Hi, and welcome to the second story in the "Anything Goes" series! Yes, this is the continuation of the tales of those delightful characters I introduced you to in the last installment! Same disclaimer applies...I own no celebrities, nor do I own the song "Mack the Knife". The version that appears in this fic is from Robbie Williams' "Swing When You're Winning" album, which I also don't own. But the story is mine, so please don't steal it! :)

MACK THE KNIFE

Oh the shark, babe, has such teeth, dear,
And he shows them, pearly white,

There was a gentleman standing discreetly by the sectioned-off restrooms, and if you hadn’t been looking in his direction you wouldn’t have noticed the slight hand-signal he gave as a taller, suit-clad man passed him. Even this tall man showed no signs of noticing, though no doubt he knew what had happened. He’d organised it, after all.

There was only one person in the entire club who’d noticed – fortunately it had been the right one. Orlando Bloom stood immediately, though casually. “Will you excuse me?” he asked the group at large, hating to leave the conversation, but knowing that there were far more important things afoot.

The ladies at the table made a fuss and the gentlemen reprimanded him gently, jokingly. “If you break the seal, my friend,” called Billy Boyd, “it won’t close again all night!”

Orlando flashed his most charming grin back at him, and continued in the direction of the restrooms.

“Mr Bloom,” said the discreet man who had given the signal, with a polite nod of his head. Orlando tucked a twenty dollar bill into his lapel pocket.

Just a jackknife has MacHeath, babe,
And he keeps it, out of sight,

“Good evening, Mr Jones.”

He turned into the long corridor that housed both the men’s and ladies’ bathrooms, but bypassed these altogether. There was another room, a private lounge, used only by Karl Urban, the owner, and a few select guests, and it was here that he headed. Pushing open the door he was greeted by a dim light and a cloud of perfumed air, a stark contrast to the corridor he was standing in, and stepped inside.

“Bloom,” came a heavily Italian-accented voice from within.

“Mr Valentino,” Orlando replied, his tone deep and casual. If he was intimidated, which he wasn’t, he didn’t show it. “You wanted to see me.”

There were four men arranged on the luxurious leather sofas that were set in a circle in the center of the room. One was nothing more than a guard, perhaps the nephew of the great Don who wanted to get into the business, and two were Valentino’s right-hand men. Then there was Rudolph Valentino himself, seated in the center like royalty.

Now that’s dignity, Orlando thought. There was something timeless about the old man – and surely he was old, seventy-five at least. But his suits were tailor made of fine silk, his white hair neatly combed, the carnation in his lapel fresh, and there wasn’t a trace of fat to be seen. He looked healthy – perhaps even healthier than the last time Orlando had seen him, six months ago, and he envied him that.

“You look well,” Orlando said, stepping forward to place a kiss on each of the old man’s cheeks.

Valentino smiled, a deceptively kind grin. “I feel well,” he said. “But now, Mr Bloom, we must get down to business.” He invited Orlando to sit, directly opposite him, and the guard – nephew – poured scotch. When all was settled and well, Valentino leaned forward in his chair, the kind expression dropping to one of cunning business – the expression he usually wore. “You know who the target is, and why. You also know how important this is to me, to the family. There’s no-one else I trust as much as you, Mr Bloom, and I want this done tonight. As soon as possible.”

Ya know when that shark bites with his teeth, dear,
Scarlet billows start to spread,

Orlando nodded solemnly. Though he wasn’t a member of the family himself, this wasn’t the first time his services had been called on. Nor would it be the last. Valentino had done many favours for him, and Orlando would be glad to repay them, even if it meant for the rest of his life.

“Consider it done,” he promised, standing. “And if you have the urge, go ahead and order yourselves a bottle of champagne. Put it on my tab.”

And he was gone, his mind going into overdrive as he stalked the length of the corridor back to the main ballroom of the club. Already his mind was forming a plan, a foolproof one. Valentino despised mess, despised complications. Get in, do your job, and get out. That’s exactly what Orlando planned to do.

And someone's sneakin' 'round the corner,
Could that be our boy, Mack the knife?

He approached the table again, leaned over the back of Karl Urban’s chair. “Mr Urban,” he said in a friendly tone. “Some friends of ours have been enquiring about a Mr Jude Law. Have you seen him tonight?”

A hint of understanding passed across Urban’s face, gone before any of the party could notice it. “I have indeed,” he replied, as casually as Orlando had spoken. “In fact, he’s over by the bar right there, sweet-talking the ladies, no doubt.”

“Ah, well, our friends would like to see him. Thank you.”

He began to move away, and Urban called out to him. “Mr Bloom, tell our friends that I appreciate their interest in Mr Law.” Orlando nodded, and kept moving.

From a tug boat, down by the river, dontcha know,
There's a cement bag just dropping on down,

Orlando was rivalled in looks and female attention only by one person – Mr Jude Law, who stood so casually at the bar. Law was the self-assured type, some would even say cocky, with his childish grin and slightly messed hair. Orlando had overheard a conversation between two ladies once that claimed he had ‘bedroom eyes’, and a magnetising sexual allure, that assured that he never slept alone.

Law looked up as Orlando approached, gave a grin. Orlando smiled back, keeping his features open and his voice light. “There’s a special delivery coming in a few minutes, and Mr Urban would like the two of us to take care of it,” he announced, sliding onto the stool beside the man and taking a swig of the brandy that was placed in front of him by the generous barkeep. If Law was confused, he didn’t show it. Urban had a reputation for running a not-entirely reputable establishment, and was constantly calling in his most trusted friends to handle any special deliveries that may come up.

“Sure,” said Law in a British accent not unlike Orlando’s own. “Be glad to help.”

“Good,” replied Orlando, draining his glass and standing up. “Let’s get to it then, get it over with.”

That cement's there, it's there for the weight, dear,
Five'll get ya ten old Mack, he's back in town

The same corridor he’d traversed before ended in an oversized doorway if you kept walking past the private lounge, and it was through here that all special deliveries were handled. As usual it was deserted, as was the alleyway that it opened on to. “So what’s he dealing in this time?” Jude asked. “Illegally imported French champagne? Girlie postcards? Or is it drugs again? Did you try that last shipment of stuff he got in – to die for.”

“Yeah, I did.” The weight of the job was bearing down now, as Orlando scanned the alleyway. Nice and deserted, just the way he liked it.

Behind them, the door opened once more, and out stepped two of Valentino’s men. They each nodded to Orlando, and stood back out of the way. “Hey, you gonna introduce me to your friends?” Jude asked, but all the joviality had disappeared completely from Orlando’s demeanor.

D'ja hear 'bout Louie Miller, he disappeared, baby,
After drawing out all, his hard-earned cash,

“My good friend Mr Urban says you’ve been stirring up trouble for him,” he said darkly, seeming to melt into the shadows of the dark alley. Jude, clicking as to what was happening, looked frightened. “He says you could’ve really screwed him over with that last stunt you pulled – allowing four hundred pounds of cocaine to get into the hands of the police. You could have shut down the whole operation. And not only would that have put Mr Urban out of business, it would have made a royal pain in the ass for the esteemed Mr Valentino as well.”

At the mention of Valentino’s name, Law dropped his hands to his sides. “So that’s what this is about,” he said in a low voice, so quiet he was barely heard. Then his tone turned desperate. “Well tell Urban and Valentino that it wasn’t my goddamn fault. We got raided, what was I supposed to do…”

But Orlando just shook his head. “This isn’t the first time you’ve screwed up, Jude,” he said. “In fact, I’m told that this incident numbered the sixth time you’ve come close to fucking up the whole operation. Six times, Jude.”

And now MacHeath spends, he spends just like a, like a sailor,
Could it be, could it be, could it be, our boy's done something rash?

From the inside pocket of his coat he drew a revolver, fully loaded, and unclicked the safety. “I’ve known you a long time, and I hate to do it, but it’s necessary.”

He raised the revolver just as Law barrelled towards him, landing a swift punch to his stomach. Orlando doubled over, his finger automatically squeezing the trigger, and the bullet ricocheted into a trash can by the door. “Dammit!” he yelled, winded, but drew himself up despite the pain. The force of the punch had thrown Law himself to the ground, and before he could pull himself up another three bullets ripped through his back, and he lay still in a pool of blood.

Now Jenny Diver, oh Sukey Tawdry,
Look out Miss Lotte Lenya, and ole Lucy Brown,
Yeah, the line forms on the right, babe,
Now that Macky's back in town

Orlando wiped sweat from his upper lip. “Get rid of him, boys,” he said to Valentino’s lackeys, and they moved at once, to drop the body into a dumpster at the end of the alley. Urban paid big bucks for that dumpster to be emptied only by his people, and it was a known safe-spot for Valentino’s business dealings. Just as the lid banged closed, two figures in police uniforms rounded the corner.

“We heard tell of a disturbance in here a few minutes ago,” the first officer said, approaching the three men. “You three know anything about it?”

I said Jenny Diver, woah, oh Sukey Tawdry,
Look out Miss Lotte Lenya, and ole Lucy Brown,

Orlando fingered the revolver in his pocket discreetly, praying that in the darkness they wouldn’t notice the pool of blood. “Yeah,” he said quickly. “There was a wino hanging around here, trying to bum cigarettes and drinking money from us. When we refused he got angry, kicked a few trash cans and made a racket. But he’s gone now, officer.”

The officers nodded, and continued on their way.

Orlando turned to the two lackeys. “Good work, boys.”

The first nodded. “We’ll tell Mr Valentino that the business is done. I’m sure he sends his thanks.”

“Tell him don’t mention it.”

Back inside they parted ways, with the lackeys heading back into the private lounge and Bloom returning to his table, as cool and collected as if the business had merely been a monetary transaction.

“What delightful scandals did I miss?” he asked with a grin as he sat down, signalling a waiter for a drink. Conversation resumed as if nothing had ever happened, until the new kid – Johnny Depp – leaned over to him.

Yeah the line forms on the right, babe,
Now that Macky's, back in town...

“There’s blood on your hands,” he whispered, his dark eyes full of curiosity. Looking down, Orlando saw that indeed, his hands were spattered with now-dried blood. He looked back up, daring to look into those still-innocent eyes.

“Don’t ask, kid,” he said, rougher than he’d intended. “You don’t wanna know.”

Johnny sat back in his chair, clearly unnerved, but didn’t say anything.

Good kid, he thought. Just keep your mouth shut. It’s the smartest thing you can do around here. He sat back and studied the guy, so green, so raw, so utterly overwhelmed by the glamour that surrounded him.

Just stay out of trouble, kid, and you’ll be fine.

Look out, old Macky is back, wow!

GOODNESS!!

I literally devoured this story.. yes, brilliance, just like the previous one. This time sadly I cannot quote too many lines (the girls will be happy I'm leaving something for them) but...

JUDE!

There was something so frigging sexy in the whole setting of this scene... and I am also very, very pleased to see the appearence of Rudolph Valentino and his ragazzi... so, what am I to him? Daughter? Niece? :tsk:

Too bad Jude was killed.

*shrugs*

K'wel, sea's plenty of fish yet.

:love: I love your dark side of the Force, my precious!

:blink: Jess! There is no way to say how much I loved this! You are doing such an amazing job with creating this alternate world, I can see it so clearly in my mind. You've got the 'mood' of this club down, it works so perfectly!

I love Orlando working for the powerful Valentino, or doing him a favor, maybe I should say. ^_^ All the deception and violence...it's absolutely delicious. And, now we see what kind of place Karl truly runs. :yes:

Poor naive little pretty boy Jude taken out by pretty boy Orlando. haha! You gotta love that, plus, choice of song...PERFECT!

Just loved that line...very fitting for our Jude.

I fear for our innocent Johnny. Maybe he is not really realizing what he has gotten himself into with this group.

And, the tale has only begun!!!!

I am so hooked, it is great! Looking forward to the next installment!

Eeeeeeeeeps!!!!
This is so amazing!
I love all the tension.
This would be such an amazing long fic.

You've out done yourself with this one!!

~Stacy~

Brilliant brilliant brilliant. I love how you incorparate the songs and I love the whole ganster themes and brilliant