The Scorpion's Tale

by Wayne Block

  Steven ignored him. “Try me,” he quipped. “Who is it and where do I find him?”

  Nick shook his head. “The Brazilians hired the best. He goes by the name of Scorpion. Nobody knows who he is. We used him a few years ago. I wasn’t directly involved in the job, but I know my family was not disappointed.”

  “Where do I find this Scorpion?”

  “I just told you dummy, nobody knows where he is,” Nick snapped. “Nobody can find him. He’s untraceable.”

  The waitress brought two more beers to the table. Nick pushed his away. “I’ve already had too many. I’ve got to drive home. Do you want me to give you a lift?”

  Steven chugged his beer and slammed the mug down, spilling on himself. “I want the information I’ve asked for.”

  “You’re drunk, Steven. I can’t take you seriously.”

  Without warning, Steven reached across the table and grabbed Nick by his shirt collar. “You can be my friend or you can be my enemy. It’s that simple. If you’re not with me, you’re against me. Make your choice!” Steven released his grip and fell back into the booth, leaving a greasy print on Nick’s shirt.

  Nick smoothed his shirt and adjusted his tie. He wasn’t going to be goaded into a fistfight with Steven. He stood up and put on his jacket. “I’ll ask around and see what I can find out. Go home and get some sleep. May Amanda forgive me for what I am about to do,” Nick said, glancing at the ceiling. He abruptly turned and walked out of the bar.

  Steven thought about what Nick had said. Of course Nick was right. Amanda would never have wanted him to avenge her death. She would have forgiven her killer and would have begged her family to forgive him, too. But this wasn’t about Amanda. It was about him. The Scorpion had taken everything from him, including his soul. There was no middle ground and no room for compromise. There were no other options for Steven. Whatever it took, wherever it led him, this was his destiny. For the first time since the murders, Steven had a reason to live, with the knowledge that his strength came from not caring if he died as long as he took the Scorpion with him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The San Remo sky was a majestic blue dotted with cotton ball clouds slowly riding on a light breeze off the Mediterranean. The beaches were packed with Italian sunbathers enjoying their last swims before returning home to begin the new school year. Forty kilometers north, following the Argentine River to its source in the Ligurian Alps, is the small village of Realdo. Perched atop a rocky spur and cradled against the sheltering mass of Mt. Saccarello, Realdo appears suddenly; an Italian version of “Brigadoon”.

  The town’s eighteenth century church was filled with mourners. In the front pew, Giovanna Milani watched the priest sprinkle holy water over three simple wooden caskets in which lay her father, Fabio, her mother, Fiorella and her younger brother, Roberto. Her great uncles, once toughened as underground resistance fighters during Mussolini’s fascist regime and later fighting the Nazis, had trembling hands and quivering lips.

  Giovanna had celebrated her twenty-eighth birthday just weeks earlier with her family. Her brother, Roberto Milani, had reserved a small seafood restaurant on the coast for eighty people. Wine flowed throughout the evening, and the family’s history was recounted through amusing stories told by the elders. Her brother spared no expense. There was a grand assortment of seafood, vegetables and breads followed by countless bottles of Limoncella. Even by Italian standards the meal was an extravaganza.

  A bittersweet smile touched Giovanna’s lips as she recalled that evening. Her smile faded as her thoughts drifted back to the tragedy. How had her brother suddenly acquired the money? Nine months earlier he begged her for a loan to buy a used scooter. Suddenly, Roberto was flashing money. He dumped the old scooter as if it was a child’s toy, repaid Giovanna and bought a brand new motorcycle. Roberto’s olive oil export business had barely managed to stay afloat. Giovanna knew Roberto paid his bills with loans from their parents. When money finally came, it came fast and furious. In her heart, Giovanna knew the money was tainted, but she lacked the nerve to confront her brother, a decision that overwhelmed her with guilt. Now Roberto and her parents, murdered in their beds, were gone forever.

  After the service, the congregation followed the procession as it escorted the coffins in wooden wagons, single file, down cobblestone streets to the graveyard, a half-mile away. Giovanna heard the words of the family priest, but her heart was closed to the message, her eyes affixed to the distant mountains, recalling happier times. All of his life, her younger brother had idolized her and she had been his protector.

  Giovanna placed roses on their graves and slowly walked back to town arm-in-arm with her aunts. She turned just in time to see Giorgio, Roberto’s best friend and their favorite cousin, approach. Giovanna asked her aunts to walk ahead. When they were out of sight, she wrapped her arms around Giorgio and buried her face in his jacket.

  “I miss them so much,” she cried, tears cascading down her face. “Who would do such an evil thing?”

  “Gia, I’m so sorry I missed the service. I tried to get back from Firenze as fast as I could, but there was an accident on the highway.”

  Giovanna placed her fingers softly on his lips. “Shhh, there is no need to explain. What is important is that you’re with me now. I need you here.”

  Giorgio held her close to him. They had always loved each other; a forbidden and exciting love both knew was morally wrong but too powerful to contain. Roberto had been very vocal in his disapproval of Giovanna’s relationship with Giorgio, which created tremendous friction. Roberto was her voice of reason and the lovers eventually ended their affair, remaining close friends.

  Giovanna led Giorgio to a bench beneath an ancient olive tree. It was a familiar place where the two now sat silently, holding hands and comforting each other. Giorgio softly caressed her head, savoring the opportunity to once again be close to her. His passion for her had never diminished.

  “We should go away.”

  Giovanna sighed, stroking her ex-lover’s hand without looking up. “We can never be together.”

  “I can still dream. We could move to Brazil and start a new life.”

  She kissed his cheek. “I love you and I always will.” Giovanna’s expression and demeanor suddenly changed and she was now serious. She reached for his hands and held them tightly. “Now it’s time for you to help me, Giorgio. I need information.”

  “Information?” Giorgio asked, looking confused. He gently touched her hips and ran his fingers over her dress, savoring the touch of her body.

  Giovanna hung her head. “Giorgio, there were no secrets between you and Roberto. You worked with him and I know his business got my family killed. I need to find the people responsible.”

  Giorgio recoiled, blood rushing to his face. “Are you crazy? You saw your family. If you hadn’t been in Portofino, there would be four caskets instead of three! Leave it be!”

  Giovanna frowned, slowly shaking her head. “You know I must do this. Tell me where I can find my brother’s business associates.”

  Giorgio waved her off and stood to walk away.

  “Giorgio!” she shouted. “Help me. Please.”

  Giorgio pointed his finger menacingly at her, his eyes narrowing. “And get you murdered so that I have your blood on my hands, too? No thank you, cousin.” He instantly regretted his choice of words.

  “Blood on your hands? Did you have something to do with this?” she asked, raising her voice. “Oh my God – tell me it isn’t true!”

  Giorgio moved quickly towards her and grabbed her shoulders. “Of course not …I mean, no, I didn’t do this, but I ....”

  “Giorgio, what have you done!” she screamed, as she backed away.

  Giorgio hung his head. “I haven’t done anything. I should have done something. I should have warned him! I knew what he was doing was dangerous. He knew it too.” He wiped his eyes with his handkerchief. “But we closed our eyes to everything except the money. Gia, we were teenagers ag
ain!” He pointed his finger into the town toward her family’s house. “It was greed that killed your family.”

  Giovanna calmed herself, realizing Giorgio was not involved. She touched his arm and led him back to the bench.

  “What happened?” she whispered.

  Giorgio nodded. “Sometimes,” he said, speaking as if in a trance, “I worked when he needed help with the bigger jobs like shipments of computers.”

  She looked deep into his eyes and saw his pain. “Giorgio, everyone thought that Roberto was exporting olive oil. What was he really doing?”

  “Giovanna, I swear by everything holy we believed the business was legitimate. Roberto first exported olive oil, then wine and cheese. Then he got friendly with people in New York City. At first, it was business as usual. Then the shipments turned into computers. Roberto noticed the invoices and transport documents didn’t match. I was with him when he received his first payment, an amazing amount, too good to be true. Roberto thought it was a mistake but New York told him the money was a bonus for his silence.”

  “Who are these people in New York?”

  Giorgio shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  “You’re a terrible liar! You know! Now, tell me!” she demanded

  “Why? What can you possibly do? You’re just a girl.”

  Her lips parted in the beginnings of a smile. Her cousin was so naive. “Correction, Giorgio. I’m a woman who is determined to seek justice for my family!”

  “Justice?” he scoffed. “Justice is bought, and these people have the money to do it!”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Just give me a name!” she commanded.

  Giorgio shook his head. “I will give you names only if I accompany you.”

  “You’re in no position to make demands. If our family discovers what you just told me, you’ll be treated as a leper!”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “No amore. I’m promising you.” She extended her hand toward his face, but he jerked away. “Give me a name, my love.”

  “I am signing your death warrant.”

  “That’s fine. I absolve you from any blame.”

  “The three in New York were killed a few days before your family. Their wives and children were also murdered. These are the people you will be trying to bring to justice. Do you still need to visit New York?”

  She hesitated a few seconds, a shadow of fear crossing her face. “I do,” she mumbled, with less conviction.

  “If you wish to hate me all of your life, and tell my family about me, that’s fine. I won’t help you on your fool’s quest. If you need a name in New York, speak with your uncles. I don’t know anyone who I’d trust with your life. If you choose to go, I’ve washed my hands.”

  Giovanna stood to leave. “Everything has changed, Giorgio. Forever! I can’t go back and neither can you. I love you, and I will always love you. I will follow your advice and go elsewhere for help.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Business was bustling at Peter Luger’s Steakhouse. Nick had scheduled the meeting here because it was his uncle’s favorite restaurant. Since Nick’s father’s untimely death from lung cancer, his younger brother, Alberto Manzione, had assumed control of the family business. Alberto was seventy-two with whitish-gray hair, and a huge, friendly smile that engulfed his well-tanned face. He jogged three miles each day and worked out with a personal trainer, which offset his only vices of eating fine food and drinking scotch. Alberto commanded respect. Behind the affable smile was an intense and perceptive man who left little to chance and made it his business to know everything he could about his friends and enemies.

  Alberto, accompanied by Nick and Nick’s older cousin Benedicto “Bebe” Mulata, were seated at their special round table. All stood to greet Steven.

  “Hello, Steven. It’s been a long time. Too long,” Bebe said, as he kissed him on both cheeks. “It’s great to see you. I’m real sorry about your family.” Bebe, at 6'7" and 290 pounds, with a large square head on a thick muscular neck, was a brick wall. His buzz cut, and huge black eyes with deep pockets underneath gave him a menacing expression. Scars on each cheek from knife fights made him even more intimidating.

  Steven nodded and patted Bebe on the shoulder and remembering how the neighborhood kids had given Bebe the nickname “Troll” when they were younger. He was probably one of the ugliest people he had ever known, he thought, but someone you wanted on your side. “Good to see you, too, Bebe. You’re looking good.”

  Bebe pointed proudly at his waist. “Thanks. I’ve been working out and eating right.”

  Nick laughed and motioned for Bebe to sit.

  “What did I say?” Bebe said, looking back and forth between Nick and Alberto, genuinely bewildered.

  Alberto raised his glass. “Salute, Steven. It’s wonderful to see you again.” He motioned for him to sit across from him. Steven bowed his head toward the patriarch and waited for Nick and Bebe to sit.

  Alberto raised his glass again. “To our families’ long bond.”

  Steven raised his glass. “To all those we have lost.”

  Nick lifted his glass. “To Amanda.”

  There was a momentary silence before everyone echoed, “To Amanda.”

  The waiter arrived with salads, ending the solemnity.

  “I took the liberty of ordering,” Alberto said.

  Steven nodded.

  While they ate, the men reminisced about old times, lamenting the passing of so many good friends and family members. Coffee and dessert found them recounting fond memories of Nick’s father, Pierro. Each man had several favorite stories to share about the man.

  “Steven, my brother loved you,” Alberto said. “Of course, he respected your mother’s decision when you were younger, but it wasn’t what he would have chosen for you.” Alberto sipped his espresso. “That was one of the few times I ever saw my brother back away from something he wanted. He believed that you and Nick would always look out for each other. Of course, Nick broke his father’s heart when he shunned you.” Alberto glanced at Nick, who lowered his eyes.

  Alberto patted his nephew’s head. “But my brother loved his son more than life itself. He was deeply blessed to have such a devoted son, and I am equally blessed to have such an exceptional nephew.”

  Steven and Bebe nodded their heads in agreement.

  “Don’t forget Carlo,” Nick added.

  “I’ll never forget your older brother,” Alberto replied. “I think of him every day. He was the best! Before I die, I’ll find the bastard who murdered him and personally give him an invitation to the Gates of Hell.”

  Alberto finished his coffee, looked intently across the table at Steven, and ordered four glasses of Sambuca with coffee beans. “Steven, my brother would never have approved of what you request from me.”

  Steven looked into the patriarch’s eyes and saw his conflict. “I understand. He cared greatly for me, and I for him. But everything has changed, Alberto. The man sitting before you is not the man your brother loved. That man died with his family. Like you, Alberto, he wouldn’t have wanted to endanger me, but he would have understood. He would have known that this is what must be done, and done by my hand.”

  “I know that all too well,” Alberto said. “When you were young, Pierro and I would comment on your stubbornness. You were worse than Nick! Steven, I know you will do this no matter what I say, no matter how I try to discourage you, but....”

  Steven tried to interject, but was immediately stopped.

  “Silencio! You must know what you are up against! I have learned that the man who killed your family is known as the ‘Scorpion’, a professional assassin, and the best in the business. Nobody knows his identity. He is a ghost who changes appearances like a chameleon. He could be sitting next to you and you would never know him. Am I making myself clear, Steven?”

  Steven nodded. “Yes.”

  “I don’t fear much. But I fear this man. He fears nothing, not even God. He is a man wi
thout a soul, with no moral code. Because he killed your pregnant wife and your beautiful daughter, I no longer have allegiance to him. He has disgraced our business by these deplorable acts. But you must understand that I don’t wish to make him my enemy. He worked for us and was very effective. Something you’ve never understood is that killing is necessary in my business. The Scorpion, however, kills not only for business but also for sport. I am trying to determine who hired him for these hits and why they were ordered. Tony was under the protection of my family, and I didn’t sanction the hit. There is a mystery as to what Tony was doing that I will solve, I promise. I’ll find those who gave the unsanctioned order and I vow on the grave of my father, their blood will spill!”

  Steven gulped down his Sambuca, and contemplated Alberto’s words. Steven had never known Alberto to fear anyone and suspected it must have been a revelation to both Nick and Bebe as well. No one spoke.

  Steven finally broke the long silence and addressed Alberto. “I greatly appreciate everything you’ve said to me. I respect you more than you will ever know, and value your wisdom. But this is something I must do. I have no choice but to find this man and kill him.”

  “I disagree,” Alberto replied. “We all have choices. To find this man is impossible. To kill him, you’ll need a miracle. His eyes and ears are everywhere, and you’ll be tracking him into his own world! Everything will be on his terms. He will eventually discover your plan. I am guaranteeing your execution by granting your request!”

  Steven leaned across the table and clasped the elderly man’s hands and smiled as he gazed into Alberto’s eyes. He saw a vulnerability that few had ever seen. “I know exactly what you’re doing and I love you for it, as I loved your brother. But I want revenge for my wife and children.”

  “How will you kill him? Have you thought this through?”