by S. W. Frank
Alfonzo’s eyes settled on darker orbitals of glass as he addressed his cousin, former bodyguard and friend. “Giuseppe, how’s he?”
“He’s in critical condition.”
Alfonzo blew hard, and then took another step. Invisible knives tore and scraped his ribcage which resulted in a gentle intake of air. He couldn’t lose his brother. Giuseppe had to live. Alfonzo had become too accustomed to the wisecracks and arrogance. Alfonzo began to feel light-headed and leaned against the wall. Nico urged him back to bed, but he refused. Alfonzo’s chin dropped to his chest and he said a silent prayer for his big brother. More time was the nature of his request. Carlo needed his father and Alfonzo didn’t want to bury anyone else he loved. “Make sure Giuseppe gets the best…do you hear me, primo?”
“It’s already done cugino,” Nico said and placed a gentle hand on Alfonzo’s shoulder in solidarity. The weight of events was bowing the younger man over. The snot-nosed kid from NYC did well –damn good in Nico’s opinion considering the odds stacked against him. “Alfonzo, don’t worry. I’ll handle things while you gain your strength. I’m here giovani cugino.”
“I know Nico, that’s the one damn thing I do know,” Alfonzo replied before asking, “How many did we lose?”
“Nine are dead, one critical; four are stable, including Estefan.”
Alfonzo’s shoulders moved, but his head did not. He was exhausted. He would never forget Estefan’s heroism. The bodyguard actually used his body to protect the women. He could still see them and his heart jumped in agony at the sight of his wife running blood. The music of doom, with a river to cross had him sobbing internally. During the gunfire, he actually believed he lost. The fight wasn’t over though; there were victims and their families which required he remain strong.
Oh father, heal my mind and body so that I may go on.
He managed to lift his heavy head, a major feat when the soul’s oppressed. “What about the attackers, do we know who sent them?”
“They’re all dead and none had I.D.”
The swirling mist started to dissipate from Alfonzo’s brain. “I want the bastards who did this.”
“I’ll get them…you can count it.”
There was an intense volcanic eruption in the blue eyes. Alfonzo’s lip curled and he sneered. “You don’t understand primo. I want the pleasure of skinning the person responsible like meat. I want to watch him bleed out, comprende?”
Nico nodded. He wanted to tell Alfonzo about Sabrina and what he discovered at that address, but held his tongue. This was not the right time. Noises caused Nico to glance down the hall. A shift change took place. No one was allowed near the patients without a guard present. The entire ward was under the control of the mafia. They could not trust anyone and the polizei was helpless in the matter, after-all many were on Giuseppe’s payroll. Nico signaled a soldati and he traipsed to the nurse’s station. The names and identification of employees must match those in the database which he copied and distributed to the men. New hires or those not on the list would be forcibly removed.
The men guarding the Giacanti family were the elite. They were familiar with security procedures and could spot infiltrators. Nico personally trained them. During his brief absence he wanted to make certain his family had the best protection. He gave Alfonzo his full attention. “Okay…anything you want.”
Alfonzo’s shoulders relaxed. “Send monetary aid to the deceased families, anything they need, let them know I will provide.”
“Of course. I have already sent an emissary.”
“Bueno. Mucho gracias.”
“It is nothing.”
“Did Ari have the baby?” Alfonzo inquired.
“Yes, we had a girl.”
“Congrats.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s my little cousin’s name?”
“Semira.”
Alfonzo gave a lackluster grin. Another celebratory event was overshadowed by tragedy. “I like it.” Then he palmed his chest and propelled off the wall. He rested long enough. An irritable grumble escaped his throat. Alfonzo's body wasn’t following commands and his legs were unsteady. Nico hovered too damn close and he felt like an invalid. “Nico give me some space, damn, soy bueno.”
Nico never listened. “No-can-do.”
Before Alfonzo touched the doorknob, Nico quickly did the honors. Alfonzo figured he must look fucked up because Nico behaved as if he were incapable of even the smallest tasks. Alfonzo turned his neck and aw hell, his skin stung from a swarm of invisible bees burrowing into nerve endings.
Mierda ... mierda … maldito calor!
The string of silent obscenities never reached Nico’s ears. Instead, Alfonzo covered by hissing. “I don’t need a babysitter. Get the fuck out of here and visit your newborn or something!”
“I’m waiting right here until your visits over and then I’ll leave after I’ve tucked you in bed. Capire, è toro testardo!”
Alfonzo snarled but chose not to debate with the bigger guy. Nico behaved worse than a nurse. Not many people got close enough to Nico to observe his mannerisms, Alfonzo had. There were tell-tale signs Nico worried about Alfonzo’s health, such as the descending eyebrows and softening of the hard eyes. Alfonzo wanted to say something kind, but he couldn’t. They were blood, tied and bound, yet the relationship they once shared had frayed around the edges. Cordial and businesslike worked best. He just couldn’t forget…his cousin….mentor and yes friend had skewered his heart. Remembering the good deeds and years of dogged loyalty is what allowed Alfonzo to forgive. Nico’s repentance also helped Alfonzo to gradually heal. Perhaps one day he’d consider Nico a friend, but a friend is someone Alfonzo had to completely trust. There were many things he trusted Nico with, and Selange wasn’t one of them.
The door shut behind Alfonzo and he walked slowly to the woman in the bulky bed. The cheek exposed to the unflattering light boasted an angry red scrape from ear to mouth. He had to collect himself or he’d lose it. Mierda, his fists balled tight. He wanted to smash and destroy everything in sight. He reeled in the anger before he took it out on somebody and he didn’t want to do that. His breathing regulated and he controlled the intake and expulsion as he walked at a slow pace. When he reached the side of Selange’s bed and looked at her, he choked on sadness. Alfonzo tenderly caressed her chin. His words were as gentle as his eyes. “Are you still down with me, babe?”
Selange’s eyes opened. One was saturated with a strawberry color, hiding the hazel iris which often sparkled with light. At the sight of her injuries, Alfonzo inhaled the anger…sucked it in really hard until his chest expanded and burned.
Tranquilo…you must stay strong for her…oh geez help me padre! His mind wailed.
Selange sighed weakly. Vision was not required to see Alfonzo’s distress. “Honey don’t worry… the doctor said I’ll be okay…please don’t tear yourself up…you’re not to blame.”
Alfonzo rubbed his eyeballs; fatigue zapped his spirit. “Babe, you don’t have to do this anymore. I’m hurting you…” His knees bent and his glossy hair bowed to the railing in despair. He didn’t want her to see his tears. Man, he felt tired; emotionally beat.
Selange stroked his arm. “Ssssssshhhh, take my love, let it give you strength. Use it to defend our family and don’t let anyone knock down what we built tú sabe?”
He clutched her hand tightly. His desolate soul required light and she fueled his downtrodden spirit. He’d come to give comfort and instead received nourishment. Pissed for breaking down in front of her, he collected himself and rose tall. “Lo siento esposa.”
“Don’t apologize for having emotions. I’m here for you to lean on. I won’t break.”
Alfonzo stroked her hand, remembering he’d shared a similar sentiment. Ah, the pain began to lift. Funny, how the mind works, isn’t it? “Te amo, no hay duda al respecto.”
Selange’s eyes began to close. “Te quiero más.” And after the declarat
ion she slumbered.
Gratitude held Alfonzo immobile as he watched her breathe. Exhaustion began to claim his body and he leaned toward her. He winced as he pressed his forehead to hers. “I’ll make whoever did this pay…I swear esposa.” A thumb caressed her temple. The black lashes were feathers fanning her creamy brown skin. His family was everything and someone attempted to shred them to human pieces. He thought of his children. He saved their mom, yes; mom and dad were still here. Giuseppe however fought for life on what should be a celebratory hang-over. The soreness to his ribcage was a reminder to never show mercy, such an attribute was for a priest, which he’d never be!
CHAPTER TWO
Bad news travels fast. Even across the sea, those who knew the Diaz family began to learn of the tragedy via calls and TV. Shanda’s parents had finished dinner and Mrs. Johnson had taken the dishes to the kitchen, when her husband received a frantic call from their daughter Shanda. “Are you alright girl?” a concerned father asked his baby.
Shanda’s voice trembled and he could hear the distress in every syllable. “There were bullets everywhere…my baby was right in the middle of the shooting.”
“Is the baby okay?” Mr. Johnson inquired as he stood, hurried to the kitchen and put the phone on speaker for his wife to listen. “We’re coming to bring you home…where are you?”
Shanda gave him the information as Mrs. Johnson rushed to gather their things as her husband calmed their frightened child. No matter what, she was their daughter and if she asked for help they’d be there. “Mom and I are on the way. We’ll call when we land. Hold tight honey…don’t worry daddy’s coming.”
Mr. Johnson disconnected and in frustration punched the palm of his hand. He warned his daughter something like this might happen if she continued to hang around Selange and that bastard husband. The damn girl was hard-headed and went and got knocked-up by some mobster. Shanda had mimicked her friend, and currently found herself in the center of trouble. Criminals don’t have honor. They steal and ignore the law and use guns to solve problems. Eventually, they wound up in jail or dead. Exasperated, Mr. Johnson shook his head. Shanda’s association with those people destroyed his career.
Internal Affairs dangled him over the coals. Meanwhile, the Mayor and his boss distanced themselves. Thirty five years on the force without a blemish on his record, until that sonovabitch Alfonzo set him up. They found phone records and even mentioned his visit to Puerto Rico. They insinuated he knew where his daughter was all along, which was a load of crap. The feds vouched he had assisted in their covert operation against Alfonzo Diaz and had convinced his daughter to wear a wire, however they didn’t know his little girl was involved with Giuseppe Dichenzo, the leader of the Sicilian mob. To make matters worse was the unexplained large deposit to his bank account. Alfonzo Diaz was good; he had to admit it. He covered his tracks. Not a dime was traceable. The company he used to transfer the money was a dummy corporation located in Medellin, Colombia. He also used the bank suspected of laundering money for the Colombian drug cartel.
It didn’t look good. His career was over. Nobody cared he was framed, nobody cared about the truth. He couldn’t subject his family to any further media scrutiny nor did he want to end his formerly stellar career with a prison cell as his pension. He was tainted, there would always be that question mark concerning his integrity. That’s what hurt the most.
A good cop got ousted.
A criminal had won.
Checkmate.
What could he do? He resigned and got to keep his full pension. Any illegal money in his bank accounts would become the property of the I.R.S. Of course, it wasn’t his anyway. Alfonzo Diaz was more respected than a goddamn Deputy Commissioner and also feared. The media harassment had ceased. Internal Affairs and the District Attorney closed the investigation. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to conclude, Alfonzo Diaz orchestrated his downfall. That’s what money buys these days, people without scruples.
Maybe, it was for the best, he thought as he climbed the stairs to prepare for the long flight to Italy. He couldn’t save Selange, but he could be a father and save his daughter. This was his golden opportunity and perhaps his last chance to get Shanda out of that life.
~ ~
The weatherman predicted light rain for the start of tomorrow’s workday. Nothing unusual about rain in spring; a blizzard and an earthquake, now something like that certainly might spike an interest Tony scoffed as he sipped his beer. Tiffany thumbed through another haute couture magazine, with her feet on his lap as she smiled at what was probably a pricey outfit she’d copy and make unique. He sat the empty can down on the table and reclined. He leisurely rubbed her calf, wondering how long it’d take for her to say, “Oh this is too cute. Look Tony, isn’t this me?”
It would’ve happened, except world news replaced the weather and the images brought Tony slowly forward in disbelief. A multiple shooting outside a church in Palermo on Saturday where a baptismal for a reputed mobster’s child took place captured his attention. “What the fuck?”
Tiffany put aside her magazine. “Oh my goodness Tony, this is crazy. Who guns down people at a church?”
There were multiple victims and the reporter said the death toll was certain to climb. Tony reached for his cell to call his Supervisor Matt on what only moments ago was a relaxing Sunday evening. Matt would have more information on whether his new boss was one of those fatalities. Alfonzo Diaz had gone out of his way to cut him a break and dudes like that were rare nowadays.
Matt picked up immediately. “Good evening Tony let me guess, you’re calling because you heard the news and want to know about Mr. Diaz’ condition, right?”
“So it is the boss then?”
“Yes,” Matt answered. “Don’t worry about your job. The boss hired you personally and unless you fuck up, your position is guaranteed.”
Tony frowned. He wasn’t concerned about a desk position. He’d called to find out if Mr. Diaz and his family were all right. “That’s good to know and I appreciate it, but I called to inquire whether he was one of the fatalities.”
“The hospital’s not giving out that information. I’m flying there this evening and as soon as I have more information I’ll send out a memo.” There was a pause. Matt must’ve had a thought. Since the boss hired Tony, he probably assumed they were close friends, why else would he ask, “Listen, can you make it to KTEB in the next hour?”
Tony glanced at Tiffany who watched him curiously. “What’s KTEB?”
“That’s the Teterboro Executive Airport out in Jersey. You want to come along for the ride, yes or no?”
Tony stood. “I’ll be there.”
The moment he hung up, Tiffany was on her feet. “You’ll be where?”
“I’m going to Europe with one of the company guys.”
Tony was walking toward the bedroom and Tiffany was on his heels. “What –why?”
It probably seemed crazy, which it was. He didn’t have to go –he wanted to. Sitting behind a drafting desk or in front of a computer after years away from the craft had left him rusty and uninspired. He’d gotten bored after one day and frankly, he wasn’t looking forward to Monday morning, in fact he dreaded it. Tiffany wouldn’t understand. She’d probably question his sanity. He yanked his suitcase out the closet and quickly tossed in clothes and toiletries. He rummaged in the top drawer for his passport, checked to make sure the damn thing hadn’t expired and shoved it in his back pocket. “It’s on company time, why not?”
He called a cab. They waited in the living room. Occasionally he peered through the curtains checking the street below their apartment as Tiffany leaned on a wall with her arms folded. “I hope you’re not trading in one bad habit for another. You don’t know anything about this Diaz person, except he gave you a
break. Don’t get mixed up in the other side of his business. He doesn’t need another lackey. He saw something else in you…he saw a good man with a promising future. What you do with the opportunity is solely your decision.”
Tony’s eyes caressed his lady. “I’m going.”
She exhaled sharply and nodded. “Gotcha. You made up your mind and whatever I say won’t matter.” Her mouth twisted to the side and rotated as she tried to delicately word what came next. “So many brothers get a bad rap. I get it…Tony…I do…but you were given a second chance. Lashing out at the legal system for what happened isn’t going to restore what you’ve lost. It’s this moment that matters. After Chip, I’d think you’d want to stay clear of these mob guys”
Two loud honks sounded. “The cab is here,” he said as he lifted the suitcase from the floor.
Tiffany stepped aside. “Have a safe trip.”
He sighed. “I’ll be back and hope you’re here when I do.”
Their eyes locked. “Why wouldn’t I? I’m not your ex. If I were to leave I’ll tell you to your face and then strut my ass right out the door. If I don’t hear from you by tomorrow night I’ll be on a flight to Italy to find out what’s up, you understand?”
The cab honked again. Tony planted a warm kiss on his beloved. When he pulled away his tone was soft, “I’m coming home because I love you girl –and for the record you’re nothing like my ex…you’re far better.”
~ ~
Tyree Davis reviewed the patient chart with heavy eyelids. He’d been on this fast track since undergrad, doubling up on courses and graduating with a B.S in three years instead of four and then med school. He lucked out in the Residency Match Program, and ranked high. He had an opportunity to choose from several hospitals and King’s County was more than eager to accept a Harvard Med School grad. He could have gone anywhere, written his own ticket so to speak, but he was keeping a promise. One he made the day his dad was killed and thanks to a very special lady and her husband, he was able to do that.
