Mist swirled above the empty graveyard, resting first on one tombstone, then being caught in the wind and resting on another, like a moth looking for pollen in a bed of flowers.

The night itself was dark, but the mist prevented the light of the stars pushing through and merely chilled the air as the breeze floated cooly around the stone graves.

Two men alone stood in the graveyard, both were wearing long trenchcoats and fedoras, stood in the only place where moonlight managed to push through like being on stage.

"Where did the boss say he was buried?" One asked the other. The speaker was larger than his counterpart, his chins overlapped to hide his neck which was already half buried in the collar of his coat. His little moustache twitched.

"I'm not sure, Tony. Somewhere in the graveyard. If we just look at the tombstones we'll find it eventually."

"Just wish this fog wasn't here," Tony replied, "Would make it a lot easier and a lot less spooky."

"Yeah well it is," his partner looked annoyed, "Now stop your whining and grab this spade. You're big enough and ugly enough to carry your own tools!"

The two men left their spotlight and walked along the moist grass along the rows of tombstones, their footsteps making tattoos below them.

"Why I we doing this again Louie?" Tony wanted to know, "If he's dead, he's dead. Don't know why the boss is worried."

"Don't you pay any attention?" Louie was getting more and more irritated. "A feed says someone tipped the cops off that he was murdered and not that he committed suicide, so the boss wants the body taken back to him before the cops get to it and re-do the autopsy. If they find any fingertips on the body that belong to the mob, we're all done for."

The body itself belonged to Marco Pandicelli, an underboss of a rival family. The Pandicellis were big in the gambling industry, particularly in the main casinos in Chicago and London and also had ties in some in Monaco. Marco himself was a manic depressive, and this had been exacerbated by the fact that his wife had slept with most of the goons below him.

The family that Louie and Tony belonged to, the Maldinis, had decided to capitalise on this by killing off Marco Pandicelli and make it seem like suicide. This would then severly weaken the family for a potential takeover.

A Maldini had worked his way into the family as a spy and once he had been accepted, he had acted as Pandicelli's consigliere, a type of advisor to the family. Pandicelli had trusted him and on particularly depressing day for Pandicelli he had invited the spy home for bourbon and cards. This had given the spy time to react. He had strangled Marco, tied him up with a rope from a beam in his bedroom and had gone back down to dinner with the rest of the Pandicellis, telling them that the boss was feeling upset and needed to sleep.

Knowing his history the family had accepted this and once they found the body, they had assumed that Marco Pandicelli had committed suicide.

Now, someone had informed them otherwise, and if the autopsy report showed murder - well then this would cause a mass mob war which would likely affect three different cities in three different countries.

"Here's the tomb". Louie said. His sudden declaration startled Tony and he yelped. "Oh don't be such a fucking baby," Louie sneered, "Start digging."

Tony gave Louie a long stare, and started to dig into the grave, the wet ground coming up easily on his spade.

If there had been more light, a shadow would have overwhelmed him as Louie raised his spade. Before Tony could do anything about it, the spade came down hard on his skull, fracturing his hairline. He fell to the ground, mud painting his clothes.

It started to rain as Louie again raised the spade and brought it down on his head. And again. And again. Tony's skull imploded, blood flowing from the wound, as well as his ears and nose, mixing with the soil and mud below him.

Rain poured more heavily as Louie bent over and turned over Tony's bulky frame. Tony was still alive, but his eyes were distant. He tried to speak, but his words came out as nothing more than a slurred mumble, the blood welling up in his brain preventing him from forming comprehensible words.

The mist had cleared and the moon now shone heavily on the graveyard. Louie reached into his coat and brought out his gun. He aimed it at Tony's exposed forehead, his hat discarded on the ground.

"Boss says hello" he said, and pulled the trigger. The silencer removed most of the gunshot and on impact Tony's body jolted and then lay still.

Louie put his gun away picked up Tony's feet. He dragged the body with difficulty six feet across to an empty patch of grass. He then returned to the spades and began to dig.

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