Atlantic City
The top floor penthouse conference room was filling up with over 400 men dressed in expensive Italian designer suits. Many were smoking big cigars. As they took their seats they could look out the massive picture window that faced out to the Boardwalk and the sandy beach on the Atlantic coast. Glasses of expensive cognac were poured . These were no ordinary mobsters.
These were the S u p e r d e l e g a t i, and they were awaiting the arrival of the Godmother.
The Godmother had suffered a minor defeat when she had to concede control of West Virginia to the Sandini family crime syndicate. Yet it was only a setback. She still had the support of the Superdelegati, and that was what mattered. They had come to affirm their support.
Then the Godmother strode in the room with a wide smile on her face and big bulging eyes. There was no sign of the problem in West Virginia or the fact that the feds were breathing down her back. She was among friends.
As the applause died down, the Godmother began an impromptu speech. As she spoke, aides walked around the conference table passing out little wrapped boxes with gifts for the superdelegati. There were Rolex watches for some, diamond stickpins for others, and baubles for their wives and mistresses. Smiles abounded as the superdelegati greedily opened the little boxes with their grubby fingers. They were so engrossed in their presents they didn't notice the faint sound of engines off in the distance.
But the sound of the engines grew steadily louder. Finally, someone looked out the massive picture window. Helicopters were approaching. Crossing the beach from the ocean, they drew closer and closer to the hotel. Who could they be? Could they be hit men from the Sandini family? Could they be FBI agents making the biggest bust in their history?
Stay tuned.
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