Remo Lombardi a financial officer and Jacob's best friend uncovers a mystery. Unknown money has been filtering through the organization. The kind of money the feds may be looking for. He alerts Jacob to this issue fearing that they may have a scandal on their hands. But is Jacob in on it too?
written by Jermaine Williams
10 zeros lie in a row. From whence it came I did't want to know.
Toiling over algorithms and failed calculations. Heart racing, mind filled with peril and the aligned zeros implications.
The books were cooked like fresh kill. Not by amateurs but someone with real skill.
And still, a single trail was laid. One that I could see who stole treasures and who got paid.
The truth cut crisp like blades. On surfaces I drank courage, but inside I was afraid.
This kind of money gets people killed. The kind of money concealed by government brokers.
I ask myself is it worth becoming the whistle blower. Is it worth my career being over.
Is the news worth my life. What I built with my wife. My pension my suite and my villa. My time at the top of the pillar.
Hell no! But that won't stop the FBI investigation. When they find this money either someone will be alive in jail or someone is going to die. No two ways about it.
My worries shrouded by darker angels. Who whisper temptations in my ears examining dilemmas from different angels.
Like strangers they spew bad advice.
They say what about this, what about that, think of your wife.
I'll do more than just that. I got an Ace in the makeup.
His name is Jacob. This is something he can run with.
I'll let him do the shakeup.
Take up the reins and expose secrets held.
I'll sit back as it unravels and watch the backlash swell.
Watch the light wash demons. So people see its the mob.
Yeah I'll sit back and play good cop and claim I'm just doing my job.
I rushed to his door. At half past four. Laying in wake.
Gripping the instruments of war.
I broke it all down to him. The money, miscalculations, the funneling of funds and corruption.
I warned him of the FBI investigation into this bank and all of its monetary functions.
He said nothing. His eyes didn't flinch.
Head never shook, never a confused look. Not even an inch.
The error of my ways revealed them self to me.
Like tortured souls attempting to complete a life unfinished.
My aplomb diminished. With each sentence.
Then suddenly my words halted. Reality struck me down.
Was he the enemy or my friend.
Or the friend of the enemy. Forsaken my betrayal to the end.
He leaned in, his gaze serene.
He said, "Let me take this off hands so hot. You must think of Irene."
I thanked him, my prayers to God that to him he do bless.
Heavy weight floated from my chest. Yes! I can rest easy.
I knew Jacob would follow it to the end.
We've known each other for so many years after all he was my best friend.
As I followed the zeros. Two words shook my emotions. They read, "Cosa Nostra". Sicilian in origin.
I knew what it meant. Men made from money.
Dwell in the shadows. Masters of puppets in the real world. Sounds funny but very true.
I knew I couldn't take that risk. I knew what I had to do.
On K Street we fear bears and trumpet the bulls.
But these made men were no bulls they were wolves.
Wrapped in fine garbs, transported in the finest cars. They own judges who shield them from metal bars.
Made men I know you've heard of them too.
I put Jacob on the path. "Oh my God what did I do?"
They'll kill him.
Knowing is about as dangerous as the unknown. Two wrongs don't make a right. All it took was a call and a location. For Gloria and Jacob to encounter one another again. Even though there is something nagging Jacob.
What Danger Lurks?
written by Jermaine Williams
Playing with fire she was sterling.
I never felt so good. Thoughts like debris eaten by tornadoes, swirling.
Eyes squander the room.
Trying to make sense of it all.
After that day I saw her again at the restaurant. Later on I got a call.
"It's Gloria", she said.
I know I replied. Your married to Mr. Venton.
The small things never get mentioned.
I'm sorry she said. Had I known.
I would have introduced you two right after our carnal sins were sown.
Both Covers blown. We both tempt demons.
My disposition is a reaction not a reason.
Even if I could take it back. The fact is I wouldn't. I'd do it again even though I know I shouldn't.
That's when she said room 428 and don't be late. Time will be limited.
My time was prompt.
I was intrigued, inspired and riveted.
I wore emotionless masks but inside
I was raging with flames. What a strange thing especially for someone who's only familiarity with her was her name.
I entered the room. The smell of steam and lavender filled the air.
A bouquet of flowers. Lavender, its scent intoxicated me, drawing me ever near.
I enter the door and behind the glass. Stood a goddess of flesh perfect sublime.
She reached out in my direction.
Using my neck tie as a leash.
Soaked clothes stripped down my body.
She sacrificed her chastity to a beast.
The steam dissipated the sweat dried the skin.
We invited stillness while lying in the bed.
With all that had happened.
Things Remo was saying began to dance around my head.
Mr. Venton gets a surprise visit after learning some very disturbing news. The FBI is snooping around his bank looking for evidence. But evidence of what? Could they be looking for past crimes?
Truth Be Told
written by Jermaine Williams
I hate audits
Mandatory Witch Hunt
Strangers looking in my shadows
If you donʼt mind my being blunt
There wasnʼt shit we could do to stop it
Once the ball got rolling
Someone from my company
Never confronted me
Researched the math
That put us all on the path
Of my wrath
I will personally thank our whistle blower
But first I must get this meeting over A call from the secretary Yes I know send him in
Detective Balor Mr. Venton Im with...
Yes I know the FBI
What do I owe the pleasure of this visit
Iʼll come right out with it
You are aware of the impending crisis
I take a deep breath and roll the eyes under my eyelids
Yes I have been made aware
But I donʼt scare so easily This bank has survived 2 world wars and the great depression
Great then you wont mind us taking a look at your books
Of course with great discretion
I will assign my chief financial officer to assist you
I take it this investigation
Will see this bank is a pillar of health
I no doubt agree given the enormity of your wealth
But I have one more favor to ask of you
Detective what else Could there be
We need to review
Safe deposit boxes 205 to 333
Our safe deposit boxes are preying eyes
Our clients are precious
If you donʼt mind me asking why
The why is simple
These boxes are the subject of an ongoing investigation
That is of course confidential
Then I see no reason to cooperate with such a request abhorrent
Are you sure you wont reconsider Because I could return with a warrant?
Bring your warrant and Iʼll have your badge
For some reason detective Balor just laughed
No need for that for now they they are safe
We can move forward Iʼll concede them
Its funny that you would be so protective
Unless youʼve seen whats in them
Time for to leave. Mrs. Perry show Mr. Balor ou....
No need I can show myself out
Have a good day Mr. Venton
Oh! Just in case I forgot to mention
We will be monitoring all transactions In and out of the building
My face concealing my panic
Iʼll put everything in transit
So he canʼt stop it
Did I mention before I hate audits
The words Remo said dance in Jacob's head. He has to do the research to find out if there is any exposure for him or Victor. Exposing them both could ruin everything they created together. Then again is there something more to this mystery?
A Spider's Web
written by Jermaine Williams
Remembrance impending doom rattled like hurricane warning signs
Fleeing the info drowned me in tsunami tides
They opened my eyes
Resonance were his words
More than mere nouns and action verbs.
The Feds were involved. Secrets they will seek in the vault. Like any great secret once the truth is out. The lies never stop.
Etched in the psychie are two words "Cosa Nostra" Cosa Nostra International was are largest client.
What could be so urgent? Why tempt the eyes of giants?
Then it struck me something Victor had uttered.
Questions of bank. Something was mumbled under baited breath barely muttered.
A family secret? Is it safe did we keep it?
Last week we sought out the vault to acquire his sin.
Inscribed on a single sheet a crest of his kin.
The Italian Emeritae, a seal.
A secret so deep it was worth it to kill.
And did he, when on rages war.
Revealed tales of pain, suffering but none with explanation for.
He attempted to reveal a sacred truth on that day.
As tears washed his face as sins rolled away
With his lips. He was giving me tips to knowledge to those that would die to learn of.
Drunken breath spewing truth of brotherly love.
But I assumed he was mad or really wasted.
He fed me knowledge but I could not taste it.
Wonderment befell me. Why Remo so worried.
To the office I hurried.
Scurried about through the financials
Searching for truth in cryptic answers.
Finally reaching a truth lied within pages.
A story once told but I had not heard for ages.
My grandfather once told me a tale of his days as an agent. How the mob hid fortunes in deposit boxes and how they would take it.
The FBI stripped them naked and downtrodden
These group of men harbored a core so rotten
And callous no certain evil could replicate their malice
The streets flushed red with the blood of the meek
Exploding chariots wasted the land
Smoke from barrels empty shell casings and
The smell of burnt plastic and flesh
Blended as one this world was a mess
They were made men
Made from darkness and wealth
Omerta the code of silencing ones self.
Hundreds of safe deposit boxes sat in our banks
A one and 10 zeros disappeared and left blank
Surprised as I was this news left me perplexed Because Victor Venton signed all the checks
In my name....
Remo's dead body is discovered by Adrienne. As a forensic photographer Adrienne recounts the type of person Remo was. And with a slight feeling of regret for the paths they have chosen. He reflects on the truth.
A Photo of Death
written by Jermaine Williams
To hear of death and its heartbreaking story is one thing To see it is to be it. To experience its never ending tale of sadness and mourning.
Words could never come together to describe it, its un-forming Shape keeps the weak-hearted wake and the strong searching for rules to break.
I make my way with it everyday.
My camera is an eye and the world is a canvas of clay
We sculpt things together focusing and shaping the world
From blurry meanings and misunderstood words
In my lens no one can hide their mortality
To deny us is fallacy a futile attempt to even battle me
I'll crop your dead corpse in a 5 by 5 frame
With no explanation of who you are not even a name
You'll just be another story on the 11 pm news
Strangers will shake their heads. Your loved ones will sing the blues
Victim number some astronomical number
His body ate coldness in the dead of summer
Remo was a tumbler as I like to call them
Some one who stumbles upon luck
And continues to roll the dice
But trust in something so fleeting
Cost him his life
How nice the angels encircle his fallen soul
Waiting for it to rise but his soul has lost control
Unfinished and diminished is its demise
I capture flashes of it in my camera's eyes
I hate being a forensic photographer
I wanted to do weddings
But much like Remo I kept betting
And letting those around me use me up
Now its a day to late a dollar short and little in my cup
So I do jobs for Victor secretly coveting his life
I even lust for his wife. Yeah that’s right
I want to be like him. No I want to be him
Get away with sin and follow it with a grin
Have Godlike invincibility from here to infinity
Its just false hopes of divinity