Peter and Hughes meet Barelli at the FBI office
Hughes was sitting behind his desk with Peter standing beside him. On the other side sat Barelli, a man in Peter's own age, who had spent all his life on the wrong side of the law, done prison time too, but used the time to settle the foundation of his little empire. This was a man who had every reason to stay away from the FBI but smart enough to know they had nothing on him to keep him there against his will. Barelli represented everything Peter spent his life fighting. The mere fact that they could not bring charges at him made Peter repulsed.
"Last week… somebody walks into my church steals… the Bible," Barelli began.
"A Bible?" Peter asked, surprised that the man knew what a Bible was and would note if one was missing. "An actual Bible?"
"Yeah. You know, the flood, Abraham sacrifices Isaac. You heard of it?" Barelli sneered.
"Why do you want our help?" Hughes asked.
"I'm a taxpaying citizen."
"So?" Peter returned. "File a police report."
"Come on, Burke. You got your guys sitting on me. It's part of the game, I know, but it means that I'm not free to…" He paused and brushed some invisible dust of his pants. "…find out who did this."
"Yeah, it means you're not free to bust heads until you do," Peter replied. Thank God we were sitting on him, he thought.
Barelli turned to Hughes.
"Do I have to take these accusations?" he asked and gestured towards Peter.
"Get to your point," Hughes commanded.
"This Bible it's not just some book that the Gideons leave on the nightstand," Barelli told them and for once looked serious. "This is five centuries of history from Naples. The saints prayed over this book."
Peter clenched his jaws and turned to watch the view over Manhattan. Two seconds later Hughes stood beside him.
"Your personal feelings for Barelli aside," he hissed, to keep their words private. "I don't need the archdiocese crawling down our necks because we refused to help recover a medieval Bible."
"Fine," he mumbled back. "But if Barelli asked for our help, he must really want it back." He turned back to the room and rounded the desk, near towering over Barelli.
"Let's get this straight here. You may go to confession once a week but the Bureau doesn't forgive sins," Peter stated. "We don't work for you."
"Shut down your bookmaking operations at Masso's Club." As far as the Bureau knew, this was this gangster's major income. It would sting.
Barelli gave it ten seconds, gazing back into Peter's stern eyes. Then he smiled.
"Masso's. It's a restaurant." He rose. "See for yourself anytime. After Thursday," he added with a grin. Peter nodded to this. Barelli walked to the office door. He put his palms together. "Please. Please help me find my goddamn Bible."
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