Page 20 of The Betas: Rene
“Keeping up appearances is not that different from the way the mob operates. There the men drape their wives with the most expensive jewelry and gowns, here it’s suits and shoes. The mob wears Italian suits, you wear English. Have I traded one mob for another?” As awareness swept over his fiancé’s face, Frankie’s tone was not happy.
“No, not so. The Alphas aren’t violent anymore, just competitive. They only need to watch out for the young Alphas in the packs who get ideas above their station. Unlike the mob, we are a force for good despite our violent culture. We give to charity. We run shelters for LGBT teens in almost every city. Now, after Donal and Julio, we have a hotline for gay runaway kids and our auxiliary police patrol the bus and train stations to keep scum like Apuso from preying on kids trying to run from a bad situation.”
“I see…” Frankie nodded.
“We are a major player in pharmaceuticals and green technology. Garou Pharmaceuticals develops drugs for orphan diseases and charges the cost, plus ten percent for the drug, and we are selling direct to consumers through our own pharmacies, so the middleman doesn’t hike the price up to the stratosphere for ours or any other drugs we sell retail. We’re researching a cure for HIV/AIDS, Ebola, cancer, and the common cold. We’ve developed a battery for autos that can go one thousand miles without a charge and only takes fifteen minutes to charge when it runs low. We’re opening at least two charging centers in every state before we release the battery to the automotive industry. This battery is pollution free and cheaper than current batteries for electric cars. We care.”
Frankie cocked his head. “I can see the differences. The mob makes money on human suffering. You still make money, but you do it trying to make the world a better place and still give your people money to live.”
They went downstairs to the parking garage with two boxes then came back to the lobby and grabbed one of the luggage trolleys that the condo association kept for the building and brought it back upstairs. “I’m not going to miss this place.” Frankie opened the apartment door and sighed. “Who did this job before me?”
René considered how to answer his question. He decided not to shade the truth. “A man by the name of Hughes did your job. He was a traitor. He sold information to Chernof, the mad Russian and almost got Vitas taken from Henri. He received a merciful death.”
“In the mob, traitors don’t get merciful deaths. They get Apuso-like deaths.”
“Pierre used to do the job before Hughes, but the job became more robust, and Pierre couldn’t keep up. The Alpha saw that. He authorized Pierre to hire an assistant. Pierre has lost the confidence of our Alpha because he failed to do a complete background check on Hughes, the man he hired. Hughes Caron owed your stepfather’s cronies huge sums of money from gambling. Even with a healthy stipend, a salary, and savings, he got in over his head.”
“He should have gone to The Alpha. At least he would have gotten out alive. The Alpha would have worked something out with Dante,” Frankie said.
He smiled. His Frankie possessed brains. He figured out what Hughes, after decades of being a loup garou had not. If he’d told the Alpha, he would have been scolded, sent to Gamblers Anonymous and kept on pack lands for a few years, but he wouldn’t be dead.
They loaded the rest of the boxes and the two suitcases on the trolley and brought it down to the limousine. René didn’t look forward to what came next. Frankie had to speak to Don Ferone and that wasn’t going to be easy.
