The Scorpion's Tale

by Wayne Block

  Steven sat back in the pew and cradled his head in his hands. His thoughts returned to murder. As he left the church, Steven deposited $25,000 into the poor box. The donation was not in devotion to God, for he was again Godless. He left it for the poor. He knew he wasn’t going to have any need for it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Detective Johnston sat at his desk, completing his report. As expected, the meeting with his police chief had been unproductive. The telephone rang.

  “Detective Johnston.”

  “This is Marco Bollini.”

  The detective was surprised to hear from Steven’s brother-in-law. He knew Marco disliked him.

  “This is certainly a surprise. What can I do for you?”

  “It’s about Steven. I need your help.”

  “You need my help? Up until now, you couldn’t do enough to keep me off Steven’s ass!”

  Marco stayed composed. “Detective, we can either break each other’s balls or we can pool our resources and save Steven. I have someone who wants to meet you. You make the next move!”

  “I’m at the station. Come over now.”

  “No,” Marco said emphatically. “That’s not going to work. There’s an Italian restaurant in our neighborhood called Angela’s. Meet me there at six o’clock.”

  “I know the restaurant. May I at least know who I’m meeting?”

  “Charlie. Charlie P. from Chicago. You’ll want to talk to him. Don’t be late.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you at six.”

  Johnston didn’t need to review his notes to remember the name. Charlie was Steven’s Chicago dinner companion. Marco was right; he did want to speak to Charlie.

  -------------------

  Nick was tense on the ride to the hotel, and Pete thought they could use some levity. “Hey, Nick, I’m a little disappointed we didn’t get a chance to use this great fire power, but at least we got rid of Giorgio.”

  “Giorgio was a piece of shit,” Nick growled. “He was bait, that’s all. You’ll get a chance to use those weapons. Just wait.” Nick looked at Braulio, who nodded at him. Louie caught the exchange.

  “What’s going on, Boss?” Louie asked.

  “Braulio planted a tracking device on our good friend Giorgio. He’s finally going to be useful to us. You guys are to wait an hour, then catch up with Renaldo for some payback. Those cocksuckers killed Jerry, then Eddie. Squish the life out of each of them. Capiche?”

  Louie smiled. “Now you’re talking!”

  -------------------

  The Scorpion made a stop at a local merchant in Rio’s business district. He emerged moments later, his carry-on bag considerably heavier due to the addition of two newly acquired Glocks, silencers, and extra clips. He walked a half-mile to a small apartment building, climbed a flight of stairs, and unlocked the door to a tiny, unfurnished apartment. In his carry-on was a DHL Express uniform. He undressed, went into the bathroom, removed his neatly trimmed goatee, and scrubbed his face with soap. Then, he wet his hair and applied hair color from a tube, combing it through several times. A few minutes later his hair had a platinum sheen. To complete the disguise, he put on green contact lenses and inspected his appearance in the mirror. Satisfied, he dressed in the uniform and glanced at his watch to confirm he was on schedule. He loaded the Glocks, attached the silencers, and test-fired both weapons into a stack of pillows. As he was almost done packing his bag, his cell phone rang. The Scorpion screened the number on the caller identification before answering.

  “What information do you have?” he commanded.

  “Everything is in an envelope in the locked glove box.”

  “And the keys to the truck?”

  “Arranged as you desired.”

  “Good. Anything else?”

  “It’s a two-story, private house with nine occupants.”

  “No women or children?”

  “No.”

  “Call me if anything changes.”

  “We have one little problem.”

  “What?” The Scorpion was annoyed.

  “The second job must be done right after the first. We’ll need to make arrangements for the hotel as soon as possible.”

  “Fine. Get on with it.”

  The Scorpion collected his bag, left the apartment, and locked the door. Two blocks away, he stopped at a small house, inserted a key into the mailbox, and withdrew an envelope. As he walked down an alley, he ripped open the envelope and removed a set of keys. A few blocks further, a DHL Express truck awaited him. He opened the glove compartment and withdrew an envelope, scanning the contents before heading to the site of the soon-to-be massacre.

  -------------------

  Two of Renaldo’s men were sitting on the front stoop of a two-story house, smoking cigarettes as they saw a DHL truck pull up. The driver got out with a package and started walking toward the front door. The men stood and eyed him suspiciously. The driver addressed them in fluent Portuguese. One man opened the front door as the other man followed them in. Upon entering the house, a third man grabbed the package and a fourth put a gun to the deliveryman’s head and frisked him.

  “He’s clean, Boss.”

  Renaldo extended his hand and apologized. “No hard feelings, my friend. We are very careful around here. We don’t often receive surprise packages.”

  Renaldo pointed to his man holding the package. “Open it.” Meanwhile, numerous guns were trained on the Scorpion. Renaldo’s associate slowly opened the box. Everyone in the room expressed relief and amusement to discover several expensive shirts. The enclosed card thanked Renaldo for his business and asked him to accept the shirts as a gift. Renaldo laughed hysterically.

  “We are becoming a bunch of superstitious old women!” He pulled out a U.S. hundred dollar bill and handed it to the deliveryman. “For your inconvenience.”

  The Scorpion pretended to be terrified and simply nodded his head. He scanned the room and noted eight other smiling faces.

  “No problem. Have a nice day,” he said as he walked out, followed by one of the men, who paused long enough to watch him enter his truck before re-entering the house. The Scorpion was pleased to see that the front door remained slightly ajar. He opened another box in the rear of the truck, removed both loaded Glocks with silencers, and picked up another package. He stuck one Glock down the front of his shorts and kept the other in his right hand underneath the package as he walked slowly up to the front door. He saw through the front window that all nine men were still in the same positions where he left them.

  The Scorpion gently pushed the door open with his left foot while continuing to balance the package. The men were drinking, talking loudly, and holding up the shirts, displaying them to one another. Renaldo’s smile instantly faded as he noticed the deliveryman standing in the doorway.

  “What do you want now, moron?”

  All of Renaldo’s men turned.

  The Scorpion smiled apologetically as he addressed Renaldo. “My apologies. There was another box of shirts.”

  Before Renaldo could say anything, the Scorpion tossed the box high into the air, causing everyone’s attention to focus on the airborne package. The Scorpion removed the Glock from his waistband with his left hand and fired both guns simultaneously. The first bullet went directly through Renaldo’s forehead. Within seconds all nine men were sprawled on the floor, dead or dying. Each man received an insurance bullet after the Scorpion reloaded. He then locked the front door and searched each room, making sure there were no witnesses. After checking the first floor, he went upstairs, where he found a locked room. He shot the lock off and the door opened. It was dark, since the windows had been sealed with plywood. He flicked on the light and saw a man strapped and tied to a board nailed to one of the walls. He had been brutally tortured and crucified; his face was barely recognizable.

  Assignment completed. He had rid the world of some of its worst vermin. The Scorpion retrieved the two boxes–the only items he had touched. He closed the door to the ho
use with a cloth, hopped into his truck, and drove to a pre-designated place, where he torched the truck along with the boxes and the DHL uniform. He left wearing running shorts and a tee shirt, looking inconspicuous as he jogged to another apartment. As expected, an elegant new outfit awaited him in a suit bag hanging in the closet. He showered, dyed his hair black, added a pencil-thin moustache, and darkened his eyebrows. He left ready to patronize the prestigious Copacabana Palace Hotel.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Marco, who was seated at a round table with Charlie P, stood to greet Detective Johnston.

  “Hello detective,” Marco said, extending his hand in a friendly gesture. “This is Charlie P.”

  “Hello Charlie. What did you want to discuss with me?” the detective asked.

  Charlie looked at Marco, who nodded. “Go ahead Charlie. For now, assume he’s one of us.”

  Detective Johnston nodded deferentially toward Marco. “Thank you for your vote of confidence.”

  “Just earn it, detective.”

  Charlie cleared his throat. “I don’t know how much you already know. Chime in whenever you’d like.” Charlie told him about the meetings in Chicago with Steven and the Scorpion. “Steven is tracking this killer alone, and the only help he’s getting is from washed-up old geezers like me, sending him on a wild goose chase. All the while, the Scorpion is toying with him, following from a distance. Steven has stroked the Scorpion’s distorted ego; he’s flattered that someone is hunting him for a change. We need to intervene and even the odds. Otherwise, Steven is dead.”

  Detective Johnston whistled. “Let’s assume I believe Steven is innocent and is chasing this psycho. Where does that leave me?”

  “It leaves you free to concentrate on finding Steven and helping him find the Scorpion,” Charlie replied.

  “What else can you tell me?”

  “I sent Steven to Las Vegas to meet a man named Billy Veeksburn.”

  “I know,” the detective replied. “Billy was killed after that meeting.”

  Charlie looked pale. “Billy’s dead?” He looked incredulously at Marco and then at Detective Johnston. “I can’t believe it!”

  “Believe it!” the detective replied. “I also met with his partner, Harry Chesney, who confirmed everything that happened. Harry was the Scorpion’s source. He told the Scorpion the time and location of the meeting, and set up his partner.”

  “So, do you believe my brother-in-law also killed this Billy?” Marco asked.

  “No. I know that Steven didn’t murder anyone,” the detective answered.

  Charlie took a deep breath. “I never would have pegged Harry for a rat. Anyway, I have absolutely no idea where Steven went after Billy.”

  “He went to Roatan to visit a man named Pablo Munoz.”

  “Pablo?” Charlie exclaimed.

  “Yes. Do you know him?”

  “Of course! Everyone in my business knows Pablo.” Charlie scratched his head. “I believe it may be worth a call to Pablo.”

  “Hold on,” Detective Johnston said. “Let’s just assume Munoz can lead us to Steven. What exactly is your plan?”

  “I don’t have a plan,” Charlie answered.

  “What difference will it make if one or all of us reach Steven?” the detective asked. “We’ll just be more targets for the Scorpion.”

  “If we can get to Steven first, perhaps we can turn the tables on the Scorpion,” Charlie said. “Perhaps we can work together to set a trap for him.”

  Detective Johnston frowned. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to insult you, but do you really believe we can trap a professional assassin and master of disguise? This isn’t a movie.”

  “The Scorpion confessed to me that he actually regrets killing Steven’s family,” Charlie added. “He wants to meet Steven to explain himself. I believe that is the sole reason why he hasn’t killed him. In his warped mind he needs absolution from Steven before killing him.”

  “Are you serious?” Detective Johnston asked.

  “Dead serious,” Charlie replied. “When a man is pointing a gun and confessing his sins, I take every word as gospel! The Scorpion is having nightmares about Steven’s wife and daughter. He needs to be forgiven. That’s not his way. He’s usually extraordinarily meticulous and methodical. His recklessness has caused an inner conflict that he cannot handle.”

  The men contemplated Charlie’s words until the waiter approached and they ordered three Heinekens and a large pepperoni pizza.

  “No guarantees,” Detective Johnston said. “I’m going to be hard pressed to sell any of this to my superiors, but it’s worth a call to Munoz. It would also help to know whether Steven is still alive. Make the call.”

  -------------------

  Charlie returned ten minutes later. “I had an interesting discussion with Pablo. In a nutshell, he met Steven and sent him to St. Thomas to visit Joaquin Ordonez.”

  “Who’s he?” Marco asked, as he nibbled on a piece of crust.

  “Joaquin is a former assassin who became a highly respected elder statesman in our dark world. Pablo told me that Joaquin was once close with the Scorpion.”

  “That’s all he told you?” Marco asked. “So Steven goes to Central America to find some crackpot who sends him to some old man in the Virgin Islands? Are these guys lunatics or are they simply having fun at my brother-in-law’s expense?”

  Charlie shrugged as he took a huge bite out of his slice.

  “It’s not as crazy as it seems,” the detective said. “Bit by bit, Steven is getting into this killer’s inner circle. He started with Charlie, who was a business acquaintance, and now he’s meeting someone much closer. Steven is being educated and is amassing a dossier of information on the elusive Scorpion that no one has ever collected. I like it!”

  Marco shook his head. “This is insane!”

  Detective Johnston ignored his comment. “Charlie, did Munoz give you any specific information?”

  “Yes. He gave me Joaquin’s phone number. Pablo wanted to help, but could not leave Roatan.”

  “Have you ever met Ordonez?” Marco asked.

  “Many times, but I haven’t seen him in years. I had no idea he was living in St. Thomas. I thought he was long dead. Pablo informed me that Joaquin’s location is a secret he’s guarded for many years.”

  “Call him now, Charlie,” Detective Johnston commanded.

  -------------------

  Charlie returned a few minutes later.

  “Where’s Steven now?” Marco asked.

  “He’s on his way to Quito, Ecuador, and then he’s traveling into the mountains to find a priest named Pierre Mateuse,” Charlie answered. “Father Mateuse was an assassin who turned to God. He was the Scorpion’s best friend. Joaquin believes that Pierre Mateuse knows where to find the Scorpion.”

  “So what does this mean for us?” Detective Johnston asked.

  “Joaquin is coming to Miami. He says he has valuable information and that we must go to Ecuador with him,” Charlie replied.

  “I can’t go,” Marco said. “I’ve got to be here for the family. My father is gravely ill.”

  Charlie nodded. “I understand. What about you, Detective Johnston? Are you coming with me to Ecuador?”

  Detective Johnston rolled his eyes. “My chief will never go for it. However, he did suggest I take some personal time. I could do this on my own time, but I have to think about it. When would you be going?”

  “I plan to fly to Miami this evening to meet Joaquin. He said we could catch an early morning flight to Quito.”

  “I’ll pay all your expenses if money is an issue, Detective,” Marco offered.

  “That’s honestly the only way I could go. Let me make a few calls and see if this might work.”

  “I’m calling Joaquin now,” Charlie said. “I’m going to make my flight reservation to Miami.”

  “Make your arrangements,” the detective said. “If I can join you, I will. Give me your cell phone numbers.”

  �
�We’d better get going to catch that flight,” Marco said, standing and motioning to Charlie. Marco pulled out a fifty-dollar bill and handed it to the detective. “This is for dinner. Our waitress can keep the change. Good luck.”

  -------------------

  Detective Johnston entered his darkened house and walked into a living room that was illuminated only by the television. He walked over to the fireplace and retrieved a beautifully framed photograph of his wife.

  “Ruth–you know this case haunts me. I must travel to Ecuador to help the man I told you about. He’s alone and in danger. I can’t walk away. I know you’d want me to help him.”

  He gently caressed the picture, kissed the image and said, “I love you.” A tear trickled down his face as he replaced his dead wife’s picture on the mantle. He turned off the television that he’d left on continuously for many months, then went upstairs and packed his bag.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Braulio drove around the back of the targeted house and parked down the block. The signal from the tracking device hadn’t moved. The plan was simple: storm the house, kill everyone inside, and flee. All three men were armed with machine guns as they cautiously approached the house. Pete and Braulio sought cover behind shrubbery while Louie peered into several windows. Louie couldn’t see anything until he reached the front windows, obscured by the same trees that gave him protective cover. He looked inside and saw bodies sprawled all over the floor. He tried to collect his thoughts, wondering if he was hallucinating. He took a longer second look and saw several bodies on the floor. Louie returned to Pete and Braulio.