(The camera shows the office of Black Sox owner Vinnie Vitale, who is speaking into a video phone on his desk. The sumptuous room is paneled with dark cherry wood and features a fireplace at one end. Oil paintings of former Black Sox greats decorate most of the walls, but over the fireplace is a large painting of a South Side Towing truck. Vinnie has two visitors – Mickey Mancini, one of his "fixers," and Max Nash, who heads a private investigation firm that Vinnie uses frequently.)
Black Sox owner Vinnie "Mr. Legitimate" Vitale
Mickey Mancini: You mean our butts covered, right?
Vinnie: You got such a way with words, Mickey. But, yeah. I just wanna make sure we’re taking due care here.
Max Nash: Sure. Good idea. Where do you want to start?
Vinnie: Let’s start with you, Max. About our reluctant manure lagoon surfer …
Max: Ah yes. Mr. Ron O’Malley. And what about him?
Vinnie: Well, it would be unfortunate if he would yap to anyone about his little episode over in Indiana …
Max: I think we have Mr. O’Malley buttoned up rather well.
Vinnie: Yeah? Indulge me …
Max: Well, we took the liberty of moving Mr. O’Malley out of his domicile and into a safe house for a few weeks … until the, uh, temperature of this situation cools down a bit. We have a couple of our guys keeping tabs on his old place to make sure we know if anyone interesting decides to pay him a visit.
Private Investigator Max Nash
Max: Yeah. Like the feds … or, say, someone like Heidi Hickman …
Vinnie: Heidi? What’re you talkin’ about, man?
Max: Well, no one can explain how she got the info on Mark Simpson’s re-injury so fast, or how she was in position to get that video …
Vinnie: We don’t have proof it was her for sure, do we?
Max (snorts): Definitive proof? No. A stench coming off her that smells as bad as that pig shit O’Malley dumped? Yeah. That we got. She was in the city the night of the incident, she gave our guys the slip at the hotel … So, we’re being extra vigilant about Ms. Hickman. Did you know she’s taken to wearing black leather and setting up late-night meetings in deserted parks? No? Well, our guys have, um, noticed that. And we don’t like it. So … we got eyes on her. Multiple eyes.
Vinnie: Black leather? Helga … I mean, Heidi? I thought she was Miss Dress for Success around the office here.
Max: Depends on what she wants to succeed at, I guess.
Vinnie (shakes his head): Um. OK. But O’Malley’s outta the way for now?
Max: Yep. Way outta the way.
Vinnie: Wait … you didn’t …
Max (laughs): Off him? Of course not. This isn’t a movie and you aren’t Robert DeNiro. Mr. O’Malley is just … taking some time away from his responsibilities.
Vinnie: OK. I don’t wanna know any more.
Max: No. You do not.
Vinnie: Now, Mickey.
Mickey: Yep.
Vinnie: I’m a little nervous about our Portland, uh, connection.
Mickey: How so?
Vinnie: I’m hearing the feds are starting to wonder a little about whether that stats firm we fingered with the thumb drive would have the sophistication to pull off that code. Apparently they're pretty prehistoric in their equipment and know-how.
Mickey "The Fixer" Mancini
Vinnie: No?
Mickey: No. The thumb drive, as I told you, was … incinerated.
Vinnie: Right, right.
Mickey: We also took the liberty of deep sixing the laptop the code was created on. We wiped the hard drive, took a sledge hammer to it, then sent it and the laptop to the bottom of the Black Sea. Our Ukranian friend is very thorough.
Vinnie: Excellent, excellent. Any danger of him singing?
Mickey: Short answer, no. We’ve got an in or two with the Russian mob, and he knows it would be most injurious to his health if anything were to … slip.
Vinnie: Excellent, men. I feel better already.
Mickey: I don’t know why you’re worried. With all the shit you’ve pulled over the years, nobody’s touched you yet.
Vinnie (sounding wounded): Me? I’m a legitimate businessman. A captain of industry!
Max (laughs): And a bullshit artist, extraordinaire.
Vinnie (looks taken aback, then guffaws): Yeah. That, too. Well, thanks, men!
(All three stand, and Max and Mickey start towards the door).
Vinnie: Hey … on your way out, help yourself to some fruit. Suddenly, we’re overrun with the stuff.
[Video ends]
