by S. W. Frank
“Thank you.”
The nurse smiled. Signora Dichenzo was a cooperative patient. “I will return shortly.”
Nicole climbed out of bed. She put on her robe and walked to the door.
“Excuse me,” she said to the guard standing outside her room. “May I use your phone? I need to contact my husband and remind him to bring a set of clothes.”
He acquiesced and she smiled politely and stepped inside the room, letting him know she’d return it shortly.
Nicole did a quick on-line search for the International Crime Task Force.
She had strolled to the window as she placed the call and waited for the automated selection to complete its series of options before pushing zero for an operator.
“ICTF, how may I direct your call please?”
“I’m an American married and living in Sicily. It’s urgent I speak with an agent in the organized crime unit.”
“Hold please and I will connect you to someone that can assist you.”
Nicole waited. The nurse entered with the magazines. Nicole quickly disconnected.
“The dutturi requested you rest and avoid stress,” the Nurse said, after placing the items on the side. “Where did you get the phone Signora Dichenzo?”
Nicole started forward to the door. “The guard allowed me to use it to call my husband. I need more clothes.”
The Nurse blocked her exit, taking the cell from he hands with a smile. “I will return the cell to the guard. Go, rest.”
Nicole controlled the panic. Giuseppe had made her a prisoner, hadn’t he?
The Nurse exited. Nicole hurried to the door and tried the handle. The Nurse had locked her in. She stretched to look out the small window to see the woman speaking to the guard before they walked along the corridor and disappeared around a corner.
11
Viola motioned Tomasso into the janitor’s storage room and discreetly locked the door. He grinned, hoping the cute nurse might show him skin. Of course, he’d settle for a kiss and groping, as well.
“I am not to leave my post,” he reiterated.
She held up his phone. At least he believed it was, due to the crack on the upper left corner.
“Did you allow the Don’s wife to use your cellular?”
“Sí. She wished to phone her husband.” He stepped close to Viola. “Your figure is fantastico.”
“Oh.” She smiled, taken aback by the inappropriate declaration during her interrogation. His eyes were on her breasts. Tomasso was attractive in a rugged sort of way and extremely inept. She wondered if his penis was as big as his ego. She unbuttoned her uniform, straight to the hem and gave Tomasso a visual of her lace-covered tits.
“Do you like?” she asked the babbu.
He unzipped his trousers; confident he’d score with the sexy nurse. “Sí –very much donna.”
She placed his cell on a nearby shelf, her smile widening because Tomasso was indeed well endowed. He seized her waist, kissed her brazenly and used a hand to lower her panty from the crotch, muttering sweet things that made her body want him very much.
She caressed his erection, praising his dick, wishing he’d been intelligent. Smart men are sexy, however, a simpleton with an impressive physique she toyed with.
Tomasso’s rough hands chafed her skin but she liked their bold exploration pushing upward to make her cum.
The urgent pace in which he lowered her to the floor, scrambling to get his trousers over his shoes before plunging into her was such a delicious rush she thrust forward to meet his thighs with her pelvis bone.
Yes, Tomasso was good in pussy but inadequate as security. She encouraged him to fuck her hard, and he sweat while pumping, tonguing her ferociously, stretching his limbs to put more force into his movements.
Viola’s legs lifted around his waist. She gripped his neck, kissing him with genuine lustful regret before locking her hands, flexing her arms and crushing his trachea.
His body convulsed and she felt the vibration inside. Then his weight pressed her down. She experienced a series of orgasms. She panted breathlessly as she rolled him over and retracted from the phallus of a corpse.
Sophie handpicked the staff at the Alberti Luca facility.
Employees must adhere to strict policies.
Sophie explicitly instructed Viola to maintain protocol.
There are female Protezione.
However, there is no place in the Giacanti regime for screw-ups!
12
Between ocular slits, the plainly dressed man stopped to light a cigarette as he watched the activity around the building as the sunset.
Smoking had been cool, edgy and even sexy. Today the legal pastime was as heinous as murder judging by some people’s stares.
The mug of a passer-by brandished a disapproving frown. Certainly, his tobacco smoke wasn’t as lethal as the exhaust fumes of airborne pollutants; the chemicals in foods and toxic pesticides people ingested every day, was it?
“What the fuck you looking at?” he asked the man that glared contemptuously because he had to walk around a smoker exercising his rights in the center of the sidewalk.
The frightened bird continued up the walk, thinking him mad, and he was –mad as hell that he couldn’t enjoy a legal smoke without the self-appointed tobacco police in his business.
Cars slowly rolled to a halt only feet from where he stood. They rolled and halt again, honking, chaos due to construction that became a part of the commuting routine. A family that dined in luxury halfway across the world would never miss a jewel.
They had too much.
He had observed the woman for days, knew her habits, and perversions. Like the rest of the birds, she’d given in to the harassment and guiltily snuck out at night for a smoke. He’d laughed at the extreme measure of pretense she employed to cover the deed. She’d go to the kitchen, thoroughly wash her hands, and then hit the bathroom to gargle before climbing in bed beside her husband.
He watched the janitor of the museum, as well, another, sycophant smiling at his superiors and scowling at his wife.
These people, he thought, live unhappy lives, performing rote tasks for a salary when in their midst were millions in diamonds, perhaps billions, considering they were antiques belonging to a royal woman named Semira.
He snarled.
This evening, he planned to upset their monotonous routine.
He tossed the cigarette in the gutter, just as a sour-faced woman passed, waving at the thin cloud of tobacco smoke with a grumble from wrinkled lips as if she was being attacked by killer bees. “Damn smokers!”
“Damn jokers!” He quipped, getting a kick out of her doublewide trunk that rapidly bounced as she waddled on stubby legs. “The fat’s going to give you a heart attack. Worry about that, dumbass!” Then he zippered his jacket, hurried across the street and joined the attendees climbing the stairs to the museum.
Behind the novelty store shades, he surveyed the lobby of the museum, checking for anything he may have missed in his previous visits. Nothing had changed. The same inattentive guard chatted in Spanish and the same clerk with a hideous mole took donations.
The cameras were streaming old video.
He was set.
Screw up?
The next time someone called him that, he’d have the satisfaction of simply smirking. A screw up wasn’t capable of a do
ing a major jewelry heist –singlehandedly.
13
“I became worried when I didn’t hear from you.”
“Yeah, lo siento. I had a mishap that’s put me out of commission for a minute, but I gave you my word and as soon as I’m on my feet, we’ll have that press conference. Until then, nothing leaks to the press, all right chica?”
“It’s strictly confidential until you give the go ahead. Seriously, I’m still shocked you thought of this museum.”
“I don’t forget my peeps.”
“Yeah, but it’s been… geez… how long ago since college?”
“Seems forever, but I remember the sexy Latina talking my head off about the Renaissance masters and impressionists. You gave me an appreciation of fine art mami. I haven’t forgotten the lessons.”
Marisól blushed. Geez, many years had passed, yet she still had those excited butterflies. She was a senior when Alfonzo arrived at Columbia. She recalled seeing this fine dude jogging up the steps of the Butler Library late one evening. She’d gone there to study and went outside for a smoke break.
He’d glanced in her direction, winked and then went on his way. Several days later, she’d seen him strolling along College Walk, chatting on his cell. He noticed her, ended his conversation and intercepted her with an unusual pick-up line.
“Where’d you buy that sweater? My mom’s birthday is coming up and I want to get her something nice and classy.”
From then on, she had a crush on the freshman. But, other girls did as well. Back in the day Alfonzo prided himself on being the non-committal type. In other words, Alfonzo Diaz was a –player.
However, that is also the coming of age period that some adults haven’t outgrown.
Those were fun and heartbreaking days. Today, she was a married woman with a kid entering college. Fantasizing about an old fling wasn’t productive or professional behavior. Besides, from everything she heard, Alfonzo was happily married with four children.
“We haven’t had anything this important come through the museum in a long time. I expect the exhibition to draw visitors uptown for a change.”
“That’s what’s up. I look forward to the event.”
“It’s nice you’ve haven’t forgotten your roots.” The curator stated.
“Nah, that won’t happen. I live in this skin. “
Marisól exited her office, locked the door and peered along the hall at the rolling garbage can. The large bin signified the night janitor’s arrival. She didn’t require a clock to discern the time. Hugh –that was the janitor’s name, epitomized punctuality. Frankly, she believed he craved the quiet work environment over home. She’d met his loudmouth wife at a Christmas function last year and she pitied the affable man.
She dropped her key in her purse as she moved swiftly past other locked offices. The lights were always lowered at night, which protected the valuable paintings and fragile documents from overexposure.
“How’s your wife and kids?” she asked.
“Bien y tú familia?”
“Bien. My son’s eighteen now.”
“Damn, yeah I recall you got hitched before I could propose, that aint right chica.” He teased.
“You have not changed. Does your wife know you’re a flirt?”
“She knows mami, but she has nothing to worry about. I’m happily wed.”
“Good!”
He chuckled. “I’ll give you the heads up when it’s time to notify the press. Until then I trust you’ll to keep everything on the down low, right?”
“Of course Alfonzo.”
“Good. I’ll be talking to you soon. By the way, tell that hubby of yours if he wants a job I can hook him up so he won’t live off his woman.”
She stopped near the trash bin right before the door to the conference room. A Van Halen song emanated and she wrinkled her nose at the smell of strong disinfectant.
“Okay Al, you’re treading on sacred ground. Ruiz and I are fine. Besides, he’s not living off me. He was pink slipped. This is the part of marriage where the vows are tested, tú sabé?”
“All right Marisol, I’m stepping back from your sacred ground.”
“Good, ‘cause you don’t want to bring out the old Marisól.”
A husky laugh preceded his reply, “Nah, all right, I’ll talk to you soon.”
“All right, papí.” She grinned; Alfonzo went from zero to sixty when something pissed him off real fast. “You take care and get well. Adios Loco!”
When she disconnected, she shook her head. It’s true, someone as fine as Alfonzo Diaz had to have a fault or he’d be perfect, she supposed.
She put her cell away and shouted, “Hugh, I’m leaving. Have a great night!”
When he didn’t answer, she peered in the room.
An arm extended from behind the door and the figure that stepped into view sneered. “Scream and I’ll put a bullet in your head.”
Marisól gasped. The man in the janitorial outfit and cap wasn’t Hugh.
“You’re going to take me to the collection. If everything goes smoothly, you’ll make it home.”
“We have a lot of collections, which one?”
“The diamond bracelet and necklace belonging to the African Princess.”
Marisól squinted. She hadn’t told anyone about the rare items –except…she frowned. “It’s been moved to a vault.”
The man grinned. “No. It’s here. I know for a fact it is.”
“You don’t understand,” Marisól began, hoping the security guard was making her way to inspect the administrative offices. She attempted to stall. “Those items are priceless and the owner isn’t anybody you want to steal from.”
The man scoffed. “Your little rent-a-cop is sleeping under her desk in case you’re wondering.” Then he struck her and she slipped, falling into the door. “Another thing, the person you should fear is me. Now get your ass up and do as I say!”
Marisól scrambled to her feet with her purse. “Okay, okay.”
He shoved the barrel against her spine, pushed forward and warned her not to try any heroics. She prayed if anything happened to her that Alfonzo caught the bastard.
“Unlock the door!” The thief ordered when she wasn’t moving inhumanly faster.
The door clicked open. They entered a closet that held a vault.
She turned then and said, “He’s going to come with an arsenal. You fucked up.”
She met a cold stare. “Your threats don’t scare me bitch!”
“It should.”
He gripped her neck, sticking the gun to her face. “Open the safe!”
“Fuck you pendejo!”
Her head jerked back before he slammed her face into the steel door, leaving a bloody nose print. Her tooth chipped, and she gagged on the broken piece.
“Open the fucking door!”
The stinging pain wasn’t as horrible as the realization she wouldn’t see her son graduate or be there in the morning to cook his favorite breakfast.
She put her palm on the microwave size door. A light came on and she had five seconds to input the code. She took six, on purpose and the light faded.
The punch to her cheek sent her flying into hangars and a rolling suitcase she used to transport heavy items.
The enraged gunman yanked her back in front of the safe. “You have three seconds to open it.”
Marisól didn’t flinch. She refused to betray Alfonzo. The man with the gun planned to kill her, why give him anything before death but a hard time.
“Go to hell puta!” she said and then spit a glob of blood in his face.
The gunman snarled, raised his weapon and squeezed the trigger several times.
He failed
to open the safe. It was bolted to the wall.
The curator screwed everything up.
14
A violin wailed mercilessly.
Sharp piano notes chased a flute’s whistle.
The orchestral sounds cut a sleeping patient’s brain open.
The sounds were within the sterile walls of neutrality. Where Alfonzo hailed, violence laid a street person on the concrete and medical facilities symbolized three things: birth, sickness and death.
Alfonzo’s cheek rested on the pillow. He searched for complete quiet, and found none. He considered jumping out of bed and knocking Nico to the floor. A crazed man in a homeless shelter might have done it, but he wouldn’t since Nico had received a bullet attempting to rescue him from a metal box.
An eyebrow inclined as beeps from machinery threatened to screech and Nico’s endless selection of musical nausea dilated his irises.
Initially, Nico’s song preference hadn’t annoyed him. He’d been too beat up to care. However, when the meds and exhaustion wore off, the continuous whining strings threatened to snap a man.
Alfonzo’s nostrils flared as he inhaled floral and fruit scents. The aroma camouflaged disinfectant odors, but couldn’t hide the medical facility’s sterile furnishings.
Then Ave Maria resounded and Alfonzo stilled to reflect.
‘Ave Maria, gratia plena,
Maria, gratia plena,
Ave, ave dominus…’
Alfonzo sighed. Do or die, still to this day, Nico was willing to go to a watery grave with Alfonzo. He could never articulate the tether to Nico –bastard or not, he knew deep in his heart Nico loved the family.
“Sheesh, poor Anna.” Alfonzo mumbled under his breath while picturing her execution.
He tired of the killings –for real.
Then his eyes fluttered, thinking of how Vin’s son, Lorenzo saved his ass and the shocker that Sergio was Nico’s child –double damn.
Man, oh man, he foresaw upcoming drama. Nothing topped his mom poisoning Bruno. She violated her religious beliefs to commit murder. He was pissed she hadn’t let him handle the scum; ah he would have made him suffer for hitting his mom and going after Nico.
