the LAPD, and Marko still made no bones about flaunting the law recklessly. Regardless of his wild escapades, both his parents continued to support him in his racing endeavours, turning mostly a blind eye to his reckless daily activities.

Relatively new to the race track, he had only been racing NASCARS full-time for the past three years, not discounting his wild street-racing escapades that had been going on and off since his young teens. He had a distinctive no-fear attitude and the utmost determination to win. This season Marko had earned himself a serious reputation amongst the best drivers in the State.

Racing on the circuit was a very expensive business; his dad continued to fund all his expenses, with nothing spared to kit his racing car out with the best of the best. Anything he wanted, he got it, no questions asked. Marko had excelled again this season and had picked up some major prize money from the prize pool over the last three races. Today was an exceptionally big prize pool, at 1.5 million dollars for the winner with his accredited points.

Marko placed himself behind the wheel with the engines warming and waited for the race to begin. He had raced this circuit over and over hundreds of times, and he knew he had the smarts to win this race. Going through his head, he knew the other contenders would be doing their utmost to knock him off, and James Fernando, twenty-eight, his senior was certainly the one to watch out for. Fernando came very close to whipping him in the last race meet, with only split seconds between them right to the finish line.

Enjoying the hype just before the race began, he looked out at the huge crowd packed in tight to the fence rails. This was a big ticket for him today. If he could pull this off, it would give him enough points to get into the Elite NASCAR Driving Arena. The race was always dependant on the engine’s performance, and touch wood, with no breakdowns, this would give him the celebrity status he had been aiming for. He was fully pumped and ready to take it on.

Almost in slow motion the cars edged forward and drove the warm- up lap on the circuit. He could see his crew, sponsors, and his mum and dad waving madly alongside Frankie and Maria, and then he placed the pedal to metal and sped into the race.

The race was one hundred and nineteen laps in all, and they moved quickly into the race as Marko sat back two cars comfortably from the lead. As they approached lap seven, three cars spun and piled up into the rails creating mayhem for the other drivers coming up the rear.

One of the vehicles had dropped an oil slick on the track from a busted hose, and the cars hit the slick at high speed, spinning them out of control. Marko managed to sail through unscathed just avoiding the rear of one of his opponents. The drivers were slowed with the pace car while the slick was quickly cleaned up and the damaged vehicles moved from the track.

Back into the race, and the laps ticked over with Marko almost in a trance as they came to the last lap of the race. Marko and Fernando were leading side by side.

Fernando had also escaped any breakdowns and was giving it his all to win this one today. Marko knew there was only the last corner before the final straight that he could lock out Fernando to keep his lead. It was definitely all in the timing. They edged neck and neck along the straight, and the clock wound out to incredible speed as they approached the final corner with Marko and Fernando facing each other side by side. Marko on the inside, they briefly glanced across at each other, the adrenalin rushing through their veins, (heavy metal Metallica pumping in Marko’s helmet) each with the anticipation of being the winner of this all important duel.

Marko drove hard and fast, with speed as his God and waited till the last minute to break hard before the final corner on the inside lane and kept Fernando wide, forcing him to pull in behind him. Marko moved through and kept the lead in the final straight, as he wound out the clock and flew to the finish line under the checker flag. Another win and the smile escalated across his face as he crossed the line with Fernando hot on his tail. ‘Yes, yes, yes, I’ve got it,’ he said confidently to himself, ‘Boy, I’m gonna celebrate on this one tonight!’

All across the track, the cameras flashed as he did his victory lap and pulled the car into the pit. The pit crew were ecstatic at Marko’s win jumping up and down and congratulating him. Marko’s mom and dad were in the pit together with their close family friends Frankie and Maria Napatano.

Richard hugged him all over along with Frankie. ‘You’re dynamite, you killed them out there. They could not even get close to you,’ said Richard. ‘He’s all over it, absolute champion,’ said Frankie. ‘This kid is gonna go all the way.’ They could hardly contain their excitement as they congratulated him on this major win. With this race under his belt, he had now moved up to number one place in points and outright wins and that put him in the box seat for the next season. The sponsors were going to be all over him.

He was surrounded by cameras and bikini-clad models as he stood with his parents, friends, and pit crew, and they all mobbed him giving congratulations on his fantastic win. Richard was beaming. He was so proud. ‘Wow, Marko, you did great today, kid. You make me so very proud of you.’ Marko was grinning broadly from ear to ear and was madly hugging his parents. ‘Thanks, Dad.’ Frankie laughed. ‘Hey look at him, and he’s a fucken natural.’

Richie and Katherine Bennett were glowing with pride alongside Frankie and Maria Napatano hardly containing their excitement over Marko’s win. His parents were very proud of their son as he took his position on the podium as number one for the season beside his second and third racing companions. Finally, he had come of age and had followed through with his career, and now, he was on top.

Marko looked down and smiled with elation holding the trophy high in the air. He shook the Champagne magnum and shot it out into the crowd. This was a great win today, he thought to himself.

CHAPTER TWO

The Ritz Carlton Hotel

T he bright orange moon had just risen at thirty minutes past eight, and Marko casually walked unnoticed into the parking lot at the Ritz Carlton Hotel in LA. Nobody saw him as he took out the camera directly covering the entry to the hotel. He then quietly slipped up behind the young valet attendant standing idle on the hotel steps and quickly knocked him out by head, locking the boy in a sleeper hold. The valet fell limp into his arms. Marko pulled him into the thick hedges on the side of the gardens to the entry at the hotel. The attendant lay motionless on the manicured lawn.

Quickly, Marko slipped into the valet’s clothes unnoticed and moved to where the attendant was standing and placed himself on the front marble steps at the Ritz Carlton Hotel. A few minutes later, a car pulled into the entry way and parked alongside the steps. A well-dressed short set, balding Italian man and his wife were seated in an electric blue Saleen.

‘Good evening, madam,’ Marko said pleasantly, as he assisted the attractive woman out of the luxury car. The man walked round the vehicle and arrogantly passed the keys to Marko, commenting at the same time, ‘Don’t you put a scratch on this, baby.’ ‘Certainly not, sir,’ replied Marko politely. The couple turned and continued to walk up the wide stairs leading into the Ritz Carlton Hotel. Marko climbed behind the wheel into the luxurious leather seats. ‘Now this is real class,’ he said to himself as he seated himself comfortably behind the wheel and drove the car out of the confines of the Ritz and headed towards the other side of town, smiling smugly to himself. He dialled up Leroy as he drove through the streets of LA.

‘Got your sweet baby blue, tic-tac-toe, this one’s for you.’ Leroy responded, ‘My man, I can’t wait to see this baby! Meet me at the edge of the Tee.’ Leroy hung up from Marko and then made a call to Alex. ‘How’s my black sinful apple? You poppen with some flavour?’ Alex responded excitedly. ‘Lady in red will be coming to bed,’ Leroy said quietly. ‘Baby blue and you are locken and stocken. Meet me at the tee.’ He then stepped into the gold Chevrolet and looked across to his American Negro driver Rubin clad in cap, white T, and gold chains round his neck. ‘Let’s roll.’ The hip hop music blasted loudly from the car.

Leroy arrived at the edge of the tunnel, and his driver parked in the open space alongside other fellow members of his gang. He was ‘the man,’ the biggest gangster in LA, both in the west and east side, very respected and the largest dealer of cocaine in the LA’s area and upstate. He held the major share of cocaine distribution in LA.

As a young boy on the streets, with his mother a full-blown heroin addict, he became street-smart at an early age and got heavily involved in running drugs and car racketeering. By the time he was eighteen years old, he had his own gangsters running drugs for his growing underground ghetto gangster network and was doing massive deals all over the state.

His ‘Crip Gangsters’ were mostly loyal and hard core with a tendency to shoot first and ask questions later, and he was untouchable, protected by his own and very connected to the mafia. Leroy took care of all the drug distribution for the Mafia throughout LA and upstate and had been doing business on a far-reaching scale with them for about eight years.

His gangsters and associates were stealing limited edition, high-priced cars and street-racing them for big prize money through the illegal betting syndicates. He stored the luxury cars in a massive holding bay at his premises in the wharf district, known only to his gangsters or direct associates, and then offloaded the stolen cars to buyers all over the world through his Mafia connections at the shipping line.

Leroy Brown loved fashion; he was having his own style of dress, very colourful, wearing custom-made expensive suits, hats, and accessories. He sported a pure gold handcrafted cane and drove luxury cars. The black ghettos brought their own style of music, and Leroy saw an opportunity to record the offbeat ghetto music that the other music companies overlooked and thought would never get recorded.

Leroy currently owned his own record company and recording studios with his personal record sales up in the millions plus per album and had achieved enormous status within the music industry. He was often spotted ringside at the boxing title fights across the States with his gangsters by his side, and his parties are well renowned by all the A-List.

Leroy was on first-name basis with Frankie Napatano, mafia Underboss in LA, being his direct supplier for the LA gangster network and was great mates with Marko Bennett and Alex Martinez. Alex supplied Frankie, the Mob’s Underboss with all the cocaine, and Leroy bought from Frankie.

Outside in the open night air, there was a large group of American Negroes with their neatly plaited hair and tricked out clothing standing alongside their pimped out rides blasting out loud beats of hip hop music. Marko pulled in near to the crowd in the electric blue Saleen. The group sidled over to check out the awesome car. The air was full of excitement.

Surrounding them under the night sky were sexy, Latino and American Negro women, dressed in tight-fitted clothing, all showing off their firm bodies, and wearing heavy jewelled drops. Their skin was glistening in the night lights as they danced provocatively to the music, moving their hips and swaying their long plaited hair to the rhythms. They stood alongside their colourfully dressed guys, adorned with gold and silver chains with caps turned up to the side or back. The gang was all hanging out waiting for the street race to begin. You could feel the excitement in the air as another car pulled in with Alex Martinez at the wheel. Alex sometimes referred to as ‘Magic Man’ had just lifted a cherry red Dodge Viper for Leroy and had brought it here to street race tonight.

Marko pulled the sexy Saleen up alongside Alex and rolled to a stop on the bitumen on the wide open strip between the two embankments. The night was clear with the moon now high above lighting the strip. Leroy walked over to Marko. ‘My man, that car is one beautiful ride. You have done real good tonight. I see you had a big win today.’

Marko responded casually, ‘That was just a warm up for tonight.’ ‘You sure got that right,’ said Leroy. ‘Let’s see if this baby has got the goods.’ A smile broke out across Marko’s face.

All over town, the