by Wayne Block
Louie shook his head. “No, Nick. I don’t know them.”
Nick found his wallet and opened it. He pulled out the driver’s license and showed it to Louie.
“Eddie Torres,” Nick read.
“Great,” Louie said, “there must be a thousand Eddie Torres’ in the city.”
“Get the other guy’s wallet and let’s get out of here.”
Louie jumped up and ran over to the dead man.
Nick looked down at the gunman. The man’s chest was heaving as he struggled for his final breaths. Nick leaned closer to him.
The man opened his eyes and looked straight at Nick. Blood was flowing from his mouth and nose. He struggled to speak, moving his trembling lips and working his jaw muscles in a desperate attempt to form words. He managed to utter a short sentence, struggling for breaths in between each word.
“You fuck, the…bitch…is…dead. So…are…you.” A faint smile came across his face, and then he was gone. Nick ran to his car and joined Louie, thinking how his brother Carlo helped him out again, this time from beyond the grave.
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Nick and Louie hastily entered Alberto’s house. Alberto wore his bathrobe and was getting ready to retire. He came downstairs and met them in the study.
“What happened?” Alberto asked, looking back and forth between the ashen faces of Nick and Louie.
“We were ambushed at the restaurant,” Nick replied. “They were shooting from a car parked on the street. Pete and Louie killed two, but two got away.”
Alberto looked past Nick. “Where’s Pete?” he asked.
“He’s with Giovanna at her hotel,” Nick answered.
“And Jerry?” Alberto asked.
Nick glanced at Louie, and then lowered his head. “Jerry’s dead. He took about fifty bullets.”
“Yeah, Alberto,” Louie added, “that overstuffed teddy bear saved our lives.”
Alberto walked over to his chair and sat down. He looked pale. He silently stroked his chin and looked down at the ground, shaking his head in disbelief. Alberto loved Jerry. War had been declared.
“Who are these people?” he shouted, looking beyond Nick and Louie. “They’re dead. All of them!”
Nick and Louie said nothing, waiting for Alberto’s wrath to subside.
Alberto looked at Nick. “I’ve changed my mind. I want you to do what you need to do and find these people. The two surviving shooters are already marked men. I expect their bodies will be floating in the river by tonight. You won’t find them alive. Find out who hired them.” He yelled something incomprehensible and pounded his fist on the end table. “Jerry, Jerry! I raised him like a son! Poor Jerry,” Alberto moaned. “He was loyal like a son! He was famiglia!”
Alberto’s eyes were red and puffy, but there were no tears. Alberto would not allow himself to cry in front of his men. “Find these mothers and send them an invitation to the Gates of Hell!” he yelled.
“What about Giovanna?” Nick asked.
“Bring her here! Get her out of that hotel!”
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Alberto, Nick, and Louie sat in the study and waited, while a horde of enforcers patrolled the estate. Nick paced back and forth, looking at his watch every few minutes. Finally, one of Alberto’s men walked in the room to announce Pete’s arrival. Nick got up and poured himself a scotch. He could now relax.
Pete walked into the room followed by Giovanna. Nick rushed over and hugged her.
“How are you doing?” Nick asked, gently stroking her hair.
“Better now,” she said.
Nick took her by the hand and led her towards Alberto. “I want to introduce you to my uncle.”
“Giovanna, I have been looking forward to meeting you. I’m sorry that it’s under such circumstances.” Alberto’s smile disappeared. “It appears that Nick has not been completely truthful with me.” Alberto glanced at Nick’s apprehensive expression. Giovanna also looked worried. Alberto returned his gaze to Giovanna’s face and an even bigger smile spread across his face. “You are even more beautiful than Nick described! I’ll deal with my nephew later. Come sit next to me.”
When they realized that Alberto was teasing them, Nick and Giovanna both breathed a sigh of relief. Giovanna sat on the couch next to Alberto’s chair.
“What can we get you to drink, Giovanna? I’m sure you probably need something after tonight.”
Giovanna sighed heavily. “A gin and tonic. Thank you.”
Alberto looked over at Louie. “You heard the lady.”
Alberto regarded the young lovers for a few moments. “You make a nice couple.”
Nick smiled as he put his arm around her. Giovanna snuggled against him. “Your nephew is a very special man,” she said, taking Nick’s hand in hers.
“I know,” Alberto agreed. “And he thinks the world of you.”
Giovanna nodded appreciatively.
“I am very sorry about what happened to your family,” Alberto said. “I know you are determined to find the people responsible. I had instructed Nick to take you back to San Remo because it is too dangerous for you to remain in New York.”
“And I agree to return with Nick,” she acknowledged.
Nick looked surprised. “I thought you were going to think about it.”
Giovanna smiled, all the while looking at Alberto. “I’ve had plenty of time to think about it. I will return to San Remo with Nick.”
Alberto retrieved his drink and took a sip. “Giovanna, I’ve changed my mind. These people tried to kill you and Nick. Jerry is dead.”
Giovanna lowered her eyes. “He seemed very sweet.”
“He was,” Alberto said, a lump in his throat. “I want Nick to find these people, and I would like you to remain a guest in my house. My men will protect you until this is finished. I’m sending Nick to Rio.”
Louie handed Giovanna her drink and sat down next to Pete.
Giovanna sipped her drink, inching closer to Alberto and lowering her voice. “Alberto, I greatly appreciate your hospitality and your generous offer to protect me, but I want to go with Nick to Brazil. I need to go with him!”
Alberto raised his hand to silence her. “Enough! I won’t hear of it!” he said, raising his voice. “You will stay here and that’s the end of this discussion!”
“It’s much too dangerous for you, Giovanna,” Nick added. “You need to be here where I won’t have to worry about you. I’m going into a city I know nothing about. I’ve got a job to do, and you’ll only get in the way.” Nick felt Giovanna’s body tense, and she pulled away slightly, just enough to let Nick know she was displeased.
Giovanna knew it was pointless to argue any further. She wasn’t going to change Alberto’s mind. She held her tongue as she considered her options.
Nick moved closer to the edge of the couch. “Uncle, Louie and Pete will come with me. I’d like to take Eddie and Braulio. Eddie’s been there before so he can help us get our bearings.”
Alberto stood up. “Take all of them.”
Nick turned to Louie. “Go tell Eddie and Braulio to get ready.”
Alberto leaned towards Giovanna and kissed her on the cheek. “Goodnight. We’ll have more time to talk in the morning. Perhaps you’ll join me for breakfast and you can tell me about your family. I know you are angry with me, but you will come to appreciate the wisdom of my decision.”
Giovanna smiled warmly. She was already making other plans. “That would be my pleasure, Alberto. I look forward to our breakfast.” She kissed him on the cheek and glanced at Nick.
“I’ll be up in five minutes,” Nick said.
Alberto extended his elbow and Giovanna walked him out of the room.
After giving orders to his men, Nick went upstairs and entered the bedroom. Giovanna was in the bathroom washing her face. Nick sat down at the computer to purchase the tickets.
Giovanna emerged from the bathroom and stood behind him. She began gently massaging Nick’s shoulders as he maneu
vered through his travel agent’s website. “I’m really going to miss you.”
Nick nodded, too deeply engrossed in his computer to acknowledge her.
She watched him book five round-trip business class tickets departing JFK at seven-thirty in the morning. He was careful to surround himself with his men without bunching them together.
“You could have stood up for me, Nick.”
Nick was half-listening to her. Without taking his eyes off the computer screen, he replied, “No, baby, I agree with my uncle. It’s much too dangerous in Brazil. You’ll like it here, trust me.”
She walked over to the night table next to the bed and jotted something down on a piece of paper. “I’m going to bed. Are you joining me?”
Nick turned around to look at her. “Why don’t you unpack? I’m just finishing up here.”
“Unpacking can wait until tomorrow, but I can’t. Here’s your window of opportunity Mr. Manzione,” she said, as she slowly unbuttoned her blouse. “You have three seconds and I’m counting…one…”
Before she reached two, Nick practically tackled her onto the bed. They rolled together and she wound up on top of him. She quickly straddled him, pinning his arms under her knees. She glared at him, breathing hard. “Now we’re going to do this my way.”
Nick nodded, speechless.
She ripped his shirt off and watched his awestruck face. “Just something to think about while you’re all alone in Rio. Bon Voyage!”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Detective Johnston was at Denny’s, eating a patty melt with fries, thinking:
Who the hell would want me dead? Chesney knew that his partner was meeting Capresi on the trail. Harry had all the details at his fingertips to give the Scorpion. But, if the Scorpion had been on that trail and killed Billy Veeksburn and the women, why didn’t he kill Steven? That made no sense. He knew Harry was the Scorpion’s informant because Chesney was still alive. But why not kill Steven? It was time to find Capresi and get out of town.
His cell phone rang.
“Johnston,” he answered.
“Mike,” the voice answered, “I’ve got some information for you.”
“Johnny, what do you have?”
“Capresi left Vegas this morning. He purchased a ticket with cash. We found him by checking the outbound passenger lists. At least he’s using his real name.”
Detective Johnston breathed a sigh of relief. “I guess he’s getting a little smarter, but not smart enough, thank God. Where is he going?”
“He’s going to Roatan.”
“Roa-who? Where the hell is that?”
“It’s an island off Honduras.”
Johnston remained silent.
“C’mon Mike–you do know where Honduras is, don’t you?” Johnny ribbed.
“Everyone knows that Honduras is in South America. As a matter of fact, I think it’s near Chile or one of those big countries.”
Johnny chuckled. “Honduras is in Central America between Belize and Nicaragua.”
Johnston grimaced. “I knew that, Johnny. Now where the hell is Belize?”
Johnny laughed. “Anyway, Mike, your man has a three hour layover in Miami and then he’ll be moving south.”
“That’s great work.” The detective hung up and analyzed this new information. Steven was trying to stay off the grid and was certainly behaving like a suspect! He yawned. He needed sleep. His brain was fried. Capresi could wait until tomorrow. He also wanted to visit Chesney one more time before leaving Vegas.
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Steven descended the stairway of the aircraft at Roatan International Airport, and walked to the terminal. The weather was magnificent–warm and breezy. Steven followed the passengers to customs and waited patiently in the longer line, for non-Hondurans. He reached the booth and a young man wearing a crisp green uniform asked for Steven’s passport. The man casually glanced at Steven’s small travel bags and took a closer look at Steven’s face.
“How long will you be staying in Roatan?” he inquired in broken English.
Steven frowned. “I’m not sure–probably two or three days.”
The young man again surveyed Steven’s luggage.
“What is the purpose of your visit and where will you be staying?”
Steven decided that the truth was the best approach. “I’m staying with my friend Pablo Munoz.”
The young man’s eyes bulged and his expression changed.
“Esperame, señor. Wait here, por favor,” the man exclaimed as he scurried into a nearby office. Moments later he returned, followed by a middle-aged gentleman, dressed in a similar uniform, with various insignia and an important-looking military cap. Steven figured him for the top brass.
The officer retrieved Steven’s passport as his young assistant directed the other passengers to wait in the other line.
“Mr. Capresi,” he said, extending his hand to Steven, “my name is Captain Esteban. Welcome to Roatan.” He spoke better English than his protégé, and pointed past the customs booth. “I will personally drive you to Señor Munoz.”
Steven unsuccessfully tried to initiate a conversation with the Captain during the ride. They drove for quite some time and eventually the car slowed and turned off the main highway toward the ocean. After passing a few small areas of overgrown vegetation, the road opened into a small complex and they approached a guarded gatehouse. The guard raised the gate, permitting the car to proceed down a well-paved road leading to an ornate iron gate where three armed guards stood. They were now a few hundred yards away from the pristine waters of the Caribbean Sea. The gate swung open and one of the guards approached the car.
“Oye, Juan, El Gringo viene,” Captain Esteban laughed, pointing to Steven. The guard lowered his head into the window, peered at Steven with an expressionless face, and smacked the roof of the car twice signaling them to proceed. The car drove down a circular, graveled driveway, immaculately landscaped with palm trees and assorted flowering plants. The house had a mixture of colonial and Victorian influences with a distinctly tropical flair.
Captain Esteban parked the car, opened the trunk, and placed Steven’s bags on the driveway. “Buena suerte,” the captain said. A moment later he was exiting the gate, leaving Steven and his luggage in the middle of the driveway.
Before Steven could move, the front door opened and three men emerged. The first man appeared to be in his mid-sixties, with medium-length white hair, and was casually dressed in sandals, shorts, and a Guayabera shirt. The bodyguards wore suits and ties, which seemed odd for the tropical climate.
The older man strode down the steps, extending his hand toward Steven. “Steven Capresi. Welcome to my home. I am Pablo Munoz.”
Steven smiled as he received Pablo’s firm handshake.
“I am very happy to meet you, Señor Munoz.”
Pablo put his hand up and made a face. “In my home, you call me Pablo. There are no formalities here.”
“Thank you, Pablo.”
He then introduced Steven to the other two men.
“These gentlemen are Miguel and Rafael, my close friends and business associates.”
Both men nodded at Steven. Pablo turned around to Miguel.
“Miguel, take Steven’s bags to his room.”
Miguel nodded and did as he was told.
Pablo turned back to Steven. “Have you eaten?”
“Not yet,” Steven replied.
Pablo smiled. “Excellent. Do you like seafood?”
“I’m Italian. I eat everything.”
Pablo Munoz patted Steven on the shoulder. “I love the Italians. They are so much like my own people, with a true appreciation for life and good food.”
“And also good company,” Steven added.
Pablo smiled. “Of course, good company is essential.”
Pablo addressed Rafael. “Steven and I will take our drinks on the veranda.”
Pablo smiled at Steven. “Come. Let me show you my house and then we’ll relax
on the veranda. I’m going to make certain that you enjoy your stay.”
Steven followed Pablo into the house knowing that he was one step closer to the Scorpion and most likely, his own death.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Early next morning, Detective Johnston took a cab to Harry Chesney’s office. At lunch, Harry had mentioned he got to work very early. It was almost six thirty as the detective squatted behind a thick bush on the side of Harry’s building.
Sure enough, the detective spotted Harry walking up the street toward his office, dressed in faded jeans, brown leather sandals, and a Led Zeppelin tee shirt. He reached the door, fumbled for his keys, and unlocked it. But before Harry could close the door, Detective Johnston sprang from his hiding place and rammed himself against his surprised quarry. Harry feebly tried to reach for his gun but Detective Johnston had the momentum, catching him under the jaw with a powerful right uppercut. Harry hit his head against the floor and groaned. Blood dripped from his mouth. With one massive arm, the detective swung Harry’s body into a chair and pointed his .38 special directly at Harry’s head.
“No more bullshit. What do you know about the Scorpion?”
“I told you everything.”
The detective clenched his large fist and placed it against Harry’s cheek. “I have no qualms about beating the shit out of you, so don’t push me. You set up your partner and were shocked when Capresi came strolling back to your cab.”
Harry frowned and shook his head defiantly. “That’s ridiculous!”
Detective Johnston grabbed Harry by the shirt and smashed the butt of his gun against Harry’s forehead, giving him a gash above his right eye. “My next shot is going to break your nose,” he said, raising the gun butt over Harry’s face.
“Hold on, hold on!” Harry yelled.
“I want the truth. Where is Capresi going? I want to know what the Scorpion told you.”
