Return of the Don

By Malcolm A Benson

Ex-mafia boss, Charlie Reid, returns to his old stomping ground to be with his dying father. Jack Ackerman, the new man in charge and Charlie’s childhood best friend, isn’t happy and flexes his mafia muscle to obliterate any foul play. However, the two powerful gangland kingpins rule their worlds, hijacking each other's orbit, which now, is on a collision course. Charlie wants to spend time with family, but Jack wants Charlie gone and out of the game for good. One night, a freak accident devastates one of the families, but suspicions are adrenaline-fuelled, and Jack orders his top button to take care of things. No turning back for Charlie’s family or the mafia family he used to own as revenge stains the town bloody. Will Operation Red Hawk, led by DC Mills get to the bottom of this or will the mafia family take care of business themselves? It’s a power struggle race to the finish line and only one mafia boss will remain standing.
Writer, director, producer and actor Malcolm A. Benson invites you into the compelling and hard-hitting world of Return of the Don.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jun 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781665586283

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© 2021 Malcolm A Benson. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 05/26/2021

ISBN: 978-1-6655-8629-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-8630-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-8628-3 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1 In the Past

Chapter 2 Change Is as Good as a Holiday

Chapter 3 Going, Going, Gone

Chapter 4 Ackerman’s Empire – One Year On

Chapter 5 Return of the Don

Chapter 6 Friends and Enemies: Underworld

Chapter 7 Friends and Enemies: The Thin Blue Line

Chapter 8 Flexing the Friendship Mafia Muscle

Chapter 9 Undercover Pardons

Chapter 10 True Colours

Chapter 11 Cause and Effect

Chapter 12 Mood Changes

Chapter 13 Parting Shot

Chapter 14 Lock, Stock, and One Dead

Chapter 15 Interview HQ

Chapter 16 Gang Bang

Chapter 17 Meet Your Maker

Chapter 18 No Limits

Chapter 19 Jack’s Dark Cloud

Chapter 20 Showdown at Uncle Sam’s

CHAPTER 1

IN THE PAST

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An intense scream rings out loud through the still night. A neighbourhood Rottweiler barks in reply and then howls until her sleepy owner comes outside and unties her. She can hardly sit still long enough to be released from her kennel post just outside the back door.

‘You silly, it’s only a stray cat or something,’ the owner says to the dog. ‘Go on, then. See what’s so important to get me out on this cold night.’

The owner waves his dog away from him, free to explore why she alerted him in the first place. The dog has no intention to investigate the scream and makes a run for the back door, straight inside to the warmth and safety of the owner’s kitchen.

‘Unbelievable,’ says the owner, shaking his head. ‘Some guard dog you are. Next time I’ll buy meself a poodle.’

Not far away, in an abandoned railway yard, a young man lies hog-tied and naked on the ground. Three darkly clad people kick every bone in his broken body. One dark figure stops to gag the young man with black tape before they resume kicking.

There are two minutes left of fight in the young man before his body lies as limp and motionless as hot-cut grass. A torch beam scans the young man, highlighting the blood and deep gashes. Bruises and swellings map out where the kicks have been driven hard into his frame.

‘OK, you can stop now,’ orders Charlie Reid. ‘I think he’s done.’

‘He’s done all right,’ David Reid replies breathlessly. ‘Me too.’

Bill Maden adds, ‘David! Bro, you’re an old man. I’m surprised you’re still standing—’

Charlie quickly cuts off Bill before he can say anything more.

‘That may be true, but I’d bet on David to win any day of the week.’

Bill chuckles as David places his hands on his hips to help him breathe better. Charlie looks at the bloody dead mess lying before their feet.

Bill does not stop there; he has a bit more on his mind.

‘Charlie, he’s your dad, after all, and I can understand the favouritism—’

Charlie plugs Bill a left-handed punch from an extended arm and clocks him on the ear. Bill grabs his ear tightly with both hands and tries to hold back his screams of pain.

‘Why’d you go and do that? It’s the truth, isn’t it?’

Charlie and David exchange knowing glances for only a moment.

‘Okay, your turn, Dad.’

With that, David kicks Bill in the crown jewels, and Bill does not hold back as he lets loose one almighty scream, loud and hard enough to ring the closest church bell.

It is the early hours of the morning at the clubhouse. The main room is sparsely lit by lamps with emerald-green shades dotted here and there on side tables beside elegant leather club chairs. In silence, Charlie and David sit opposite each other, holding crystal-cut tumblers with amber fluid. Charlie’s deep brown eyes scan his dad’s face, looking for a sign – any sign – that things need to change.

‘Um, you okay, Dad?’ asks Charlie.

‘Yeah, of course. Why?’

‘Never seen you, you know …’

Charlie hesitates to continue his explanation as his dad stares at him expectantly with the same eyes as himself. Charlie scratches the back of his neck and momentarily looks into his glass, swirling the amber fluid and waiting for less direct words to come to mind.

‘Charlie, tell me straight. You reading that liquid expecting a revelation or something?’

‘Sorry, Dad, I’m not sure how to say it.’ Charlie hesitates for a moment, then continues. ‘It’s the first time I’ve seen you so smashed after a clean-up.’

‘Are you saying Bill’s right? He’s just our bodyguard and occasional muscle. You gonna listen to him?’ David retorts, shifting in his chair to lean forward and place elbows on knees. David is ready for Charlie’s answer and tries to remain calm. He digs his elbows deep into his knees to fight off the urge to pick up his son by the neck and throttle the answer out of him.

‘Better give me that answer quick smart,’ David threatens.

Charlie sculls the rest of his drink and puts the empty glass on the small table beside the club chair. David is winding up, and Charlie tries to think about how he can soften the blow. He knows what his dad is capable of – he used to be the mob boss before Charlie took over. David is as ruthless, mean, and spontaneous as any other stereotypical mafia father is portrayed. Charlie finger traces the rim of his tumbler, once around, then twice. Abruptly, he picks up the glass and throws it, smashing it on the wall directly behind David.

David does not flinch.

‘Better?’

‘Yes,’ Charlie replies as he stands to his full height of six foot two inches. David also stands, shy one inch of Charlie.

‘No! I mean, no.’

David steps into Charlie and embraces him for a few moments. Charlie, initially taken aback, reciprocates the hug, waiting for the knife in the back for questioning his clean-up fitness.

David whispers into Charlie’s ear, ‘You’re the boss, remember? What you say goes.’

Charlie gently shoves himself out of the embrace.

‘You got to step down as number one. I’ve decided to give Jack Ackerman a go,’ Charlie announces, shitting himself.

‘I see.’

Charlie slowly walks around the room, arms spread wide to indicate everything seen and unseen. Then he shoves his hands deep inside his trouser pockets and looks directly at David. His facial expression takes on a more serious look – his business face.

‘Before the others get here, let me say that the Reid family clan needs to run at full capacity and as efficiently as always. We deal with people who need a lot of persuasion to get our jobs done, right? And if not – boom, bang, or bash. Can’t risk them seeing a weak spot. We need you to give up muscle and take on eyes and ears. Got it?’

David half collapses into his club chair as if the wind has been knocked out him. His bright white teeth are no longer visible inside his smile. His lips form a grimace, and the whites of his eyes are almost glowing in this dimly lit room. He puts his glass down on the floor under the chair.

‘Didn’t see that coming. I thought you wanted me to go to the doctor or something. I know I was panting hard and fast dealing out that young man’s lesson.’

Charlie walks towards the club chair area and claps his dad’s shoulder before taking a seat next to him.

‘When you were mafia boss of this clan, wouldn’t have you done the same thing? We are in this for the long haul. You made me boss because you needed to take a step back. You trusted me to make the hard decisions. If your balls get turned into earrings, I better get my ears pierced. I’m responsible for every member. But you, more than anyone, need to be strategically placed. We need you. No one teaches what your experience and know-how contribute to our success.’

David rubs his face with both hands like he is washing it to wake up to reality.

‘Dad, you okay?’

‘Got to be. Lucky your mum not around to hear you say that. Putting your dad down like an old warthog.’

‘Hang on.’

David stands and makes a mad rush for the door. ‘I’m outta here. Not listening. I’m over it.’

Charlie jumps to a standing position but does not follow. His feet seem like they are fixed to the floor by some imaginary fear glue.

‘And one more thing,’ David adds, spinning around with a finger pointing at Charlie. ‘Jack Ackerman may be your best friend, but he’s not ready for number one. He has got to shake off his personal itinerary before he’s committed to you one hundred per cent.’

With that, David opens the door, walks out, and slams it shut. Charlie stares, dumbfounded by the closed door.

‘Shit.’ Charlie paces the room and scratches the back of his neck. ‘Shit. Shit. Shit.’

In a build-up of disappointment and rage, Charlie begins to kick and smash up the room, taking careful aim at the lamps as he goes. Chairs topple, glass smashes, and the bottles lined up on the bar get swiped off in one fell swoop. He rushes towards the curtains and rips them off the windows, letting the first light of the day stream in and expose the mess he has made. Dust bunnies dance in the sun’s rays, unaware of the reason why they are exposed. Charlie raises a hand to his eyes to shield the brightness and hide his face from the daylight.

The door opens. A tall, well-built man with blue eyes and greying hair stands there, not knowing whether he is interrupting something, or he has timed it well. Charlie does not move from his statue position, like the light from the windows has pinned him in his current stance.

‘Hey, mate. You got something on your mind?’ asks Jack Ackerman, looking around the room. He unbuttons his jacket and drives his hands into his trouser pockets, revealing his well-tailored vest and shiny piece sitting in its holster.

Charlie turns to see Jack, and he lowers his arm from shielding his eyes to reach down towards a bottle of whiskey that did not transform into sharp puzzle pieces. Charlie holds up the bottle to Jack. Jack nods and walks to stand beside Charlie.

Charlie passes the bottle to Jack. Jack opens the bottle, reading the label, and then smells the liquid by putting his nose to the top of the bottle.

Jack nods towards Charlie. ‘Saved the best by the looks of it.’

Charlie takes a swig and passes it to Jack.

‘Me! Okay. Not going to refuse this old lady.’

Jack enjoys a mouthful and passes the bottle back to Charlie.

‘Congratulations, my dear friend.’

‘What for?’

‘You have officially been sworn in as number one.’

Jack takes stock of the situation by pausing to let Charlie’s words sink in.

‘You mean to tell me you kicked your old man down the ladder and put me in his place?’ Jack says half amused, half surprised.

‘Looks like it.’

Jack pivots this way and that to gauge how much damage the room and furniture have suffered.

‘Yeah, looks like it for sure. David didn’t take it too well.’

Charlie shrugs, committing nothing. He grabs the quality whiskey bottle between both hands and pitches it straight through the window.

The Ackerman house is a modern two storey, with lots of floor-to-ceiling windows, white furniture, and stainless steel appliances. Later that day, Jack smokes a cigar from the luxury of his plush leather sofa, reading the newspaper. His wife looks bored and pretty sitting beside him. She pouts her red-painted lips, flutters her heavy blue-shadowed eyelids, and admires her fire engine–red manicured fingernails.

‘Jack, how about dinner at Carlo’s tonight? I’m starving,’ Dana whines with a sexy, husky voice.

‘Love, can’t you see I’m busy? I’m number one now. Got to stay ready and waiting for Charlie. He’s me mate and me boss.’

Dana rolls her eyes and shifts her weight to the other hip as she crosses her legs, showing off sparkly hot pink stilettos.

‘Oh, love, you don’t have to turn your back to me. I can’t see your pretty face,’ Jack says doing a double take on the hot pink stilettos. ‘Obviously, you have too much time to shop.’

Dana takes offence. ‘That’s not fair. I don’t own a pair of—’

Jack interrupts, ‘Okay. Okay. I’m starting to get it. You require a pair of shoes in every colour for every season.’

Dana is even more attractive when she smiles in reply, ‘Oh, darling, that’s why I love you so much. No one knows me better than you.’

Jack folds up his newspaper and carefully puts it next to him for reading later. He grabs Dana by the shoulders and pulls her in tight for a passionate kiss. Dana giggles a little, but she thoroughly enjoys the kiss. She gets in nice and snug up against Jack.

‘Let’s go upstairs,’ Jack manages between tongue and lips.

Without a moment to waste, Dana is up and standing, rushing towards the stairs.

‘Honey, it’s not a race. Wait for me,’ Jack says, finding his arms wrapped around thin air.

‘What do you mean? It will take me two hours to get ready, and that leaves just enough time to drive to Carlo’s.’

‘What? No, I meant—’

Jack watches Dana pull off her pumps and carry them as she runs up the stairs.

‘Safe to say sex isn’t on the menu,’ Jack says quietly to himself.

He adjusts himself in the nether region to get a comfortable arrangement so he can continue reading the newspaper.

‘Now where was I?’ Jack says as he unfolds the newspaper and locates the right page.

David’s house is a modest two-storey, old-style stone brick, far too large for one. He could not bear to get rid of it when his wife, Lilly, died four years earlier. Now he holds her photo, in its gold frame, close to his chest.

‘Can you feel my heart beating, Lil? Can you hear its beat?’ David says with sadness in his voice.

He puts the framed photo back on the black-and-white marble mantelpiece and turns to stare out the window. David walks over to it to pull the thin white curtain to the side. The view is undisturbed green hills with large trees and large flat areas of manicured gardens and orchards.

‘I miss you. Now our son has different ideas than what we taught him, Lil. He has got that Ackerman Jack as his sidekick – his number-one hitman. So I’m not going to be able to protect our boy like before, but I promise you no one is gonna put the Reid family clan’s name through the mud.’

At Charlie Reid’s house, it’s dinner time. The large rectangular table brims with hot and delicious home-cooked food. Darcy, Charlie’s wife, a vibrant lady with mid-length black hair in tiny tight curls, walks from the kitchen into the dining room with a platter full of baked potatoes. She places the platter down strategically at one end of the table. She dances and sings her way back to the kitchen.

Edward and Lucy are the household teenagers and are only two years apart. Edward is the eldest at fifteen years, and he is tall and handsome like his dad, but with his mum’s angelic smile. His front teeth have that small gap, signifying to the world that his mouth is his money box, and money will always find him. Lucy has long black hair, with her dad’s almond-shaped brown eyes and a no-nonsense attitude. She is far too serious-minded for a thirteen-year-old girl. Not much makes her smile. But when she does, the heat from Lucy’s beauty could melt metal.

Edward and Lucy are upstairs in their bedrooms. Just like the rest of the house, it’s a mix of old and new styles, cluttered with lots of photos, paintings, ornaments, and rugs under one roof. Darcy, not having the heart to sell her mum’s things when she passed away, decided to keep it – not in storage, but within the family home. Charlie, on the other hand, prefers simplistic lines and minimalistic furnishings in the shades of black and white.

Edward suddenly stops playing his guitar, his nose twitching. He jumps off his bed, runs to the door, and opens it, inhaling deeply.

‘Delicious. Must eat now.’

Edward smiles and rushes to Lucy’s door. He knocks and enters before Lucy can reply.

‘Luce, you got to come out here and smell this.’

Lucy looks fit to burst being interrupted during her science homework, but aromatic waves from her mum’s cooking infiltrate her room and nostrils, and she changes gear before her mouth reels off a set of expletives to beat Edward into retreat.

‘Eddie, you’re lucky that smells good. You know how much I hate being interrupted,’ she says, pushing past him. ‘Wonder what the special occasion is.’

‘Beats me.’

Brother and sister push against each other as they race down the stairs.

Constable Florence O’Connell drives towards the London police station. Her shift was meant to have finished over an hour ago, but she is in good spirits despite her last call-out being across town. Now able to finally finish work for the day, she sings along with the song on the radio, wondering what she is going to wear tonight. Constable O’Connell has a date with the hot new armed unit officer, Les Benning. She hopes it goes exceptionally well because she has the next two days off and secretly desires to spend it with dreamboat Benning.

‘I’m so excited. And I just can’t hide it,’ O’Connell sings as she swings to the right into a narrow street but has to stop abruptly as an elderly woman slowly walks across the road with a walking stick made from a broken crutch. Constable O’Connell narrowly misses the pedestrian. Being the kind of woman she is, she decides to assist.

‘One good deed deserves another,’ she recites under her breath.

Constable O’Connell pulls over and gets out of the marked police vehicle to help the woman cross the road safely before someone swipes her coming around the blind corner.

‘I couldn’t live with myself if she gets flattened,’ she says as she approaches the elderly lady.

‘Ma’am, let me help you—’

‘Get her!’ a youth screams out.

‘What?’ says the confused police officer, spinning around to scan the direction of the scream.

Constable O’Connell is targeted by a gang of four youths. They surround and trap her in a hostile situation. The elderly lady tries to bash the police officer with the broken crutch.

‘Hey, what’s all this?’ Constable O’Connell orders as she dodges the makeshift weapon, holding out her arms to infer distance and safety. ‘Stop!’

‘It’s what we call a modern bashing, you idiot,’ says the elderly lady as she rips off her wig to reveal she is just as young and male as the other gang members.

Constable O’Connell tries to protect her head from the bashing, and she is forced to the ground. She attempts to grab her radio to call it in, but she’s unsuccessful.

‘And if I see you reach for your radio, it’s lights out. Get my drift? Five to one – not the best odds,’ warns the gang leader.

The leader waves for the gang to stop and wait for further instructions. They swing their weapons of large planks of wood and baseball bats in anticipation for round two. The five youths surround Constable O’Connell, and it is left up to the gang leader, the elderly woman impersonator, to initiate the taunt and torture.

‘You don’t remember me, do you, Florence?’ says the gang leader, wielding the broken crutch transformed into a dangerous weapon.

Constable O’Connell slowly stands and limps as she circles the teenager, trying to recall his face and voice.

‘Can’t say that I do,’ she replies in a husky voice laced with pain.

As the leader turns to gain praise from his gang, the police officer quickly grabs her radio and calls for assistance. The gang notice just as she is replacing her radio and lunge forward in full force, swinging their home-made weapons. Constable O’Connell gets hit to the ground hard and forms a tight ball to protect herself until help arrives.

A sleek black sports car comes speeding around the corner and swerves elaborately to miss the group.

‘What the hell?’ shouts Charlie Reid as he jumps out of the driver’s side, noticing instantly what is going on. ‘Stupid babies.’

Constable O’Connell and the youths are taken by surprise. The gang leader looks furious and nods towards the others.

‘Watch the copper. I’ll handle this firecracker,’ the leader says confidently.

Charlie storms over towards the so-called leader, with business written all over his face. As the youth puffs out his chest and swings his weapon as a threat and warning, Charlie pulls out his handgun and shoots dead one of the gang members closest to Constable O’Connell.

‘Who is this guy?’ the police officer whispers.

While everyone is focusing on the events unfolding, DC Chris Chapman arrives in an unmarked car, having heard the call for assistance on his way back to the police station. He parks, slowly gets out of the car, and scans the area quickly. It is a bad situation, and the tension is thick. Things can get worse without warning.

Constable O’Connell is DC Chapman’s niece, and he stands stoic nearby, hoping assistance arrives soon. He tries not to make matters worse and keeps a watchful eye on how one man is trying to deal with the youth gang, albeit unethical, but at the same time protect the young constable.

‘Why you son of a bitch,’ retorts the leader to Charlie.

‘What do you know? There’s more where that came from,’ Charlie threatens.

‘Rack off and mind your own business. Who do you think you are the bleedin’ Equalizer?’

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