"Rosa, come on! Take Graziella out of here, will you do that?"
She nodded, her eyes flicking around the room and back to Luka.
Graziella led her out of the room. "You come with Grandma, Rosa, there's a good girl." The old lady was shaking with fear.
Luka took his gun from Sophia and stuffed it into his belt. Sophia reached for Teresa's hand.
Tears streamed down Teresa's face, and she was saying over and over again, "I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do. ..."
Luka snapped at her, "Well, we had better start thinking. Sophia, get some water, bandages, old sheets, anything, These two are bleeding all over the carpet."
Sophia held Teresa, and they both looked at Luka. Teresa's voice was little more than a whisper. "Oh, God, what are we going to do?"
Luka held up one of the documents. "They came for these. First we find out who sent them, and if you don't like what I have to do to find out, then both of you can get out."
Sophia tried to draw Teresa toward the door, but she wouldn't be moved. Luka stepped closer. "We need bandages, get anything to see to their wounds. Sophia, will you do that? I'll take care of Teresa."
Suddenly he clasped Sophia's face between his hands. "You see how much you need me, all of you need me? Now you can trust me; you have to trust me."
There was a chilling ruthlessness in the way he snapped °our instructions, as if he were enjoying their dependency.
They huddled in the kitchen, leaving him alone in the study.
They were beyond tears; they sat in mute silence, waiting. Their fear held them together, united them, until Sophia couldn't stand it another second.
"We knew this could happen. So much for Barzini protecting us; they must have been sent from Sicily. We could have this for the rest of our lives. . . . We stop it, now, stop it from going any further. We give them whatever they want. I can't take any more of this."
Luka stood at the kitchen door. Startled, frightened faces turned towards him.
"The dead man is Michele Barzini's cousin, Harry Barzini. He works for Barzini. The other two work as driver and bodyguard. They say no one else is involved except Barzini; he was trying to keep all the deeds, all the money for himself. So you can breathe easy; they didn't come from Sicily."
Teresa was up and out of the room. She ran to the study, kicked open the door. All her fear, her shock had turned to anger. She went into the study and picked up the clown's mask. Before anyone could stop her she was kicking and dragging at the clown to force him into a kneeling position beside the desk.
"You made my daughter kneel, you do it now. You kneel. . . . Kneell And tell me what Barzini told you to do to us. You tell me!"
Rosa followed her mother and saw the terrified man weeping as Teresa pulled at his hair.
The dead man had been shoved from the desk and lay facedown on the floor, his wizard's mask filled with his own blood. Rosa kicked at the bearded man. . . . His eyes rolled in his head.
Luka looked on with interest. The tables were turned; how far would the women go to get their answers, to rid themselves of their pent-up terror? But his speculation was interrupted by Graziella.
"Teresa, Rosa! Stop! Sophia and I have decided, we will go to the police. These men broke into our apartment, so we get the police. It's finished, and you, Johnny— We listen to you, take orders from you, but enough is enough—"
Teresa's face was red with fury. "No, Mama, no! We go to the police and we lose everything."
"There is nothing else to lose, Teresa. We cannot fight these people; they are animals. And look at you, you behave like an animal; you make your daughter behave like one. I say enough."
Teresa clenched her fists. "You don't have the right to do that, Mama!"
Sophia came into the room. "She has every right. This has gone far enough. I want no part of it."
"You never did, Sophia. You have been against everything I have tried to do from the beginning."
"Now you see why! Look, Teresa, look at this room. There's blood on the walls, on our clothes, over your daughter's face! For God's sake, Teresa, face reality. This time we were lucky, but what happens next time? What happens when Johnny is not around?"
Luka tried to reach out to her. "I'll always be around."
Sophia pushed his hand away. "Stay out of this, Johnny, or so help me God, I'll tell them the truth about you. You go, get out, go away from us!"
"I just saved your life! Is this the thanks I get? You think they would have taken the deeds and just pissed off?"
Teresa was trembling with anger. "Listen to me, Sophia, just listen. If Barzini has the money—"
Luka nodded. "He's got it. Sophia, Barzini has the bank draft to pay you off. He got greedy; his gamble didn't come off, but he's on his own. No one else is in on this."
Sophia turned on Teresa. "You think you can trust what these men say, what Johnny says? Can't you see what is happening to us? Look at us now, standing here in this room, men tied up, one dead . . . and we are arguingl It's madness!"
Luka ripped the gag from Barzini's driver's mouth, gripped him by the hair, and yanked his head up. "Tell them!"
The man stuttered with fear, his eyes on Luka. "Peter Salerno got the bank draft, I swear on my life. He gave it to Barzini. I heard them saying it was to pay you off. I swear . . . Oh, Jesus Christ, I swear on my kid's life, I am telling you the truth! Barzini's got the dough; he was just trying it on—"
Luka looked at Sophia. She turned away. He jerked the man's head up again. "Tell them what Barzini told you to do."
The man started to cry. "He said you wouldn't cause trouble. We was to scare you, just frighten you off so you wouldn't talk, make it look like a breakin."
Luka pulled again. Tufts of the man's hair were coming away in his fingers. "What else?"
"He said Luciano was scum, he acted as a witness, so anything we did to his women would be okay, no one would help them."
Luka shoved him away in disgust and looked at Sophia. "Barzini thinks he's in the clear, he's alone in the apartment." He kicked the man at his feet. "He's alone, yeah? Yeah?" The man nodded and rolled back in agony.
Getting no response from Sophia, Luka turned to Graziella. "We can get straight to him, walk right up to his door. Borrow these punk masks, so if he looks through his peephole, he thinks he's seeing his friends."
Graziella shook her head. "We Lucianos will decide what to do. Johnny, you stay with the men. . . ."
They sat together in the kitchen as Teresa pressed for a confrontation with Barzini.
"We can get the layout of the entire apartment, if necessary, and if Barzini is alone, why not? We wear the masks, like Johnny suggested, to get in. Sophia, please ... At least talk to Barzini, give him the chance to hand over the money. I think we should take Johnny with us."
Sophia shook her head. "No, if we do this, it's just us, with one of those men's guns—for our own protection. Nothing else, Teresa, understand? And if we have trouble, we get out, and for good, agreed?"
For a moment no one spoke. Teresa pursed her lips. "It'll work. It has to. Mama, do you want to come?"
Graziella looked first at Sophia, then Rosa, and slowly nodded her head. "I will go. I want to speak to this man face-to-face! Then after, we do the right thing, what Sophia suggests."
Teresa rose from the table. "So it's all agreed, no police? Not yet anyway. I'll tell Johnny."
Luka sat kicking his heels against the edge of the desk. Teresa entered the study door and closed it behind her.
"No police, we'll go to see Barzini."
"Yeah? Just like that, huh? Well, first, what are you going to do with this guy with his head blown off? And these two, bleeding to death over your carpet? What are you going to do about cleaning this place up? The walls need washing down, carpets, desk. . . ."
Teresa nodded. "I'll get the others."
"No, wait. First let me work out what we're going to do with these guys."
"Don't they need to go to
the hospital?"
He looked at her, his head to one side. "Yeah, I'll arrange it. First we get the body out." He bent down to one of the men. "We'll get you to a hospital. You got transportation? You come in a car?"
The man nodded, his eyes popping out of his head because of the gag still stuffed in his mouth.
"Okay, they got their own transportation. Rosa, see if you can borrow that old lady's wheelchair, the one from the floor above, and I'll get the dead guy ready to leave."
"What do you want the wheelchair for?"
"He's a big man, you want to be seen carrying him? Just do what I tell you, and get a move on!"
As soon as the door closed behind her, Luka moved around the desk, heaved at the body. The wizard mask was still in place, still bloody. But the man's clothes were in disarray, his shirt open, his trousers loose. Luka smiled at the two terrified men.
"Better get him all tidied up. Don't want to upset the ladies, do we?"
The two men watched in mute, terrified silence as Luka dressed Harry Barzini's body.
The women looked at drawings of Barzini's apartment, made hy Luka from a description by one of the captives. They knew now which room was his wife's and that she went to bed early.
Rosa returned with the wheelchair. Luka had the body
ready. It was covered by a blanket, a scarf around the neck and
lower face, and one of Filippo's hats crammed on the bloody
head. Luka, Rosa, and Teresa lifted the corpse into the wheelchair.
"No one goes into the study. Stay away from the men until I come back. Teresa, check if there's anyone downstairs. Rosa, you guide from the front, I'll take the weight from behind. I'll dump him in an alley a few blocks away; we'll have to get rid of the clothes we put on him, we don't want anything traced back here. Okay, Rosa, let's go!"
Teresa went ahead to check out the stairs while Rosa and Luka heaved the dead weight into the chair. Then Rosa stood outside the apartment building and watched Luka wheel the chair down the street. It was almost six o'clock, rush hour, and people crowded the sidewalks, but Luka seemed self-assured, almost cocky. After half a block he turned back to see if Rosa had gone inside, then made a U-turn and headed back almost to the entrance of the apartment building. He wheeled the chair down the ramp into the underground garage. He passed a few residents; but there were cars reversing and parking, and no one paid him much attention.
He passed Teresa's Lincoln, then stopped by a new silver Lincoln Continental. Barzini's car.
Luka rang the bell and waited. Rosa opened the door, and he tapped her on the cheek.
"You must always ask who's at the door, Rosa! Now, go over this chair for any blood. I'll need the hat and scarf again for the next man."
Teresa was in her robe. She had put all her bloodstained clothes into a garbage bag.
"Where did you put him?"
About to go into the study, Luka paused and smiled. "Like I said, in an alley. Forget it. Come help me get this guy ready to go down to their car."
At six-forty Luka guided the bearded man down the stairs. The overcoat was draped over his shoulders to hide the fact that his hands were still bound behind his back, and he wore the hat and scarf to disguise that he was gagged. Luka spoke quietly, encouraging the man to hurry, telling him the sooner he was in the car and waiting, the sooner his friend could join him and they would be taken to the hospital. The man was in agony, limping badly, and he leaned heavily on Luka.
The man was panting, his breath hissing through his gag, when Luka finally helped him into the backseat of the Lincoln. When he was settled, Luka leaned in and smiled.
"Everything'll be okay, but I need your hat." As Luka reached for it, he fired a single shot to the man's temple, using the man's own gun and silencer. Then he propped up the body and returned for the clown. Luka draped him in the coat and scarf, put the hat on his head. The man's arm was streaming blood, it ran in rivulets down his fingers, and he sobbed in agony as he was hustled out of the apartment.
It was now seven-fifteen. Luka told the women he was taking the two men to a hospital. While he was gone, the women worked at cleaning the study, washing the walls, rolling up the stained rug. All bloodstained clothes had to be discarded, so they stuffed everything into black bags, ready for Luka to carry to the incinerator in the basement.
But four hours later Luka had still not returned. There was nothing else for them to do; even the wheelchair had been taken back. The women's nerves were at the breaking point.
Teresa paced up and down the hall. She was sure something had gone wrong. Perhaps the men had escaped. Four hours!
Sophia sipped a cup of coffee and checked her watch for the hundredth time. She had been on the point of telling them about Luka's part in Nino Fabio's death, but had not, because if Michele Barzini did have their money, they could pay Luka off and get rid of him. Then she could find her own freedom.
"It's eleven-thirty, Teresa. Barzini might have gone out. Or he could be halfway to Tokyo. Where did Johnny say he was going?"
Teresa gasped. "Oh, my God! You don't think he could have gone to Barzini's alone?"
Graziella, wearing her hat and coat, stood at her bedroom door. "What are we waiting for? Are we going to Barzini or not? I've had my coat on for an hour."
"We' re waiting for Johnny, Mama."
"Why? You said we go alone. So why don't we go?"
At that moment Luka knocked on the door and called to them to open up. He had changed into a clean shirt and jeans. he handed Teresa a black bag containing his stained clothes, together with the hat and coat they had used. He made no apology for keeping them waiting but suggested they get into
the car while he took all the bags down to the incinerator.
They were ready to leave when Luka swore. The garbage bag containing the carpet had begun to split. Teresa stayed behind to help him while the others went on down to the garage. Together they tried to stuff the bloody carpet into a spare bag Luka had brought with him.
"Johnny, we're going to need another one. They're in the kitchen, under the sink."
She tipped out the contents of the bag Luka had brought and found his shirt, drenched in blood. Her hands were covered in it. . . . She opened the bag further; his jeans and sneakers were also caked with blood. She looked up at him in horror as he came back with the fresh bag.
"What have you done? Johnny?"
"Go wash your hands. I'll take this down to the incinerator and see you at the car. Oh, I got you this: It's a simple mechanism, just withdraw the safety catch, and it's ready to fire. It's loaded, so don't mess around with it. Just put it in your purse."
She grabbed the .22 and hurried into the bathroom, leaned against the door. Her hands were stained with blood, and the gun felt slimy to the touch. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to wipe it clean, then scrubbed her hands nearly raw under the running water.
She took a last look around the apartment to make sure it was clean. Only the shattered window gave any indication of the nightmare that had taken place. She collected her purse and the gun, then locked the front door and hurried down the stairs.
As she reached the basement door, she could hear someone whistling. She paused, then crept closer, panting. . . .
It was Luka, seeming totally unconcerned. He stopped whistling when he saw her, smiled, and opened the door with a flourish. All she could think of was the bloody shirt, the stained jeans, the sneakers caked with blood. Were the murders never to end? She swayed, gulped for air, and was about to faint when Luka clasped her elbow. His fingers pinched, hurting her.
"I did what had to be done. Now straighten up, pull yourself together, okay? Okay now?"
She nodded, and he slowly released his hold. They went on into the garage.
It was eleven forty-five as they drove away from the apartment. Teresa sat up front with Luka, who was at the wheel. In the backseat sat Graziella and Sophia, with Rosa between them. They held the mask of the clown and the torn one with the
wispy beard.
Luka drove carefully, unhurriedly. Teresa could feel the outline of the gun in her bag, and slowly, gradually, the terrible feeling of panic subsided. The gun comforted her, gave her confidence.
Luka, after a sidelong glance, reached out to stroke her hand. "Okay?" he whispered, and she nodded.
"We're here." Luka pulled on the parking brake and was out before the uniformed doorman had time to step forward.
Teresa turned to the backseat. "Hide the masks under your coats. Are we ready?"
They nodded, and the passenger door swung open. Sophia stepped out first, followed by Rosa. Then Luka helped Graziella. Closing the door, he turned to Teresa. "You sure you don't want me to come with you?"
"Stay with the car!"
The four well-dressed women merged easily with the man) people thronging the reception area. They separated as the) approached the elevators.
They made it to the door of the suite without seeing any one. As Rosa pressed the buzzer, Graziella and Sophia put on the masks. Teresa, a fraction behind them because some of the wispy gray hair on her mask had caught on her handbag, jerked it free and only just had time to get the mask in place before they heard the lock on the door click.
Barzini peered through the peephole, and they could hear him swearing at them for being so fucking stupid. Then he swung the door wide. Before Teresa could even start her wel rehearsed speech, Graziella began a tirade in Sicilian.
Barzini was so startled that he stumbled backward an overturned a small Venetian urn. The floral display cascade over the floor.
Teresa moved Graziella firmly aside. "Good evening, M Barzini."
She ripped off her mask and threw it at him. Sophia clost the door and put the chain on it. Her hand was shaking :
much that twice she missed the small aperture.
Teresa watched Barzini squirm as he tried to assimilate what had happened.
Rosa cut the telephone wires and replaced the scissors in her bag. She then followed her mother and aunt into the living room.
Graziella went in the opposite direction, looking for Barzini's wife. She locked the bedroom door from the outside, then returned to the living room and held up the key.
BELLA MAFIA Page 45
