Balto characters copyright of Universal and Amblin Entertainment

Inspired by Mario Puzio's The Godfather

Continuation...

Chapter 3

Agents Patterson and Smiths were at the station, there to talk with the Chief of Police, a grey hair fellow by the name of Joseph Branford. A middle aged man, whose job had aged him by fifteen years, this is apparent at how tired he looks. Though his physique is that of an old man who’d lived his life, he was able to hide it under his usual light brown suit.

“So, the feds think we can’t cut it out here on our on, so they send us two agents, neither of which that we need. Am I right so far?” he asked sarcastically. Federal presence in small towns isn’t always as “nice” as in big cities. There are usually people, like Branford, who think they’re the only law in their own little world, and when government agents come in being all high and mighty. Not to mention screw up the natural order of things.

Officers will turn a blind eye to alcohol every once and a while, especially if there’s a few extra bucks in it for them. They might even confiscate some for themselves. But the government types, being the lawful citizens that they are, will arrest the first person they spot that’s tipsy. Something like that can get people killed in a place like this.   

“Other than the fact that you have to cooperate with us, I think your doing pretty fine so far” replied Smiths. This put Branford a smile.

“I’d like to know from where you’re getting this cooperation from? We only have thirteen officers and maybe one or two Marshalls in this whole town. We’re stretched thin as it is with domestic disputes and gambling alone. Who do you think we have left to help you bring down gangsters and booze halls?” asked Branford rhetorically.  

“Not many I assume, but lucky for you two, there will be a couple more BOI guys here by next week” said Smiths.

“Great! More feds!” Branford exclaimed.

“Well, if you won’t help us, then I’m sure you’d like to hear from Hoover about this” said Patterson, using the BOI Director as an extortion tool.

Branford was now in an awkward position, swallow his pride and accept Federal assistance, having never asked for it in the first place, or he gets his own head handed to himself by J. Edgar Hoover, and have too accept Federal assistance anyway, with the honor of being chewed out by the BOI Director and probably his own boss. He may possibly even be replaced.

Luckily for him, he was dealt a card that was a subtle acceptance of Federal involvement, but didn’t damage his pride. This card came in the form of a police sergeant knocking on his door. Taking the opportunity to delay his response he said “Come in”.

The Sergeant entered the room, noticing the Fed’s nearby didn’t deter him, “I’m sorry to interrupt sir, but we have a shooting in town. We suspect its gang related” reported the Sergeant.

Seeing an opportunity, the Police chief ran with it. “Well, if you two really want to see what you’re up against, I think it would be best you see this for yourself. Sergeant could you take them?” he half asked, half ordered.

“Yes sir, If you’ll follow me” he said to the agents, who promptly followed.

*******

They arrived at the scene a few minutes later, there wasn’t much of a crowd as would have been expected, in fact there wasn’t anyone. People either just walked by or just took a quick peek, this type of thing being the norm around these parts. There were a couple police officers around, either taking statements or guarding the scene. The coroner’s van out front.

“Why isn’t anyone here?” asked Patterson

“Why see something that you’ve already seen?” the sergeant rhetorically replied. “Here we are” he said as they entered the restaurant. Inside there were the bodies, the tables that were either untouched or there contents spilled onto the floor. There were a few detective type men, along with two police officers, one of which was Jacob Bishop, and there was also the coroner.

“Bishop, Cunningham, Reilly, come say hello to the Fed’s” said the Sergeant. The two detective types and Bishop came over too the three at the entrance.

“I believe you two and officer Bishop have met before” said the sergeant

The three nodded to each other, acknowledging that they had met prior to now. “This is detectives William Cunningham and Daniel Reilly. And this is Special Agent William Patterson and Agent Paul Smiths” said the sergeant, gesturing to each of the men. Everyone delivering shakes and nods. 

“So now that you’ve all met, I have to get going” said the Sergeant, leaving them behind for the investigation.

“So, what do we got?” asked Patterson

“Drive by shooting. Three victims’: Two Husky canines’ and one Caucasian male, early forties. They’re out of Towner’s, since no one of us has seen them. But from what we’ve heard they worked for Frosty” reported Cunningham.

The bodies were lying around a standing table. One of the victim’s was however lying on top of the table. His back riddled full of holes from the window behind him. One had seemingly fallen from his chair, whilst the other had made it as far as the chair opposite the window. They all had a shocked look on their faces. The one that had fallen from his chair had the least bullets in him; one in his shoulder, but another had entered his temple, a result from the kick back from the gun, and ended his life the quickest. The other two had suffocated from their inability to exhale or inhale properly due too their wounds.

“Frosty?” asked Smiths, this crime wasn’t in his field of work, but he at least wanted to see what this town was up against.

“It’s just a nickname, his real name’s Frost and he’s one of the many crime bosses in this town” said Reilly. 

“You think a rival gang got em?” asked Patterson, a little nauseated by the smell of blood and death.

“Well they didn’t die of food poising” said the smart assed coroner, referring to dishes littered around the floor.

“Probably did them a favor, the food here’s worse then anywhere else in 10,000 miles” added Reilly, adding more to the corner’s humor. A few chuckles went around, except for the agents.

“So what happened?” asked Patterson, wanting to get his attention diverted away from the bodies.

“Well…” they started walking from inside the building too outside. “From what the witnesses say. The suspects pulled up in a black car, shot up the place through the window and zoomed off” reported Reilly.

“A bit like your sis” exclaimed the coroner from inside.

Before the detective could reply, Balto stormed into the crowd of witnesses outside, his head scanning back and forth, looking for Jenna. “Jenna!” he cried after spotting his mate. They both ran to each other, Balto embracing his mate whilst she sobbed into his shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s all over. Your alright, it’ll be ok” he said to her.

“Ah good! A chance to talk too Mr. Balto” said Patterson. The detectives tried to stop him, but he got too far ahead of them for them to stop him in time.

Patterson saw Balto as a common criminal who terrorized others so he could rule undeniably, and that Patterson, himself was the man who was going to bring him down. “You think your people reign here? Well, when I’m finished with you and your buddies, you all won’t even have a cell with a window!” Patterson exclaimed, his perception of the world around him being quite flawed. Meanwhile, his colleagues caught up with him and dragged him away before he could do anymore damage. He was dragged into a nearby alley.

“What do you think your doing?” asked Cunningham, quite angry.

“What do you mean, what am I doing?” asked Patterson

“You don’t go and disrespect a Don in public and you definitely don’t do it in front of his family. He could have you killed for that.”

“But he’s got to be the main suspect for these murders. How are you letting him just stand there and admire his handiwork?” questioned Patterson.

“Balto is the last person to kill three ‘Out of Towner’ gangsters in cold blood” stated Reilly, a little cooler than his partner.

“And how do you know that?” asked Patterson, also angry at what he saw as the incompetence of the local police.

“He been trying to keep the peace between the factions for years” replied Cunningham.

“Maybe he’s been plotting behind everyone’s back, trying to get all the business for himself” hypothesized Patterson.

“If he wanted too keep everything for himself, he would have done it over three years ago” said Reilly.

“What happened three years ago?” asked Smiths.

“The Night of Blood” said Cunningham, under his breath. Releasing Patterson from his firm grip.

“What is the Night of Blood?” he asked.

Cunningham and Reilly looked at each other before they gave an answer. “If you want to know. Ask Branford. He knows it all off by heart.” said Reilly.

 “But you guys seem to know about it, why can’t you tell us?” asked Smiths, interested in this new revelation.

“Because, we’re outside” replied Cunningham.

“Now