Warring Factions

"You will never guess who's outside that door." John Masters hooked a thumb back to the huge oak monstrosity he just entered. His expression allowed a bit of surprise.

"Then suppose you just tell me, John." Makim Vokolov was in no mood for guessing games. The muscular man sipped his whiskey, a dark scowl lacing his handsome face.

"Patrick McDui's daughter." John gave over the information with a sweep of his beefy hand.

Makim was taken aback slightly, his scowl increasing. "The stacked blonde?" he had seen the woman around the party circuit of late.

"McDui has two daughters, three sons." John corrected the misunderstanding, leaning his stout shoulder against a convenient wall for support, sticking his fists into the pockets of his expensive suit. "The sons, you know. But, the daughter outside the door? Takes after her old man, so know this, lad."

Makim felt a lecture coming on.

"It took a lot for her to come here, so whatever it is she has to say? It's important so...listen, is my advice."

"We're a little busy here, John, what with the latest shit to hit the fan." Makim was in no mood. "I don't really have the time or inclination to listen to a dame prattle on about what she thinks is an important issue, ya know?"

John straightened, his expression carefully placid. "I'll tell her you're in a meeting."

Max knew the tone well. "Alright, already." he sighed heavily, going to pour another drink. "Don't get on your fucking high horse. Send her in so I can get this over with and onto business that really matters."

He glanced over to a very disgruntled guy. "What's got into you lately? You going through menopause or something? You getting soft on me all of a sudden?"

John chose not to reply but his expression, again...spoke volumes.

"...You think this is important, don't you." Makim became more serious then. He could feel the frustration and disappointment rolling off the big man's shoulders. "...Alright, I'll show the respect. Send her in."

A few moments later, the large man did just that.

The woman stood five feet five, maybe...on a good day. She had her father's dark coloring and an even darker scowl. Large green eyes observed Makim now, clearly sizing him up.

She did not speak, merely stood, staring at him.

She met his eyes easily, the darkness in her face never altering.

"This is Mary McDui, Makim. Patrick McDui's daughter. She has something she wishes to impart." John eased the discomfort of the moment diplomatically.

The younger man nodded in what he assumed was a polite gesture, motioning. "Take a seat."

The woman glanced to the expensive chair. "No thank you." the Irish accent was thick. She bobbed her head in what supposedly was a 'polite' response although the dark scowl increased two-fold, in reality. "I'll come directly to the point as I'm assuming all the Bosses are trying to figure out this Mosconi debacle. I'll not be wastin your time."

Well, point for the Irish dame, Makim had to admit.

He took the time to really examine the female. She lacked the beauty of her sister but there was something to be said for the emerald eyes, dark hair which hung to her waist and slight figure.

She was dressed modestly for it was late Autumn and there was a nip to the air already here in New York City. She sported a long black coat, sensible boots, holding a pair of woolen mittens tightly clutched in her hands.

Her head was bare, tiny barrettes shimmering in the low light of the room, holding the sides back from her face. The coat was buttoned up snuggly fitting the small curvaceous figure to perfection.

She could have passed for a young schoolgirl except for the world-weary stare which seldom left Makim's face.

"I've just come from the hospital. I've spoken to Liam Nolan. He's in a bad way, for they just told him about his sons." those green eyes closed for a brief second while she got her emotions under control. "...His wife, Bridget is still unconscious. They don't know if she will awaken, Saint's preserve us...perhaps it would be for the best if she doesn't."

Both men allowed the girl a moment to compose herself.

Mary shook her emotional response determinedly.

"Mosconi is an idiot." John Masters voiced his opinion of the situation and the one who caused it.

"He's a rabid dog who should be put down and that is what you'll have to do to make this right with Liam Nolan." the melodious voice did not fit the harshness of the words spoken. "But tis only one of the things which must be done to stave off the juggernaut about to descend. I don't think I'm telling you anything you dinna know."

Makim exchanged enigmatical looks with his lieutenant, the light blue eyes holding his dark brown ones stonily.

"I know you, like m' father, dinna take anything a woman says to heart but I am the one who took the initiative to visit Nolan. Not you or m' father or any of the other Dons. Which...one of you, should have done."

She did not like having to remind such a thing.

Makim had to admit, if only to himself, her words were good, sound reasoning. He simply had not thought of the gesture.

"The man lost his six-year-old and the little brother as well." it was reminded, with a stern glare. "But, not one of you thought to ask the man of his feelings on the Mosconi matter?" she was getting angry. "Tis his feelings which will catapult this incident into the public's domain."

She cocked her head slightly, those eyes accusing and condemnatory.

"The Family needs the public's backing. Without it the business is doomed. If they demand justice for this atrocity, which is only right they should...the Feds will be brought in." she shook those long locks. "Then what?"

Again, Makim could see the wisdom of her statements. "You're telling me shit I already know, lady." he grumbled.

"My father willna listen to me. I have a suggestion on how to go forward on this matter. A sound one, I think." she took no offense.

"You do, do you." the man nodded curtly, motioning with the glass in hand. "You're smarter than I am then. Or any of the other Family members apparently. I wonder how we've managed all these years without your sterling guidance."

"I wonder as well." the woman replied evenly, holding his gaze steadily.

John Masters, mouth twitched for the audacity displayed.

Makim didn't miss the guy's reaction which gave him pause for thought. Not much impressed the man, after all. John had seen it all...done it twice. So how did this insignificant woman manage to amuse a man who just had no sense of humor what-so-ever.

John was usually beyond serious in any undertaking.

"I can see my time has been wasted here." Mary McDui did not enjoy the realization, her full lips setting irritably. Nor had she liked Makim's flippancy. "Perhaps Sol Beneduce will be more open-minded. Although one does not hold out much hope." she grated, turning to take her leave.

"Miss McDui, please." John instantly placed a gentle hand on her forearm but at the steely glare of disapproval, slowly removed the offending touch. "...I beg your pardon, Ma'am. I meant no disrespect. Neither did he." a judicial stare was turned Makim's way. "Did you, Boss."

Makim took a moment but he trusted John's intuition. "No." he stoically snapped. "This situation has us all on edge. I think your suggestion to go visit Nolan a good one, actually. I will go tomorrow..."

'Tomorrow will be too late." she waved the words aside with a curt movement of her hand. "Tomorrow, his wife might be lucid...tomorrow..." her face softened. "Liam will have to tell her the babies are gone. Nothing will take that pain away unless he can show her a token of our esteem."

"A token?" Makim was lost. "What the hell are you..."

"Like the ring finger of William Pratt, the cold, unfeeling bastard who pulled the trigger of the gun that killed her sons." the woman wasn't shy about stating her meaning, not in the least.

Makim was somewhat shocked by the venom in her tone. "...You mean the ring that the fucker puts so much store in?" Everyone knew the asshole loved to wave his jewelry under everybody's nose. Especially, the diamond ring he boasted on his index finger.

"The ring, aye...and the finger, to prove the debt is paid. A life for a life...not that such a pitiable substitute will pay the ransom Liam will ask. Two little boys for a piece of garbage. Pratt killed for no other reason than he could."

"More than understandable." John lifted a cold stare. "I can get right on that problem, Boss. If you think it's the way we should go."

Makim snapped out of his haze, for things were moving at breakneck speed around here suddenly. "What the hell is wrong with you two? Killing Mosconi's Lieutenant will bring down a turf war. That's all we need on top of everything else we're dealing with here."

"Not only his Lieutenant but the man himself, must pay the price for his own stupidity. Mosconi broke the rules." Mary reminded. "He brought all this down on the Family's head." the emerald eyes flashed the fire of battle.

"You want me to hit Mosconi." Makim shook his head, smiling wearily.

"I thought you had the balls." the woman looked the man up and down consideringly, nothing more. "Liam Nolan's brain is in a fog right now but when it clears, he will rain down vengeance the likes you have never seen. He is Irish, through and through." she shook a noble head, lifting her chin slightly. "He believes in an eye for an eye. Nothing else will satisfy, nor will he care how he goes about extracting that vengeance."

"I don't fear a factory worker, Lady."

"Liam is a good, decent, hard-working man. All he ever wanted in life was Bridget O'Hanrahan and to be left to his peace. He is a private man with private ways. William Pratt chose the wrong man to piss off."

She straightened, having had her say. "I've told you what will happen. Now, tis on your head...and the other Dons."

"If he is out for revenge, nothing we can do will stop that need, is what you're saying."

"His actions will stem from what he perceives others do...or do not do." Mary explained patiently. "He knows Bridget must be his main concern at present but trust me, Mr. Vokolov. The Family does not want this man as their enemy."

"We handle enemies pretty efficiently, Miss McDui." Makim was not particularly bothered by the threat.

"This one... has nothing further to lose." she shrugged slender shoulders. "He dinna start this but know, please. Before it is ended, you will know the name of Liam Nolan, aye...and remember it well."

Mary nodded once. "I'll be going now, but I'm thanking you for your time and for at least...listening to m' words."

She turned.

"Can we offer you something warm, Miss McDui. It's a cold day out and you've come far."

The girl's face softened, a gentle smile lighting the usually dour little face, transforming it into a pixyish charm. "I'm standing in the enemy camp, Sir." she almost teased. "I'll no be takin any favors, small or otherwise but again." she inclined her head almost regally, Makim thought. "Thank you for the kindness exhibited."

The smile faded naturally as she sought out Makim Vokolov. "Tis up to you, Sir...what you do or do not do. I can only hope you are as intelligent as it is said."

She closed the door behind her with an indistinguishable click.

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