The Other World Ch. 01

I don't know who you are, I thought to myself as I looked at that photo... but I am going to find out. And then I am going to find you. And then... well, let's just say: I am Crowbar. I do not forgive. I do not forget.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

At 11:00am, Myron and Mary Milton came to my office, having been called to come over.

"So what can you tell me about the Punk scene in this Town?" I asked. "I know we had this conversation before, in the 'Eyes Only' case, but I want to get up to speed again.

"I've been out of the loop so long," Mary Mahoney Milton said, "that I'm not sure I'm any better off than you are, sir. The Cub Club is beginning to die off, too."

"What about this new club, 'Punk'?" I asked.

"We were just helping Sonali get information on them." said Myron. Sonali was Vice's data person, and while she was competent in getting data she was asked for, she was not ready for Mouseketeer-prime-time.

Myron continued: "A guy named Kevin Greeley is the front for it. He's a pretty well known homosexual, frequents 'Whippets' and 'The Why' a lot. He has a credit card he uses only at those places, and another he uses at reputable shops and for online purchases."

"Behind Kevin," continued Myron, "are some rather mysterious backers. We thought they would be Jay Swenson and Ken Eidex, as Fat Ken hires Kevin for sex, but they're not the ones. This is a new source of venture capital, for lack of a better term, and we're just starting to trace it to Southport."

"Southport, eh?" I said, almost to myself. "Jimmy 'Coffin' Cerone?"

"No sir." said Mary. "He's gotten more and more out of the Mob game since he's gotten into politics. And after his political truce with Molinari, the City-Southport Mob feuds began easing up. We thought they might start working together, but they've basically created the equivalent of the Korean DMZ line, cutting the State roughly in half. The City Mob gets the State to the East, including Sparta and Eastern State University; and Southport got the States to the west and south, which are along the River and are transportation hubs down there."

"Good to know." I said. "Did you get that from the FBI?"

"Oh no, sir." said Mary, with some emphasis. "The SBI. Robert Gaston has actually been doing a decent job as Regional State DOJ Director down there. And SBI Agents Chow and Orosco are making some progress getting information, now that Les Craig of the FBI has been pulled off the Southport assignment and sent to... well, other things."

"What other things would those be?" I asked knowingly. "The City?"

Myron and Mary looked at each other, then nodded, then Myron made the sign with his fingers that I should turn on my bug killer. I got the gold disc out of my pocket and activated it.

"Sir," said Myron, "we have found out from extracurricular sources that Special Agent in Charge Les Craig is being considered for a Deputy Directorship. Actually, 'groomed' might be the right word. It is becoming an open secret that Mr. Muscone's boss is going to retire, or be forced to retire, by October 1st, the beginning of the Federal Budget year."

"Any idea what will happen to Jack Muscone and his team?" I asked.

"No sir." said Myron. "Jack Muscone is also being considered for promotion, which means he'll have to move to Washington, as well. But who falls where is not certain. And if Mr. Muscone is promoted, the future of his team is very much in question. That team will still be there, but they may shift people in and out of it, creating a whole new look."

I nodded. "Thanks for this info, and keep it coming to me. Okay... we've officially strayed off the path of the Punk scene in our Town and County. So who are Metrosexual Kevin's backers?"

"Too early to tell, sir." said Mary. "We're letting Sonali work on this to see how well she handles it, though we're quietly looking through some backchannels. The one thing we're getting is a connection to Midtown. The First State Bank of Midtown, to be exact. They made the loan to Kevin to start his two new clubs, 'Punk' and 'Pink'. We think that's all a front, though, and we're trying to dig under their walls to see what we can come up with."

"Have you contacted Midtown PD?" I asked.

Myron said "I took the liberty of directly contacting their Chief, Frank Soltis, and I used your name in vain in doing that, Commander. What we're finding is that Midtown PD is basically being overhauled. Chief Soltis has put a new team into I.A. answerable only to him; they're like I.A. within I.A. down there. He's also hired a lot of new people, but they don't really know us, and they're very skeptical of outsiders, not to mention dirty insiders."

"Ugly game down there." I said. "And ripe, fertile ground for Organized Crime to come in, get their people wormed into the Police Department, and then plant some roots for criminal activity."

"Yes sir." said Myron. "Chief Moynahan said the same thing." As I peered at him, Myron said "Yes sir, the Chief has talked to us several times about Midtown. He's trying to help Chief Soltis out, as they once worked together, and Chief Moynahan has had us dig into some people Chief Soltis was considering hiring. Chief Moynahan contacts Lt. Evans in Nextdoor County more than you probably realize, as well."

"Oh, I know he keeps in touch with her." I said. "Okay, that's all good. Keep digging, see what comes up---"

*CRRRRACK!!* *KA-POWWWWW*

The huge lightning bolt had struck nearby, the light in the window blinding in its intensity. The power had flickered off and then back on, resetting many computers and the television set. Unprintable curses could be heard in Administration for those standing close enough to hear them.

"Good grief," I said, "I thought Bettina said this wasn't coming in until this afternoon... oh, never mind, she said the State would be blanketed, and we're the northwest tip of it, and catch all the hell first."

"Yes sir." said Myron. "It channels right down the mountain range into the middle of the State. It'll be even worse for them down there."

Part 4 - Mob Rules

At 12:00 noon, Wednesday, Mar. 1st, a meeting convened in Midtown, in the back room of a store called the 'City Typewriter Company'. They sold paper and office products up front, but seeing that typewriters are a thing of the past in all places except lawyers' offices, it was not a hard deduction to make that this 'business' was a front for some extralegal activity.

In the backroom were State Senator Richard Langdon, State Rep. Justin Madoff, their aides, and a man named Jerry Morelli. He was relatively tall, slim, in good shape, and had a full head of once-black but now graying hair that he kept well-styled to look like a business executive. Morelli was of Italian descent, but his mother had strangely named him 'Jerry', and while the rhyme of his name stuck, it still was considered a bit of a black mark against him. His aides were also in the room.

Morelli was a Mobster, a 'made man' and working his way into a leadership position. He'd been in Southport for several years, making sure to avoid conflict with Jimmy 'Coffin' Cerone, and making a mockery of FBI Special Agent Les Craig's attempts to stop him or arrest him.

He'd seen that Midtown was ripe to be made a base of operations, and had moved to take his place there. But he had to contend with others, including Richard Langdon of Madison County, to the east of Midtown. And that is what this meeting behind the 'City Typewriter Company' was about.

"I'll be glad to have you here in Midtown, working with us," Langdon was saying, "as long as you understand that this is where I operate, also. Stay out of the prostitution, which is mine, and be careful with the gambling, which Justin here is moving into in Midtown."

"I appreciate that." said Morelli. "I'm already working with Mr. OBT on a drug pipeline into the University." Mr. OBT, as Orrin B. Taggart was called, was a shipping magnate, whose 'OBT Rail & Shipping' was a powerful transportation company in this region of the Nation. He was also Southport's Boss of Bosses, taking the title and the power after Jimmy 'Coffin' Cerone had moved into politics.

"Wow." said Justin Madoff. "The Iron Crowbar's turf?"

"Someone needs to lay a pipeline to the University," said Morelli, "while the politicians are laying pipe to the girls you provide, Senator Langdon." No one laughed at the bad joke.

"It's not who is laying the pipe, Mr. Morelli," said Langdon, "but who is laying the Crowbar to people's backs. I do wish you luck in your plans, but you are treading on quicksand up there."

"Don't worry, Senator." said Morelli. "My backers have apprised me of that situation, and we think we have some solutions. The Iron Crowbar has never personally gotten very involved in drug interdiction in his County. We hope to set up our pipeline and have it running before his people become aware of us, by which time it will be too late to stop us as we achieve mobility and flexibility in our operations."

"And who are these backers?" asked Justin Madoff.

"We're working through First State Bank of Midtown." said Morelli, sounding evasive.

"That's the front, and you're working through Kevin Greeley and his clubs 'Punk' and 'Pink'." said Langdon. "But who are your real backers, Morelli? And I'll just tell you now... you don't have to answer, but if you don't, you won't be succeeding very well in Midtown, near the University, or anywhere else in this State."

Morelli had hoped to avoid this, but he was trapped, painted into a corner. So he implemented his plan: "My main backer is Franklin Gray. He's working to boost and fund his organization."

"Stormbringer?" asked Justin Madoff. It was a mistake to say that out loud, and Langdon made Madoff feel it with just one piercing look.

"You did not hear that name pass my lips." said Morelli, also stunned at Madoff's bad slip.

"All right, we don't need to go further." said Langdon, getting up out of his chair. "As I said, Mr. Morelli, I wish you the best of luck in your enterprise. I'd suggest you make it migrate it north of Midtown before too long. Mr. Gray is not a man I care to work with, and I will not allow him to operate in my territories."

"Thank you, Senator." said Morelli, standing up along with Langdon. They shook hands, then Morelli shook hands with Madoff and, along with his aide, took his leave of them.

"I'd better call 'Coffin'." said Langdon.

"Don't you mean Orrin Taggart?" asked Madoff. "He's running Southport now."

Madoff did not realize it, but he was very near death. Langdon was not a man of patient temperament like Jimmy 'Coffin' Cerone, and Langdon was getting very, very tired of Madoff's display of incompetence.

"No, you idiot." Langdon said, his voice becoming shrill. "I meant who I said. You better get your head screwed on straight, Madoff. You just made a huge, huge fuck-up mentioning Gray's organization. Fuck-ups like that can prove to be... fatal."

Madoff gulped, suddenly realizing how deep a mess he was in. "I guess I'll be going now. See you at the next caucus meeting, Senator." Langdon did not reply, and Madoff realized he was in trouble. He left. As he and his aide got in his car, he made a phone call to get some additional protection when he got home to the City...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"The weather is about to get bad. Really bad." said State Senator Jimmy 'Coffin' Cerone as he and State Senator Richard Langdon ate lunch at the Midtown Luigi's restaurant, the one where Cerone had hosted the Iron Crowbar some days before.

"Yes, it is." said Langdon. "Is it safe to talk here?"

"Oh sure, sure." said Cerone soothingly. They were in a back room of Luigi's, which afforded them privacy. Their trusted staffs were eating at other tables, the only other patrons in that small room.

"I had a meeting with Jerry Morelli just a few minutes ago." said Langdon.

"Mr. Morelli." said Cerone. "He's been rather quiet the last few years. So how did your meeting go?" he asked, not letting on that he was fully aware of the meeting, and what had been discussed. "What does Mr. Morelli wish to do?"

"He's setting up a drug pipeline from Midtown into the University." said Langdon. "I had no beef with that, until I heard who his backer was... Franklin Gray."

"Isn't he one of those White Supremacist boys?" asked Cerone, who already knew all about Gray.

"Yes." said Langdon. "That fucking idiot Justin Madoff even mentioned Gray's organization's name out loud. I'm wondering if Madoff is more of a liability than an asset right now."

"You might be right." said Cerone. "I'll confer with our colleagues about Madoff's usefulness in the Legislature. If he's expendable, I'll let you know."

"So what about Morelli?" asked Langdon.

"We'll see what happens with him." said Cerone. "Like yourself, I'm very concerned about his backers. Even Molinari wouldn't have anything to do with those national white supremacists groups. They can be as much trouble as the FBI that is chasing them. Best just to stay clear of all that."

"Westboro didn't." said Langdon. "He tried to use them for his own purposes, and almost succeeded, were it not for the Iron Crowbar. I guess that's why you chose to work with your longtime enemy, Molinari?"

"Well, Dick," said Cerone, "Molinari was an adversary; the word 'enemy' might be too strong." That wasn't quite true, but Langdon let it pass as Cerone continued: "And yes, it's much easier to breath and to sleep at night when one works with the Iron Crowbar instead of against him, or at least let the Iron Crowbar believe that."

Cerone continued: "Westboro almost got control of serious Federal power, first through the Corrigan cell, then through Superior Bloodlines and their banksters. The Iron Crowbar showed some iron stones in taking that bastard down, and I don't doubt for a minute he could do that to any of us if he wanted to. You know that from personal experience."

"Yes." said Langdon, remembering the very painful crowbar beatdown he'd received at the hands of the Iron Crowbar for attempting to make Troy's sister one of his prostitutes. "I still want some payback for that. But for now we're too busy. What's next for us?"

"You know, Dick," said Cerone, his voice sounding friendly, underlying the commanding tone of the orders he was giving, "it might be good just to run your current operations, do your Senate work, and carefully cultivate new opportunities. Take it easy. Don't rush into anything or press too hard. That's Katherine Woodburn's folly... she presses too hard, too often. If you ever wanted to take a vacation, to Florida or Hawaii, or the Caribbean... now might be a good time."

"Sound like a good idea." said Langdon. "After the Legislative session is over, I might just do that..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Jerry Morelli arrived at home. His wife Betty was in the sitting room next to their bedroom.

Betty Morelli was a beautiful woman. Raven black hair contrasted with her pale white skin. She was 5'6" tall, with an hourglass shape. She had once been a model, and could fit herself into corsets barely over a foot wide. She could not quite do that now, but still had that beautiful shape: large breasts; saucy hips; a fantastic, heart-shaped, mouthwatering ass, and very shapely legs. Her hands and feet were exquisite.

She alone knew what Morelli considered to be his most shameful secret. He looked like a handsome, virile, business executive... but his penis was only four inches long, and his balls were shooting blanks.

Betty was always very quiet. She had a small mouth and thin lips, which invited being kissed but made her face seem oddly plain for its beauty. She spoke only when spoken to, and was totally submissive and subservient to her husband. That was strange enough to observers, and the unsettled, disquieted feeling they would get was only intensified when they looked into Betty's dark eyes. They seemed lifeless, devoid of feeling. When she did speak, her voice was sultry, seemingly full of promise, but there was never anything behind it, it seemed.

Outsiders always thought it was a marriage of convenience, of business or political purpose. Jerry did love his wife, though their lovemaking was passionless, and was occurring less and less frequently. He did pay attention to her needs, deeply eating her black-fur-fringed pussy before a quick two-minute session of intercourse. But she never asked for sex; instead offering to suck her husband's cock to completion.

It was that way today. "Hello, darling." he said as he came in. Betty's maid, a lovely Hispanic woman named Dolores, who was taller than Betty, refined and elegant in her own right, took her leave of her mistress, knowing the couple wanted to talk. "How was your day today?" he asked.

Betty looked up at her husband, her makeup perfect, her dress clinging to her body, and her high heels adding elegance. "Good." she said, her voice that irritating mix of sultriness and woodenness. "And yours?"

"Very good." Morelli said. "I had a good meeting with some people, and we may have new business ventures soon."

"Legitimate ones?" Betty asked.

"They're all legitimate, darling." Morelli said.

"You know what I mean." said Betty.

"Well, they're not above the law." said Morelli.

"Honey, we've talked about this." Betty said. "When are you going to get out of that racket and just have clean, legitimate businesses? Mr. Cerone was able to do that."

"I know, dear." said Morelli. "But if and when this one goes through, we can retire to a beach anywhere you like... anywhere. And no more businesses of any kind."

Morelli was standing very close to his wife's face as she sat at her small vanity table. She noticed that he was getting an erection. He always got aroused after 'business' deals. She reached up and unzipped his pants.

"You always get hot when you negotiate big deals." Betty said. She then engulfed her husband's half-hard cock, which took little effort.

"Mmmmmmf!" Morelli gasped. He stood and watched his now-hard cock sliding in out out of his wife's small mouth, enjoying the sight as much as the feeling of her tongue lashing at his slender shaft.

After a few moments of being fellated, he helped his wife to her feet. "Let's get you out of that dress." he said as he unzipped it from the back and let it fall down her body. Now naked except for her garter, stockings, and heels, she dutifully lay back onto the bed as her husband quickly stripped of his clothes. Once naked, he climbed onto the bed and mounted her.

"Oh yeah..." he softly moaned, enjoying as always the feeling of Betty's cunt enveloping his four inch cock. He began to pump in and out of her with rapid strokes. Betty began gasping and breathing hard, and Morelli never knew if she was faking it, or not. Nevertheless, he heedlessly drove on, fucking his wife in a hard, fast rhythm.

Something caught the corner of his eye and he looked over to see Dolores peeking through the door. She was drop-dead gorgeous, Morelli thought of the lovely maid, but he'd never tried to fuck her; Betty was plenty good for him. In truth, Dolores inwardly laughed at her mistress's husband's small penis, knowing she could, and did, give Betty more pleasure.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah, I'm coming!" Morelli gasped. Barely over one minute, Betty thought; it must be a really, really big business deal. She lay there dutifully as Morelli came, shooting his load inside her. It would seep back out very quickly as a creampie, Betty knew, as her husband did not shoot his sperm very deep inside her...

Part 5 - Canine Vibes

The rain poured down in sheets during the afternoon, adding to the gloom of the near-darkness as the storm passed through our County. Captain Croyle reported to me that the Precincts were very busy responding to reports of traffic accidents and downed power lines, but the Uniformed Officers were handling things very well, so far. She also said University Hospital was ready for any storm casualties, but so far nothing of consequence had happened.