“Mr. Zaterelli? There’s a Zander Melton here to see you?” The voice on the other end of the office intercom was silent.

“Melton? Zander Melton?” Rin Zaterelli looked at the two goons on either side of his mahogany desk, puzzled. Both men stood in unison, ready to bum-rush the door. Zaterelli hired them as bodyguards after both men were fired from two professional football teams.

Jesse Lopez was an offensive lineman playing for the Detroit Lions, drafted out of Oregon State University. Lopez had a reputation for being more than a little aggressive during play. Whether with his own teammates or an opposing team, he ran his mouth all the time. The line refs feared that his behavior would spill over onto their calls, which is why many of the fouls he wasn’t called for were overlooked. However, The ones he got called for were more than warranted.

Franklin Hughes, known on the field as ‘Frankie the Tankie,’ also had a penchant for violence as a linebacker. Frankie, playing for the Miami Dolphins, received a lifetime ban for excessive violence on the field. Miami was playing against the Baltimore Ravens, and before the end of the first quarter, Frankie snapped a defender’s leg, the crunch being heard in every replay. That was the first broken bone. His attacks progressed to drawing blood as well as breaking the nose of Baltimore’s quarterback. The final penalty causing his ejection from the game and putting a lifetime ban on him? Somehow, ‘Frankie the Tankie’ crushed three players, breaking four ribs and another nose. The final straw was when he stomped on the right arm of a wide receiver, shattering the bone in multiple places AFTER the play ended. The game stopped for almost an hour, and the refs and the National Football League considered a replaying of the entire game. The NLF Commissioners did something they had never done before placing a lifetime ban on Frankie the Tankie in the middle of regulation play! Before leaving the NLF, Frankie obliterated the Dolphins visitor’s locker room, costing himself more than three hundred thousand dollars. In addition to the damage, the NFL sued the Dolphins, who, in turn, sued Frankie for more than 3 million dollars.

Frankie, bigger by about eight inches in height and girth, outweighed Jesse, but Jesse had pure muscle definition. Both men started for the door, Rin motioning for them to wait a second, then snapping his fingers, and both men sat down. “Zander Melton. Isn’t he an attorney? He defended, oh, what’s his name?” He snapped his fingers a few times, thinking that would help him remember. And it worked. “Oh, that’s right! He defended Mario about eight years ago. Got him off on a technicality, if I remember it right. Send him in, Brenda.”

No one had built an office door like Zaterelli’s office door. Reinforced steel plating, similar to bank vault doors, with fourteen different mechanisms that locked and relocked the three-inch round bars sliding into the framework that kept the door secure. The structure around the door was so heavy that cranes built the structure. Contractors working on the building thought it was a safe room or a secret bank vault. None of them would have guessed that Zaterelli was building himself a secured fortress in the back of Mario’s Italian restaurant in Beaverton, Oregon. Rin didn’t want to draw attention to himself or his associates by building something in the heart of downtown Portland. This was far enough out of the way that even his rivals would have to come into the heart of Beaverton to find him. Multiple mechanical sounds, like buzzes, clicks, and a chunk, allowed the door to open, like a garage door.

Zander walked into the office, his wingtips clicking on the marble floor. He really wanted to look down, but he was bright enough to know that you never wanted to take your eyes off a mafia don, even one that, by all appearances, seemed legit. Zander noted the two strong men sitting opposite Rin. He did his best to keep both men in his peripheral vision. Having met with several crime bosses over the last ten years, Zander did his best to keep his hands out in the open where everyone could see them. Mario broke several fingers of one of his loyal ‘guys’ while Zander was there, teaching both his guy and Zander a lesson in keeping everything and everyone right in the open.

“Good morning, Mr. Zaterelli.” He looked at the goons, then back at Rin, holding his palms out, fingers splayed. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” The door was still open; Zander could hear the phone ring, and Brenda answered each call with, “Zaterelli’s Incorporated. Hold, please.”

“Of course not! I wonder how you came to call on me, considering we,” Rin stood up, “had no appointment.” He pointed back and forth between himself and Zander. “You ever seen those car salesmen, guys?” Rin pointed at his goons. “You know those guys? They come in, act like your best friend, and then do their best to screw you. And you know something?” Rin got louder and more animated. “They DO! All without any lubrication. It’s like it is in prison, ain’t it, guys?” The two goons never moved, Rin laughing. “So. My friend. Zander Melton, is it?” Rin came closer to Zander, standing right in front of him. “What are you trying to sell me today?” Rin’s nose almost touched Zander’s. He stood close enough that the attorney could smell the cigar he must’ve finished smoking a short time ago.

Zander held up his hands in surrender. “Nothing, Mr. Zaterelli. I am here to offer you my services. I cannot solicit services unless a meeting is scheduled before my consultation. Therefore,” he handed him an appointment card, filled out with today’s date, 10 A.M., “my apologies, sir, for being ten minutes late. Unfortunately, I was delayed by a couple of,” Zander cleared his throat, “gentlemen outside. I showed them my business card and a copy of this appointment card,” he pointed at the card now held by Rin, “and they finally let me in. Brenda was kind enough to offer me an espresso.”

Taking a few steps back, Rin leaned against the desk, flicking the card with his fingers. “An appointment card.” Rin snickered. “Nice touch. And that photocopied appointment card? That’s ingenious! Kudos to you. But,” he flicked the card back to Zander, “I already have half a dozen well-paid, very seasoned attorneys, so why would I need you?”

“I can give you RDF Plastics, and they can launder your money faster than Zaterelli’s Italian eatery can.” Zander stood his ground, waiting for Zaterelli to punch him. He knew Zaterelli’s competitors were after RDF Plastics for a long time, knowing that the plastics industry would slingshot the next crime family into the stratosphere based on sheer production volume alone. But you had to have someone who knew the industry and the ins and outs of business. Someone you could trust. Rin didn’t have that. Neither did the other crime families. He’d make a fortune with RDF Plastics!

“You two,” Rin pointed at the thugs. “Get out.” Both men sat motionless. “I said GET OUT!” Rin pulled a 9mm Glock, aiming it first at Frankie, then Jesse. “You two don’t speak any English?” He cocked the pistol, chambering a round, and waited for them to move. It must have been the gun’s cocking sound making them move that fast because they scrambled like they were on the field all over again, out the metallic door as fast as their legs would carry them. Rin holstered the weapon, the door slowly closing the room from the outside.

“Please, Mr. Melton. Have a seat. I believe we had a meeting scheduled fifteen minutes ago. I apologize for my tardiness.” Rin walked back behind his desk, sitting in the high-backed leather chair. “I understand that we have business to discuss.”

“Yes,” Zander smiled. “Yes. We do.”

“Tell me, Mr. Melton. What’s the plan?”

“You give me five hundred thousand dollars in cash.”

Rin laughed. “You come in here. Tell me about some half-cooked-up idea about bleeding RDF Plastics. Then you expect me to just hand you half a million dollars in cash? You are certifiably crazy or a dead man.” He took out the gun and laid it on the desk. “I’m betting on crazy, but let’s see, sleazy car salesman. Talk your way out of this one.”

“Okay.” Zander stood up. “I’ll be leaving now.”

“Uh, no, Zander.” He aimed the gun at his head. “You won’t be leaving here alive.”

“Yes, Mr. Zaterelli. I will.” He pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number. The ringing sound blared through the speaker. “Gerald Moloski.” Zander pointed at Rin’s weapon, motioning him to lower it.

“Hey, Gerald. It’s Zander Melton.”

“Zander. Good to hear from you. How did your meeting with the angel investors go?”

“Not so good. I’m still talking to our investors, who think this deal is too good to be true. They don’t believe I can deliver what I said I could.”

“You did tell him, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Gerald.”

“Well. I guess we tried. We can find other investors.”

“I believe that’s an excellent possibility.” Rin gestured to Zander to end the call. “Gerald, let me call you back. I believe our investors may be in the mood to change their minds.”

“I’ll have my phone on me. Please get back to me soon. If our investors decide this isn’t for them, I may go in a different direction.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I know something.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Zander.”

“My pleasure, Gerald.” Zander looked at Rin. “So, Mr. Zaterelli?” Rin started grinding his teeth, balling up his fists. Zander knew better than to call a boss by his first name unless he specifically asked you to. “I’ll need that half million in cash in an hour, or I take Gerald’s offer with me.”

Rin stood up, pacing back and forth behind the desk. “You think you can get away with this?”

“No, Mr. Zaterelli. I’m not ‘getting away’ with anything. I’m offering you a chance to invest your money legally and legitimately. You will have bought a Fortune 500 company without lifting a finger. Everything will be in dummy names, leaving you and only you access to all of it. And the best part? No one can seize it. No one can tax it. You are free and clear to do anything you like with it because it’s outside the United States. And what is the reason for starting with a small amount in cash? Because. You, Mr. Zaterelli, are part of a South American conglomerate, meaning you are not the only investor but one of many. Like the demon Legion, you and your fellow investors rely on your judgment to decide how to move their money. So, to recap: you have access to every dime; you can make carte blanche decisions on any financial investment, and most importantly, the United States has no claim on any of it because you are not a United States citizen.”

Rin sat down, popping his neck and stretching. “How long before I see any return on my investment?”

Zander looked at his watch. “Depends on how fast you can get the cash together.”

Rin pulled out his phone and sent a text. “I’ll let you know.” His phone buzzed. “I can have it to you in two hours.”

Zander pulled out his phone and scrolled through various time zones. “If I have it in my hands in two hours? I can triple your investment, turning half a million dollars into 1.5 million in less than three days. But, get it after my deadline? Then it’ll be almost six days before we see a return. Do you see why time is paramount, Mr. Zaterelli?” Zander heard the massive door open.

“Yeah. I understand.” Four armed guards walked into the room, two of them carrying a medium-sized locked box. Both men appeared to be struggling to lift the box. A fifth guard walked into the room, pushing a dolly. “You two,” he pointed at the two who brought the box into the room, “take this outside to Mr. Melton’s car and load it.” He pointed to the other two guards. “And you two? Keep an eye on all of them. Anything happens, I’m holding you two,” he pointed at them both, “personally responsible.”

“Yes, Mr. Zaterelli,” they replied in unison. Zander felt like he was watching two soldiers taking orders from their commanding officer.

“I expect to hear from you in two days, Zander.”

“Absolutely, Mr. Zaterelli. You have my card.” Zander walked out behind the guards, pushing the dolly.