Ded Reckoning

by William F Lee

  The waiter's eyes brighten, pleased with the native language from this new stranger, but more so by the request. "Oh, yes, of course. The only one we have. The family was originally from the Tuscany area and had a wonderful winery there. We like to think of them as one of our own, or at least Momma Gemma did." He pauses, then, "You know of this wine? This family?"

  "Yes. I am the granddaughter of Signore and Signora DeLuca. Maria DeLuca."

  The waiter bows graciously, rises, looks around, arms spread palms up and smiles, "Then your first night will be as our guest." He smiles, shrugs, "I am family. May I suggest a bottle of the Chianti Reserva?"

  Maria nods her head, smiles demurely, and murmurs, "Thank you, Signore. It will be my pleasure, and the Chianti will be an excellent start to this evening."

  The waiter takes Maria's hand, brushes her fingers with his lips, and scurries away to get the wine and notify others of their special guest this evening, and of course bring the Ristoranti's photographer back for a picture of him and Maria DeLuca, for the wall of course.

  Maria relaxes, smiles and nods to a few tables of guests who have overheard the waiter's remarks and certainly observed his flamboyant gestures. Her turmoil hidden in a tourist moment.

  I'm here. Should have brought the escort.

  CHAPTER 24

  "Anyone worth shooting

  is worth shooting more than once.

  Ammo is cheap."

  A gunfighter's rule

  The ring of the telephone is a shrill interruption to the peacefulness of the Russo villa.

  "Salve," the woman continues in her native language and dialect. "Signora Russo's residence. This is Estella."

  Rocco replies in same. "Estella, is Signore Catalano present, please?"

  There is a pause, then the soft voice says, "Questo dipenda?"

  "Il mio name a' Rocco DeStefano. Io sono suo amico. E molto importante."

  Another pause accompanied with a sigh. Then in a husky whisper, "Attendere un momento."

  Standing at the wall phone, Rocco drums his fingers on Drago's kitchen counter as moments that seem like hours drag by. The hurried tedium is broken by Roberto Catalano's harsh voice. "Rocco, speak to me and be quick." Then in a bit warmer tone, "I am pleasantly occupied."

  "Si. Ciao." Rocco continues in his native language. Easier for him; about the same for Pisces although irritable. "Antonio and his unfortunate girlfriend are no longer here. And better, they spoke to no one."

  His tone of voice back to harsh and brisk, Catalano replies, "Yes, I know. Although I have little time to myself here, I have heard the good news on TV."

  "What isn't on the news is that the clans have gathered here. All looking for Antonio, or perhaps me, to lead them home."

  "You will not let that happen. Understood?"

  "Yes, it will be so. To assist I have hired an old friend, the 'Silent One'. You remember him? He will help me dissuade the clans and he can be trusted."

  "Ahhh, yes. Awfully good, but he's a bit soft in the jowls and more grey in the temples these days. Yes?"

  "Si. But still excellent and most important, trustworthy."

  Roberto Catalano pauses. One can all but hear his mind shifting through the gears, Low-Low, Low, and finally, Drive. He asks in a whisper but maintains his coarseness, "And who are these interested clans?"

  "The same. From the north and both dressed poorly. And of course the constant companions from the Middle East. They have never forgotten your trip to Jerusalem."

  "Si. They never forget. Shit, from the beginning of time they remember." He pauses, then, "But I heard something on the news about them."

  "Yes, they are one less. Now three, at least here. Probably more coming."

  "You have a plan?"

  "Si. We will dispense of our friends this evening. All of them. And the extraordinarily beautiful lady who is also here. The mistress of your close friend."

  Another pause from the villa on the west coast of Sicily. Longer than before. Long enough to cause Rocco to utter, "Bossa?"

  "Yes. I'm here. The lady. Ahhh, yes. Okay. Do it. Put an end to all this. For all time. Everything to bed, finally. Then, come home. Bring the silent one with you, and we'll let him settle in peace and comfort. With the two, or three, or four of us." Pisces laughs, then, "And, I have something special for you."

  "I will do. Our friend will be pleased." A short pause, then, "What is special? Did it answer the telephone?"

  "You will see." Click

  Rocco has learned from experience that Pisces' surprises can be either colossal or fatal. Most have found the latter to be the case. Bruno certainly did. As did Anna. And before her, many. He mutters to himself, "And now Gina, I'ma guessin'. Well, I too have surprises."

  Drago comes into the kitchen and grunts, "All finished? When do we get started?"

  "Now."

  "Tonight?"

  "Of course. The night is always kind to the silent and the deadly."

  "And the swift?" grunts Drago. He pats his belly.

  "Swift enough, and remember, ammo is cheap."

  "Yes, a common law in the trade."

  Hunter walks the town. A reconnaissance patrol in tourist mode and dress. A tourist sees what they want and expect. The beauty and the historic. However, the scout sees all that and more. The hidden; the darkness; the shadows; and the unexpected. And he sees it as he will at night.

  Taormina is old; is quaint; and many sections are crowded with tourists. The distance from the Lido Mediterrainee to Pisces' villa is further than Hunter anticipated as it relates in time to traverse on foot. At patrol's end he spends the remainder of the afternoon observing the villa. It's beautiful. Spacious. A veranda with pool which has a covered sun deck and two uncovered. Also a four-person Jacuzzi-Spa. Two floors with an attached building with garages. And only a low stone wall. A five minute walk to town and no more than a five-minute drive to the beaches. Can see Etna although it must be 50km's, and from the pool area can see Naxos's beach and the Ionian coast. Even has what appears to be a wood-burning oven, perhaps for pizzas. More important there are three servants occupying the quarters above the garage, and no security, at least for now. Hunter mulls this last observation. He wouldn't have needed any if he hadn't made the mistake with the cigar wrapper, and the ordering. The first, tiny. The second, fatal.

  A few deliveries come and go with ease. But, seemingly no Pisces. Through his travels today, Hunter knows that Roberto Catalano's boat, the 98 foot Benitti, The Sorrento, is gone and has been for several days. Gazing at the villa from the late afternoon shadows at the end of the street, Hunter thinks, The help will be a problem. They have no place in this. Only Pisces and his man, Rocco. Possibly his woman if he has one. Hell, he always has one. He pauses again. Another look, then starts strolling away from this beautiful area of Taormina knowing he will have to change hotels tonight. As he continues to amble down the hill towards town he thinks of what he has seen. The servants. Two older people and a young lad. Probably a woman somewhere. And of course Pisces and Rocco when they return. And they will. And they will die.

  At the bottom Hunter stops, looks back for a moment. Turns and strides away at a hurried pace. I can't avoid this fight, and I may just have to go into a survival mode and clean up the collateral damage, bodies, later.

  Having returned from his walk-about patrol, Alfonse Battaglia hurriedly checks out of the Lido Mediterrainee hotel claiming he must return home because of an illness in the family. The valet loads the taxi, Alfonse tips him generously enough to satisfy the young man but not so much as to attract attention. Then he has the driver leave, appearing to head to Messina and its airport. Shortly after a few turns, a trip through town, a stop and park to stroll along a street looking for any possible tails, Hunter arrives at his new destination. The Atahotel Capotaormina on Via Nazioale. The hotel was founded four years ago and built on top of a cliff. A short hike to Pisces' villa. Hunter takes a classic room in lieu of their offerings of an Executive, Superior or a Suit
e. He'll draw less attention although all who come here attract some form of notice because of its exquisite nature. The hotel, established on the top, has lounges and pools down below. One being a salt water pool located at the tip of the property. Everything overlooks the exquisite blues of the ancient Bay of Naxos and Mediterranean Sea.

  After a shower and change of clothes, Hunter as Signore Alfonse Battaglia, goes to the hotel's La Scoglura Restaurant for a drink or two and dinner. He is seated at a table on the terrace highlighted by its stained wood decking and frame, with its bar and other tables on the other side of the glassed wall and sliding door. The restaurant of course specializes in Sicilian cuisine with the seafood all fresh caught that day.

  Having been served, Signore Battaglia relaxes at his table with a glass of Carricante, a white from the Etna area. It is mild, not as strong as many other local wines, and will blend nicely with the seafood feast he is entertaining. And perhaps just one glass of Malvosia with its golden amber color from the island of Li Pari near Messina after dinner. Then a stroll of the hotel grounds enjoying the view and return to his room, dress for his evening patrol to Pisces' villa, and perhaps inside if the opportunity presents itself.

  "Is the Signore ready to order, sir? We have some excellent choices this evening."

  Signore Battaglia feigns surprise of the waiter's arrival and responds in Italian. "No, not yet, and I know of the choices. It is a difficult decision. As is the entire menu, but I may go with one of the choices and let you decide which for me."

  "That would be an honor, Signore. I will think on it long and hard. In the meantime, just one more glass of the Carricante?"

  "Si."

  The waiter returns shortly with the wine and leaves Hunter with his thoughts as he sips his Etna wine.

  Gotta get inside tonight while it's empty.

  And call Joe later.

  And Maria ... gotta keep her cool. She's shaky. Need to get her some help.

  MacBeer's man has arrived and sits with Dee in the cocktail lounge. They talk in whispers as the two Irishmen and the two Israelis at opposite ends of the bar separately pretend to be in deep conversation as they watch Dee. Also with occasional eyeball sweeps of the lounge and lobby area. The Israelis of course see the Russians. Sean and Danny Shanahan don't know who they are but saw them and another clumsy pair board the plane late. And they can't clearly see the man's face who is sitting with the American woman, but they think he may be the man, Kerrigan. What they do know is that there is more going on than they bargained for, or perhaps want.

  The two Russians sit in separate chairs in the lobby, table between the two, one smoking a cigarette and feigning relaxation after dinner while the other leafs through a magazine pretending interest.

  The two Germans, believing the lobby is already too crowded, stand outside, across the street in a closed shop doorway hidden in the shadows of the night. Drago, smoking, nonchalantly is leaning against his recently inherited off-duty taxi. The driver in the back seat, neck broken, is forever off duty. The Silent One simply waits for the plan to unfold.

  Rocco has slipped inside the hotel from the rear alley and has found what he wants. Two unlocked cleaning and storage closets. One on the ground floor in the rear, and one on the fourth floor, just at the end of the hallway near the Queen Bee, Teresa Dee DeLuca's room. Returning below he stacks rags, towels, face cloths, rolls of toilet paper and boxes of tissue in the closet, then douses them with lighter fluid. Then empties a plastic bottle of tile cleaner and fills it with more fluid. Using a cleaning rag, he fashions a long enough fuse for the bottle so it'll burn for a few minutes. Rocco lights the cloth fuse, leaves the door ajar and dashes to the fire exit, then up three steps at a time to the fourth floor.

  He repeats the process on the fourth floor using less materials, and with a shorter fuse. He leaves that door ajar as well and walks to the other end of the hall. When he hears and sees the explosion at the other end, he breaks and pulls the fire alarm. Starts down the hallway screaming "fire" and shouting for people to get outside. He senses the explosion below hearing another alarm going off and people shouting. Next are the announcements over speakers in the lobby and internal PA system ordering people to evacuate the building and not to use elevators. The latter is emphasized again and again. The hallway on the fourth floor comes alive with people rushing out of rooms, some screaming, some shouting instructions, all running for the fire exit after excitedly finding the direction to run. Rocco struggles with the crowd's surge, but he shouts and creates as much panic as he can until he reaches Dee's room. No one notices him stopping, picking the lock, and entering as opposed to following the herd. He's just another panicked body at a room door.

  All of the room floors are being evacuated as are the lounges, bars, and lobby. Men and women in all forms of garb, pour onto the street in front. Bartenders and hotel employees hurry people outside. The fire engines, lights flashing, have begun to arrive. Police cars screech to a halt, sirens screaming and their blue lights flashing adding to the eeriness of the night. The guests, employees, and other people gather outside, backing away, to watch the building, inside and out. Police cordon the street forcing the crowd backwards towards the shadows of the other side. It looks and sounds like London, Tokyo or Berlin in the '40's, except there are no flames. Merely a little smoke is visible which in itself creates more babble and hence a louder crowd din.

  Drago backs away from his inherited taxi and eases over behind the two Germans who have inched away from the doorway, drawn by the events. No longer in the shadows. The two pops, each silenced revolver shots, are not even remotely heard over the sirens of the last few fire engines arriving or over the pandemonium of the crowd's shouting, talking and gasps. No one notices anything happening behind them. The Germans slump to the ground like flour sacks dropped from a truck bed. Drago has shot each twice, double taps, so quickly that the second of the two barely reacted. One shot, up, in the back of the head, and the second at the base of the neck, angled downward. With the about simultaneous thuds of their bodies, Drago glances around, seeing that no one has seen or heard anything other than the commotion, jerks the bodies back into the doorway and darkness. He leaves, walking close to the backs of the crowd to where the two Russians are standing, at the back of the mob scene at one end of the crowd, watching the people in front of them but more the entrance of the hotel.

  Drago takes the same two quick shots each, same angles. They too drop. The pops of the two double taps not heard. However, the spray of blood and bone seems to float in the air above the back edge of the crowd. Most dissipates unnoticed except for some of it that a few people seemingly wipe the dampness from their necks or shoulders as if it were a mist or spray of water. They will determine otherwise in minutes.

  Drago is gone like a ghost in a nightmare. He melts away behind vehicles and crowd, moves unnoticed up to the corner, then around it as if a fleeting shadow. Unnoticed except for one person, who follows at a careful distance.

  Marnee, hugging building walls, thinks. This is the Italian's work and this man will lead me to him. And to Pisces.

  Rocco, confidant that Drago has dispensed of the Germans and Russians watches from the window of Dee's room. A table lamp lit as it was when he entered, as well as the door being relocked so it too will be as she left it. He sees that the circus is ending outside. Nothing damaged he's sure except inside of the hallway janitorial closets, and a little smoke on two floors. He hears the stomping of firemen's feet and their shouting as they ensure all is well on this floor. The alarms have ceased. The hotel night manager is on the PA system encouraging people to come back inside, and return to their rooms or take advantage of free drinks for all in any of the bars or lounges. Rocco goes over his plan in his mind. He will wait in Dee's clothes closet and when she returns, kill her quickly and quietly thus getting rid of the last of those that can hold a hammer over his head. The last that can ruin his and Pisces' retirement ... and Drago's, maybe. He would like to take his time and
make it hurt, but he still has the Jews to terminate.

  The two Irishmen, Sean and Danny, are quick to return to the bar and claim their reward for the inconvenience. The hotel's offer is being taken advantage of by a staggering number of guests. Fire officials are still roaming the building. Some police. Staff has returned and all are busy cleaning up, serving, with a few foolishly running about with little direction, jabbering about the events.

  The Israelis, Itzak and Namir have returned to the lobby. They stand in a far corner, not interested in the mollifying beverages. Itzak whispers, "The Irishmen are back inside. Not the Russians. And I don't see ..." He stops as both spot Dee reentering. She and the well dressed American gentleman that was with her earlier enter the elevator. Itzak continues, "Well, I do now. As I said earlier, that escort has CIA written across his back like American footballers."

  Namir replies, "Yes, and watch. It'll stop on four. This is getting interesting, and also for our two Irish friends. We and they are the only ones in here who seem to be watching that duo."

  "You're correct, friend. It's stopped on four and I sense..." For the second time within minutes, Itzak's comment is interrupted. This time from screams and shouting from outside the hotel. Guests are now surging to get inside, while other curiosity seekers fight their way out. The few policemen inside race toward the entrance. The circus has erupted again and the clamor inside is momentarily silenced when a guest races in shouting, "There are dead men all over the street. A murderer is loose."

  The surge both ways continues along with dozens of screaming women, and the shouts of police warning, "STAY INSIDE. PLEASE. STAY INSIDE, " over again and again.

  Itzak and Namir calmly fight their way through the crowding, shoving and pushing flow. They arrive outside, ignore the police shouts and work their way to the edges of now both frightened and excited guests, passersby, and lingering curiosity seekers. They nod to one another, splitting up. Each goes to the crowd gathering around each site despite police warnings and cordoning. Moments after each has seen the Russians and Germans, they find one another. Itzak shakes his head, "It's the two Russians. Assassinated. Professional."