Aftermath

by S. W. Frank

  Darren opted out of coming. He was recuperating, plus he had some pretty nasty bruises on his face. They were ugly and might scare the girls away. He pumped fists with Sal as Evie, ‘humphed’ haughtily then led the way.

  Getting around the guards was easy, her and Maddy did it a lot. Getting the car through the back gates was the challenge, but she figured it out when she saw her brother leaving. All they had to do was get to the car.

   

   

  ****

   

   

  Alfonzo leaned on the interior door panel when Nico entered the car. “What’s the long face about, are we still on?” he asked the stone-face enforcer when he slid in the backseat and sandwiched Giuseppe in the middle.

  “Nothing, we’re good to go.”

  “He did not get pussy from Ariana. I had pussy and I know Selange took care of you, right cugino?” Giuseppe said, nudging Alfonzo in the side, “but Nico has been left out in the cold.”

  Nico sneered, showing his canines like an angry dog. Tension exuded from him and Alfonzo surmised Ari’s rejection, the loss of Alberti and Geo’s incessant pokes were setting the man on edge. Alfonzo experienced empathy for Nico and the emotional distance shortened. Nico would not exhibit his pain, but beneath the rugged exterior, Alfonzo recognized a desolate man. He’d been there, of course he could understand.

  “Pipe down Geo.” Alfonzo cautioned. Nico was on the precipice and one push of the magic button and all hell would break loose. Except, Giuseppe never listened, he was an antagonist and lacked the ability to truly read a person.

  Giuseppe laughed. “Eh, to hell with Nico!”

  The car rolled away from the guarded estate, protected in front and rear by two large SUV’s full of men. Alfonzo gave Giuseppe a stern glance then went silent. He’d said enough, he would not say anymore when Nico popped him. They had a Russian to deal with and that took precedence over Nico and Giuseppe’s personal problems.

  “After this job you two, you need to keep the hands clean, capisce?” Nico voiced.

  Alfonzo had already come to this conclusion and agreed.

  “I send no one to deal with a personal offense against me, do you capisce?” Giuseppe countered.

  “Then find yourself in a daily fight,” Nico answered, “because there’ll be many more offenses coming your way, you hot-headed brat!”

  “My father never sent a flunky to settle a personal score.”

  “And he’s dead,” Nico said matter-of-factly.

  Alfonzo scoot close to the door.

  Yeah, here it comes!

  And as Alfonzo anticipated, fists went flying. Giuseppe threw the first blow, however Nico caught it mid-air and side-butt the hell out of Geo’s jaw like a powerful bull and blood tinged spittle struck Alfonzo’s cheek.

  “¡Coño!” Alfonzo exclaimed just as Lou careened to the side of the road near a low barrier and they both leaped out the car. Alfonzo waved Lou back. “Let them alone Lou. Fuck it, let them fight!” Then he wiped the spit from his face and kicked the door closed. “Motherfucking lunatics!”

  The lead vehicle’s break lights flashed, and then the car reversed simultaneously along with the trailing SUV and skid to a halt. The men were out of their cars with guns drawn and rushing over to see what the emergency was.

  Alfonzo put up his hand, halting the guys. “Nobody intervene. It’s a family fight!” He leaned against the rocking car door and calmly spoke to Lou. “How much time do we have before the cargo plane takes off without us?”

  “A little over an hour boss.” The perturbed Capodecima answered.

  “We have plenty of time.”

  Alfonzo paced. Those two had some deep rooted issues. It’d been boiling over for a long time. In the streets, sometimes a good fist-fight was the only way to settle things. So, he removed himself and let the men go at it.

  The loud noises emanating from the interior was proof the pair was engaged in a nasty brawl. It didn’t take long before the fight spilled outside. Alfonzo didn’t care to watch, he wasn’t in the mood. They’d given him a headache and to think he left a warm bed with a hot woman for bull-shit. He claimed the empty driver’s seat and pushed a button to turn on the console. The thing lit up like a cockpit and he settled in and gave a voice command, “Opera.”

  Orchestral music cut through the air and he grimaced. His skull connected with the headrest and he closed his eyes to mentally block out the fight. He was battle weary and preferred not to observe the god of death against the god of war. In his summation they were kin and equally destructive.

  The male tenor cried as loud as the violin and drowned out the cousin’s shouts.

  “You sonovabitch, you care about no one!” Giuseppe’s voice boomed and a punch collided with Nico’s chest.

  Nico moved backward, not by the force of the blow but to gain emotional distance.

  “Since we were young, you have brought pain to me.” Another strike from his raging cousin landed and this one rattled Nico’s jaw.

  Enraged, Giuseppe boxed the murderous bastard for speaking ill of the dead and unleashing his sorrow. To think Nico was the favored and given an honor many would have gladly died to uphold, yet he trampled it to dust and with it Giuseppe’s trust.

  Giuseppe’s knuckles bled after his fist impacted with teeth. Nico considered blocking; instead he allowed the hit to give Giuseppe the satisfaction he sought. There was raw pain written on Giuseppe’s face and he lashed out.

  Another pound from Giuseppe split the corner of Nico’s mouth and the taste of blood in his throat was refreshing. He wanted pain, he needed it, it was far better than being numb. He’d done his damage to the youth, now he welcomed the consequences from the grown man. The will to fight Giuseppe fled, replaced by guilt. 

  Giuseppe grabbed him in a choke-hold and Nico grunt. Giuseppe’s mountainous biceps expanded to form hills and flexed hard on Nico’s throat. In his fury, he wasn’t seeing his cousin but the man his family loved. The man his mother believed was good beneath his murderous ways and she was wrong. They all were. Nico murdered for sport and became an apparition of the man he once sought to imitate as a boy. Yes, he actually idolized Nico, believing as they all did he was the most loyal and unstoppable of the family, a guardian, their sword against whatever troubles were to come. Even his father loved the violent man like a son. When Nico betrayed the family he became an affront. The resentment widened. Nico was void of a soul and a killing whore. He was an enforcer without honor and should be slaughtered like a dog!

  They were at the edge of the railing which overlooked a steep bluff. Giuseppe became fueled with such hate he flipped Nico’s solid body over the rail and his arm hooked around the neck like a noose. He wanted Nico to experience fear, pain, hopelessness and all the emotions many of his victims felt. Giuseppe growled like a ferocious beast, but he did not let go.

  Precipitation reflected from the rocks and the shrubs below. They were shimmering tears on a hilly landscape for what Nico had become. The despair in Giuseppe’s heart from loss peaked and he came undone.

  Tears shed in the dark for his papa poured from his soul, worsened by the loss of Alberti who stood as the last of his uncle’s and now they were alone. Nico, his wicked cousin behaved as if love for a father washes away with time. Only a heartless man would think that!

  The great enforcer had become a piteous thing and he felt no relation to him. He would never claim a cold-blooded animal like Nico as his cousin, anymore. The sonovabitch didn’t cry for his brother or display sincere repentance for any of his transgressions.

  Cold.

  Killer.

  Monster.

  Nico was not a man.

  No sound emitted from Nico. He was being choked.

  Giuseppe’s father was not an abusive man. He gave Giuseppe love and lessons in life. To kill was always Giuseppe’s choice. Ernesto taught Nico to slaughter and omitted love. “Clip a man in the manner in which he’s lived,” w
as the sentence spoken to a frightened boy. The boy became the man and remembered everything he was taught.

  Nico’s victims were faceless and his indifference was a soul shield. Today he placed it down to confront the naked truth. His eyes closed under the choking pain. He was not a victim, but a predator. That is what he became and Giuseppe was releasing him into the wild where he belonged.

  Nico wasn’t completely heartless; he did feel. The ache of rejection from Ari was real; the guilt each time he looked in Alfonzo’s face and now regret for his treatment of Giuseppe who had always only sought the love of his cousin and received only scorn.

  Nico relaxed his limbs. His legs dangled high above the bare trees and jagged rocks. The night was thick and heavy like his body. Slowly, he peered down at the hard sediment and pointy spears of foliage. From such a distance he’d become impaled or get his head cracked open. There’s no way he’d survive the drop.

  The guilt from his transgression slew his will to live. Tonight he chose the executioner and the manner of death, he accepted the punishment. He loved Giuseppe. He’d been tough on him because he was spoiled rotten. An ungrateful bully of a kid who required a firm hand, but, perhaps he’d been too hard on the kid and not affectionate enough. His sin toward his cousins, led him here and he saw no reason to fight. It’s a battle he chose to lose to Giuseppe who needed a win to gain salvation.

  Nico closed his eyes, his throat burned and staying awake became difficult. ‘Come ondo it Geo…get it over with. Exact your punishment goddammit. I deserve it…send me home release me…I’m ready.’

  “Why are you goddamn heartless cugino? My father said I can always count on you and Vincent. You were our protectors if anything ever went wrong. I looked up to you…cugino…you are my family…I wanted to do as my father said and come to you, but you betrayed our family when you took what was not yours…yet I love and hate you cugino!” The sound from the bereft man shattered the calm air, “Papa I wish you were here to see Nico the protector…why did you not wait for me…babbo…I died with you…I did not want you to die alone…I am your son…we die together…never alone.”

  Giuseppe’s wounds were deep and the wailing sound were from the depth of a loving son who missed the talks and laughs of the father he respected. The overwhelming misery caused Giuseppe to falter and despair clung to his chest like razor sharp wires and his muscles convulsed. The arm slackened and Nico began to slip.

  A musical overture resounded. It carried on the forceful gust of wind to blow across the desolate trees, wilting the weaker branches and leaving the strongest upright.

  Nico inhaled oxygen and it brought renewed life, his lungs expanded and he heard his father. It was Alberti’s voice shouting, “Nico…do not give up life…you are loved and needed…grasp hold son…fight!”

  Infused with renewed purpose Nico grabbed hold of the metal rods jutting out from the railing. He flexed his knees up and at the exact second Giuseppe’s arm gave way. His nostrils were gills from the exertion on his arms. His spine slammed hard into the metal grate foiling the drop and he howled from the pain, “Aaaahhh dammit Geo…motherfuck!”

  Giuseppe’s reaction was instant remorse, “Nico!” He shouted, when he realized what he’d done. He grappled with his cousin’s arm as he swung precariously below like an anchor on a rope.

  Nico’s massive arms powered to hold on but he was hurt and winded. Exhaustion weakened him and his legs simply hung. Veins protruded from his neck and the burning sensation branched from every part of his body even his throat. He bowed his head under the exertion to hold his body up. Maybe this was the finale, shit!

  Giuseppe bellowed for aid. His grunts were hard. Gravity tugged at him and bent him lower over the edge of the barrier, threatening to take him headfirst toward the darkness below. But, Giuseppe held-fast to his cousin and didn’t let go. He clung to Nico’s limb refusing to let him die.

  Finally, the men were there. The weight eased and they were being pulled to safety. When they got Nico onto the ledge then placed him to the ground, Giuseppe slumped to his ass panting like hell.

  Nico sprawled on his back, heaving large volumes of oxygen. The running through his chest was tympanic beatings of a racing heart. His throat, arms and fingers burned. Every muscle throbbed and his eyes were blurred from the oxygen deprivation.

  Lou waved the guys back to give them space to breathe. Their anxious expressions were signs they were inches from plunging to their deaths

  They breathed in rapid unison.

  Nico’s body felt weak and he closed his eyes. Grateful for the voice that came when he needed it most. He was sad; it took this to wake him from the blackness and to give him hope. He wanted life, yes, he wanted love.

  Nico’s throat was hot as burning coal, but he extended the olive branch to Giuseppe and croaked “I’m sorry Geo, I’m here cugino, in nome dei nostri padri lo giuro.”

  And it is these words that made the angry man’s eyes water. The tears he had not shed for so long were falling. He blinked them away and drew in a long breath. The weakness passed and the purging made him strong. Killing Nico, felt wrong. “I did not mean to drop you, but you were heavy.”

  Nico slowly flexed forward. He leaned on his palm to stand and once vertical extended his hand to Giuseppe who grasped it and leaped to his feet. “I know!”

  Giuseppe chuckled and his face transformed. He was glad he did not kill Nico. “Famiglia!”

  “Famiglia!”

  Then the men walked unsteadily to the waiting car.

  They crawled inside and fell against the battered leather interior. Opera music blared and Giuseppe kicked the back of the driver’s seat to awaken his sleeping cousin.

  Alfonzo cleared his throat then peered around the side of the seat with bloodshot eyes. They widened at the condition of his cousins. The formerly weary eyes curtained by long masculine lashes flashed in the dark, “Somos buenos…are we good now?”

  The men were amused Alfonzo actually slept.

  “Yeah,” Nico grunt.

  Their clothes were splattered with blood and ripped, hair disheveled, faces bruised and in Alfonzo’s opinion, a double sorry mess. “Are you sure because you look like shit?”

  Giuseppe smirked, “Nico almost died, cugino.”

  “The bastard dropped me off the bridge.” Nico’s hoarse voice confirmed.

  “It was an accident.”

  “Well, that’s really smart Geo. Nico has the contact info programmed in his big head.” Alfonzo sobered the pair. “Since you’ve squashed your beef, is it okay if we get going?”

  Twin nods, “Let’s go.”

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  CHAPTER FIVE

   

   

   

   

  St. Petersburg at four in the morning was desolate, considering it was the most populated city in Russia and the cultural hub for Europeans. The trio flew in on an air cargo plane and changed into the company uniforms en route, memorized their fake ID’s and sat quietly the last leg of the three hour flight.

  Nico arranged everything, from their point of entry, right down to the time allotted to get the job done. They hadn’t used any of their private aircrafts, which was smart. They were taking a risk for Giuseppe’s personal vendetta, hitting the Russian on his turf was certain to cause problems with their Baltic allies if any of them were fingered or worse –caught by the Russian police. This was strictly a personal payback, but there could be no more.

  Nico had the last word. He needed to reiterate, “We’re in mourning, supposedly home in our beds as far as the authorities are concerned. Keep the fucking hats on and those gloves, too and whatever you do, don’t fuck this up, Geo! No fingerprints, nothing stupid.” Then h
e removed a case of contact lenses from a backpack and passed each a pair of brown ones. “Put them in and keep them in until we get home, then flush them, capisce?”

  That was an hour ago. They were now in a nondescript van being driven by Nico’s contact along Michael’s Square. Alfonzo listened to the two cousins’ usual banter. Giuseppe shared his dislike of Russia and Nico sounding more like his father responded, “Because you do not like the man, do not disparage his country. Russia is a beautiful place, but like every country it has its shameful secrets. Poverty and greed.”

  “It is ugly and ostentatious.” Giuseppe snort, “And those ugly gold onion domes sitting atop buildings are horrendous.”

  “An Italian architect Bertolomeo Rastrelli designed that ugly palace.”

  Giuseppe went silent.

  “Visit during June eleventh and July second and experience the White Nights. It’s a cool experience.” Alfonzo interjected, thinking of a business trip where he got to enjoy the sights with a local client and was fascinated that during this time of year there was perpetual daylight. The inability to differentiate night from day due to the latitudinal location was truly a sight to behold. He’d heard about this natural phenomenon and being present during the occurrence was awesome. He planned to bring his family one day.

  “No grazie.” Geo waved flippantly at his cousin, “Dinners and women; women are dinner, they’re the only foods I need to live.”

  Alfonzo snickered. “Poetry from the mouth of an unromantic.”

  The van rolled to a halt in front of a stretch of multi-story townhouses on Mikhailoskaya Street. The driver pointed to a number above one of the doors. “That’s the place, number ten. It’s unlocked and Fedrik is sleeping on the third floor, second door to the right.” He said in passable English.

  Nico pat the driver’s shoulder, “Thanks. Disappear for thirty minutes then come back, understand?”

  The driver nodded, “There are guards on each floor, but they will remain sleeping.” He winked, “Very strong sleeping pills. The cameras are disabled, it is ready.”