TITLE:    That Shotgun Shine (7/?)
AUTHORS:  Paige Caldwell, David Stoddard-Hunt
RATING:   NC-17 (this section)
FEEDBACK: paigec38@yahoo.com , dmstoddardhunt@yahoo.com
WEBSITES: http://www.geocities.com/mattersofbelief
          http://www.iwtbxf.com/paige
NOTE:     Full headers with part 1. Parts 1 - 6 are here:
          http://www.iwtbxf.com/paige/Shotgunshine.htm

****************
Satriale's Pork Store
Kearney, New Jersey

"Well, I agree with Hesch. Their information better be some Grade A 
shit to be worth what they're askin'," Ally-Boy Barese said. "Gold. 
Twenty-four friggin' karat."

"And there'd better be lots of it, follow me?" Carlo Gervasi added.

As so often happens with business deals of the sort, negotiations 
had run smoothly until the question of fair value had arisen.

"Now wait a minute," Hesch objected mildly. "That wasn't the point 
I was trying to get across. What I said," he turned in his seat to 
face Tony directly, "was that it will be difficult to assign a 
precise value to the information they propose to hand over. Whereas, 
we can determine the cost of labor and materials to the penny. We 
can even set the value for that penny." Hesch's joke was shared 
with Tony but almost no other.

"So, Heschie, are you sayin' that therefore this cannot be done?" 
Silvio asked, his frown deepening and overcast with furrowed brow.

Hesch shook his head. "Of course it can be done." 

The consigliere's expression relaxed, although the dark clouds in 
his brow never quite dissipated, even when he smiled. 

"But!" Hesch thrust an index finger into the air. Silvio's frown  
returned immediately. "It's not at all a simple matter. The actual 
value of the goods and services we're being asked to render will 
fluctuate very little over the near to mid term, and even 
beyond. On the other hand, with the type of information Mr. Mulder 
and Miss Scully are peddling, well, its value is evanescent. 
Depending on the circumstances, it could fluctuate wildly from 
day to day, even from moment to moment."

Hesch was in his own world, his own head here. Tony had long ago 
learned to give him wide latitude in such matters, trusting that 
it would be in the family's best interests in the end. Still, it 
was a frustrating exercise to wait for him to tease these things 
out.

"Hesch! In English, please?" Tony's laugh was genuine, but his 
intent was dead serious, and Hesch knew it.

"Tony. The value of this information, it's, it's like a live 
performance by a top name act. They may be at the top of the charts 
now, but you don't know what will happen next year, or even next
week. Fame is fleeting, and so is their draw. The same concert by 
the same group even two weeks apart? Could be as different as night 
and day, financially."

Mulder had been following this discussion closely all along. Yet, 
when Hesch drew the musical analogy, Scully saw Mulder's eyes 
alight and his stance incline toward the older man. These were 
signs she recognized; warning bells. This was the type of 
conversation in which Mulder would happily get lost, delving 
through minutiae and oblivious to whatever was going on outside 
his own head.

"I think I see your point. If you knew, for example, that the Sam 
Cooke concert for which you held tickets that evening was actually 
going to be the last one he gave before his death, the value of the 
tickets would be astronomical, and the tickets for the concert the 
following weekend would be worthless.  What would you do if you knew
this was the last concert and didn't have tickets? Would you 
leverage the house, the car and the kids to record the event? 
There's an element of speculation and of risk to it. It's like the 
futures market."

"Precisely!" Hesch exclaimed, his normally placid features alive 
with delight. "Sam Cooke, hmm? Now there was a performer."

It was too close a call to determine who stepped in first to stop 
this slide into arcana, Scully or Tony.

"Mulder! Forest for the trees," she cautioned, using a shorthand 
all too familiar to him.

"So, Hesch. After all dat, are we any closer setting a price on 
their information, or what?" Tony moved closer to his adviser, who 
rose to speak quietly.

"It could be entirely useless to us and, therefore, of no value
at all. However, if even a piece of it allows us to quell an 
investigation or to direct our activities in a less scrutinized
direction, then it could be worth every penny. But, that analysis
doesn't mean shit. What it all comes down to, Tony, is this. What 
does your gut tell you? Do you feel it's worth it?"

Tony raised his eyebrows briefly but kept his expression neutral. 
He looked around the room, seeking a private second or two. The 
wall calendar hadn't been changed since the last time Pussy had 
played Santa Claus for the neighborhood kids, right here in this 
room. 

He turned back to Hesch and confided, "I get enough of this 
touchy-feely bullshit from other parties, you know what I'm 
sayin'?" Like very few others, Hesch did. "And all I get in my 
gut is agita. I want to know from you. What do you think?"

"Okay." Hesch paused, although it was out of habit more than a 
need to gather his thoughts. "To me, it's no-lose. It could be 
the mother lode, Tony. And, even if it turns out the Bureau 
doesn't know shit about us, isn't that something? Something 
worthwhile? Either way, what have you lost? You've moved some 
union guys around. Big deal."

"I'll tell you what the big deal is," Paulie interposed himself 
between Hesch and Tony, but carefully off to one side. "We don't 
need to be pissin' wit' two ex-feds; I don't care what dey're 
sellin'. Especially now, what with "Junior" under indictment? T, 
we don't need no more heat on us." 

Silvio came over to ease Paulie discreetly to a more sensible 
distance, away from Tony's personal space. Paulie, unwilling to be 
shunted and desperate to be heard, pleaded with his boss one last 
time.

"T, we got Chrissy to do all that computer horseshit. We don't need 
to take strunz' off a mezzofinook." 

Mulder had the feeling he'd been insulted, though he didn't know 
exactly why. He rose to his own defense. "Actually, I don't care 
how good this "Chrissy" is. He can't beat our hacker's mojo." He 
cast a glance aside at Scully. " It's positively otherworldly." 

"Oh, I don't know about dat." In the din, no one but Tony had 
seen another person enter the room. "Your guy may be good," Tony 
welcomed a slender, dark haired young man into the circle, "but 
our guy's got timing."

"Paulie," Christopher Moltisanti acknowledged the captain of his 
crew. Then he turned to address Scully, avoiding Mulder. "This 
disk T gave me. It came from you?" 

Scully's chin rose as she answered. "From us, yes." 

There were smiles from most of the assemblage at Scully's 
unflinching courage, though not in admiration. It was a nice 
trick, this one, like a pet trained to respond. The feeling wasn't 
personal; it was tradition. Women had no place in the business 
dealings of the family. The fact that a woman was now the de facto 
head of the family in old Napoli was left conveniently awash on 
that far shore.

Christopher nodded, satisfied, and turned to face his uncle.
"They're right, T. This shit is 99.9% pure. I've hacked into field 
offices before, gotten through a couple of firewalls and rummaged 
around, but they always catch on after awhile. And what I get? 
Ain't nothing like this. This is the real deal." 

The terminology rang in Mulder's ears. Drugs. Christopher 
Moltisanti not only dealt in them; he used them. The rest 
of the assembled capos had become too inured to his speech to 
recognize this. It was useful; something to be filed away. Useful 
for what he didn't know. But they didn't have much and this was 
something, at least.

Hesch glanced at the silver wafer in Chris' hand and looked up, 
his own hand outstretched.  Obediently, the former cugine 
surrendered the precious disk. Hesch held it up for Silvio's 
inspection. One silent vote later, he and Silvio nodded as one to 
Tony. Unfortunately for Mulder and Scully, the vote was hijacked 
by a filibuster.

"Now, wait just a fucking second." Ralph Cifaretto. By now, even 
the two former agents had begun to tune out Ralph's histrionics. 
"They gave you some shit on a disk and then, what? We wait until 
they decide to dole out more crumbs like some starving welfare 
poverett? What's next, Tone? Fucking government cheese?

"I think that "free cheese" deal is no longer active," Mulder 
interrupted, unadvisedly.

"I could give a shit, gumshoe!" Ralph snapped.

"Gumshoe?" Mulder groused, receiving an elbow from Scully for his 
trouble.

"I'll tell you what we do," Ralph continued, unstoppable. "We 
take the information they've given us and boot their sorry, 
craaaaaazy asses back down the turnpike." He paced the floor like 
a profane evangelist. "Hell with 'em. We take what's on the disk, 
then what's in their heads, and *then* we boot 'em. Down the 
turnpike, off a bridge, into outer space," he stared at Mulder, 
grinning. "What's the difference?" He scanned his fellows, 
expecting to receive at least nodding support. Instead, he 
slammed headlong into glacial expressions carved in granite. 
This non-reaction seemed only to fuel his fervor.

"Oh, come on! They have information about *us*. This information, 
it was ours to begin with, and it was taken, stolen, from us. 
What's ours is ours, and we take it back. Am I right?" Ralph 
laughed at how painfully obvious this should be. "No one should 
have a problem with that, Tone. Except maybe for them." He didn't 
point. He didn't need to point. Mulder and Scully suddenly felt 
very exposed.

"This is who we are; it's what we do. F'r fuck's sake! We're the 
biggest goddamned kid on the block. We take what's ours." At the 
last, his impassioned sermon trailed off. "We take what we want."

To Mulder, this bizarre inspirational address was something out of 
a mafia-meets-Knute Rockne film. He half expected Ralph to close 
with "Let's win one for the Clipper."

Ralph, having received no acknowledgement in the slightest let 
alone support, from his fellow capos, looked crestfallen but only 
momentarily. He rallied in such a way that, for the first time, 
Mulder began to have second thoughts about his plan.

"Yeah, so we take the information and get ridda them. Unless, of 
course, there's something they've got that they'd consider trading 
for their lives," Ralph said, the swagger returning to his voice. 
"Y'know? I think Agent Scully here is understandin' me perfectly. 
Ain't that right, Red?" Ralphie stepped toward Scully, leering. 

She stiffened but didn't back down. Instead, she turned to address 
Tony, ignoring Ralph as if he was a common soldier. 

"Mr. Soprano," Scully began, then stopped. 'Mister' seemed an 
inappropriate honorific. She knew that there must be another, 
more appropriate title but couldn't lay her fingers on it. It was 
a blessing, she'd tell Mulder hours later. Saying "Don Soprano" 
would have caused her to burst out in giggles.

"Sir, I can barely count all the risks we've taken in order simply 
to present this arrangement to you, not the least of which is the 
threat you and your associates could easily pose to our well being, 
as you kindly pointed out to my partner when we first met. And 
although, up to now, you've had no proof of this fact other than 
our word, we are being hunted, hunted by elements of the government 
anxious to silence us for what we know. I believe that you, sir," 
Scully indicated Christopher with a nod of the head, "can now 
confirm that statement." Moltisanti nodded. Tony could see that, 
whatever information he'd seen, it had impressed, even scared him. 
This, more than anything, was as good a character reference as 
these two were likely to receive. 

"Quite frankly, Mr. Soprano, we risk our lives every time we enter 
a town of any size. Coming here is a risk that we would either have 
to be crazy to take, or foolhardy, or desperate and absolutely 
certain of our cause. And although I may have my moments of doubt, 
I can assure you that we are not crazy. A little foolhardy, maybe, 
but only because of the dire need we face."

Now, this, Mulder thought, was an inspirational speech. The 
Gipper would be proud.

"We've devoted our lives, to the exclusion of all else, even 
family," the stress in her voice was evident to everyone present, 
"to fight for the lives of every person on this planet, law abiding 
or not. Whether you know it, you're in this fight, too. If 
you don't believe us, won't pick up our fight, fine. You're not 
alone. But, you're men of honor. You owe us the benefit of the 
doubt. We've earned that, at the least, in coming to you."

Scully knew she had the boss' full attention and scrutiny. In the 
quiet after she finished speaking, she gathered her resolve and 
stared right back.  Tony's smile was more than amusement. He was 
genuinely impressed with this one. He saw her arched brow and 
raised her a grin.

"Owe you?" Ralph's honor had clearly been slighted. "We don't owe 
nothing! You owe us! Fucking Feds. Where's the respect? Huh?" he 
shouted at his fellow capos.  "Where is the respect? We don't need 
any of this. We're doing pretty damn good on our own." Ralph turned 
to give a once over to the former agents. "Aliens? Christ, that's 
such bullshit! Tony, mi paisan', these two are messin wit' your 
melon. Use your brain! Unless, of course, that ain't the head you're
thinkin' wit."

Scully colored and fought to maintain her composure. "This is not 
helpful, Mr. Cifaretto," she said flatly.

"This isn't helpful, Mr. Cifaretto. This isn't helpful, Mr. 
Cifaretto." Ralph paced in a tight circle before he whirled toward 
Scully, shouting "who gives a fuck what you think, pucchach?" He 
was in front of her in a stride and a half, his arm winding up 
ahead of his arrival. Cifaretto's open-handed slap caught Scully 
across the cheek with such force that she was spun around and 
knocked to her knees.

Anyone who was seated rose; all were instantly on alert, uncertain 
how this would play out. Mulder had been caught utterly off-guard 
by the sneering little captain's outburst. By the time he moved to 
her aid a moment later, Scully was already on the rise. He 
watched, amazed and stupefied, as she pivoted on one knee and drew 
her weapon deftly from her inside jacket pocket, leveling it at her 
assailant's groin. Vaguely, Mulder wondered how she'd managed to 
sneak a gun through to this room. Then he wondered why he hadn't 
thought to do the same. All the made guys in the room apparently 
had.

Slowly, calmly, four or five of the men drew weapons, but none 
troubled to aim. Tony, intrigued by the turn of events, motioned 
for the other capos to stand down. They let their guns drop to 
waist level and held them there loosely, for all to see. 

Ralph stood poised to act, nervous, totally focused on the barrel 
of the gun aimed his way. He knew that he dared not reach for his 
own piece. In his life, he wouldn't have thought a woman could get 
the drop on him. It was humiliating. He looked to Tony to help him 
out of the situation. Instead, he found himself sinking ever 
deeper.

"Hey, Ralphie," Silvio said. "This was an important meet. You 
didn't think the lovely agent would come heavy? Where's the 
respect?" His cohorts chuckled at Silvio's imitation and at Ralph's 
predicament. Only Mulder seemed to want Scully to back down.

"Scully..." he whispered a soft prayer. He may as well have stayed 
silent.

Scully rose, her aim never wavering.

"Ralph," Tony's voice was calm, rich with stifled amusement. "I 
don't t'ink you've left a very good impression on Miss Scully, 
here."

"Ho!" Ralph raised his hands slowly into the air. "I just ain't 
used to bein' talked to that way by no broad." The word "broad" 
had half a dozen superfluous phonemes in it. "Nothin' personal, 
you understand." 

"Ralphie..." Tony coaxed.

"All right." Cifaretto heaved a put-upon sigh. "All right, I'm 
sorry,for Chrissake. I'm sorry, okay?" He walked toward Tony, 
facing Scully the entire time. 

Scully lowered her gun to let him pass. 

As he approached, the similarity in their stature became clear. 
He passed within a foot of her.
 
"Cunt," he said, in a stage whisper.

Scully pivoted around on the balls of one foot so that she faced 
him again, and decked him with a single punch to the jaw. Ralph 
collapsed to his hands and knees.

She turned to face Tony. With composure marvelous to behold, 
Scully said, "We're through here, for now. We'll find our 
own way home." 

Tony nodded, smiling, mightily impressed. As she turned toward 
the door, Tony added "Have Furio drive you. Tell 'im 'Mr. Tony' 
said so." 

With a glance, Scully collected her partner, who followed her 
out, numb with disbelief.

As the door shut behind them, Christopher and Silvio helped a 
virulently swearing Ralph to his feet, both laughing uncontrollably 
as they did so. Even Tony was chuckling between satisfied puffs on 
his cigar.

"I don't t'ink she likes you very much, Ralph. An' 'at's too bad, 
too. Because we're going to be doin' business wit' dem, I have dis 
feeling." 


-end 7/? -