Ded Reckoning

by William F Lee

  Hunter leads Marnee to a spot he found on one of his previous reconnaissance's. It provides excellent cover and has an after-mission egress that will take them down and around the town and to the bay with little chance of being seen. They settle in, uncomfortably but hidden by the undergrowth. They see the four-door black Mercedes has not been put away in the garage. It's parked and they see the young man washing it with the older gentleman supervising. No roadster or Benito in sight. Nor is anyone else at the moment.

  Hunter whispers, "As planned, we sit and watch. Go in tonight, late, and take 'em out."

  "The women?"

  "Not if we can avoid it at no risk, but we have to go in tonight. Before any chance that Pisces and Rocco institute better security. They have nothing but their belief in the serenity of this place and the covertness of their relocation at the moment. That won't last. Pisces is too paranoid."

  "No witnesses."

  "None. Then I go to the study, pick up what I need and I'll set the timer. We'll be long gone down the hill. Possibly on the boat and gone."

  They both take a sip of water and settle.

  Pisces and Rocco wander out to poolside. Drinks in hand. The chaise lounges and small tables have been arranged by the villa's staff, with Rocco's supervision, to accommodate the four of them. Rocco looks up to ensure they will have good sun to tan, or dry themselves should they swim.

  Roberto Catalano eases out onto the veranda and says, "Rocco, now we start the rest of our lives. No more work." He grins and asks before the big Italian can answer, "How was your surprise?"

  "It is possible she will killa me before the day is out. She is the besta fu ... " he looks around quickly, catches himself for a few reasons. One, the ladies inside the house are about to come outside. He grins, "besta time ol' Rocco has had in longa time, and she is almost as beautiful as Signora Russo, your Chiarina." He continues, "Ahhh, Bossa, I want to thank you with all ..."

  "No thanks necessary. What are friends for? Let's enjoy and speaking of that, they're about to join us."

  "Finally," Rocco mutters. Then quickly adds, "Signora Russo is a classy lady. Beautiful. More so than all the others."

  "Yeah, and has one helluva lot of moola and property, and a switch-hitter for a friend. Did Estella mention that while she was jumping your bones a little while ago?"

  "No, Bossa. Not exactly."

  "Not exactly? What the hell does that mean?"

  "Well, yes. She say ... ahhh, I don't care unless ... unless ..."

  "Unless it includes me? Right?"

  Rocco nods his head. Pauses. "Right. Then I no interfere. Go back to Adrianna and perhaps to Rome."

  "Hmmmm? Well, here we go."

  The bikini clad Chiarina and Estella saunter up, sunglasses propped on their heads and with glasses of white wine in hand. Chiarina asks, "What was that you were saying?"

  "Nothing important."

  Pecks on the cheek for both men follow, and all four fumble around a tad to get seated properly. Sunglasses pop down, bra tops come off and lotion goes on. Roberto and Rocco remain sitting as the gals lie-out, face up. The arrangement is such that the two men face one another with the women stretched out between them. The sipping of wine and conversation begins. With a glance Pisces and Rocco can see Mount Etna in the distance and in the other direction the town and the Ionian coast. However, their fascination is focused on the four Etna's and two coves sprawled before them.

  Seventy-five yards away, Hunter and Marnee watch. Gloves on. Masks on. No chance of a glint being emitted and seen. It's hot and the climb was steep. They take a sip of water. Their conversation is whispered and infrequent. It's all business. However expert and professional, their minds still drift momentarily on occasion to allow individual justifications to wander across the frontal lobe. Also at times they flicker with glimpses of the past: OSS, Assisi, CIA, and Mossad. Old world. New world. But in the end it is nothing more complex than what it is and what they are. Ambush. Hunters stalking their prey.

  Chiarina moves first from the chaise lounge. She stands, tugs at her bikini bottom, steps out of it, and then drops it on the seat. She saunters to the edge of the pool, sits, then slips into the aqua blue water and breast strokes to the middle. Stands, turns and faces the group and shouts, "Roberto, come join me. Everyone. Let us have a water fight."

  Pisces stands, strips off his trunks and makes a shallow dive from the edge and comes up under his woman. Stands, lifts Chiarina on his shoulders and then dumps her backwards into the water with a splash and her high-pitched scream of profanity. As is everything in his life, he sets the tone. Others follow or they ...

  Estella follows, however she takes longer in depositing her bikini bottom and lingers at the edge of the pool so all see the full magnificence of her natural red hair while inhaling deeply, breasts heaving like full moons rising. Then she jumps, squealing into the cool water. Rocco waits, taking in Stel's beauty, then follows suit minus his trunks as well.

  Immediately, Roberto and Rocco lift the women onto their shoulders, and the water wrestling begins. After several engagements, they change partners and continue the playful battle. Finally, Chiarina shoulders Estella and they fight Pisces lifted by Rocco. Rocco is noticeably uncomfortable with the arrangement. However, it is difficult to know who is enjoying the match more. Pisces with his groping of Estella as they wrestle or her with Chiarina's neck twisting and wrenching, tucked hard between her thighs. Or Chiarina's joy that is abundant as she grips Estella's thighs with her hands adding to the churning. It is mischievous foreplay which Pisces wins of course, and he ends the play by wrestling a flailing Estella off Chiarina's shoulders, dumping her head first into the pool. Then he dives off Rocco's shoulders in the water and on top of Estella beneath the surface pretending to dunk her. Chiarina joins them in the beneath the surface aquatics. It is what it is. The game is over. When the three surface, the women hug one another for longer than a moment in recognition of their loss, or was it a win?

  The final water battle and dunking is followed with healthy laps by all, except for Rocco. He stands leaning at pool's edge with a bent arm resting on the Cool-Crete decking. Laps complete, all pull themselves up and out of the pool and return to their respective lounges. Rocco stands at his chaise, watches, wonders about what he's witnessed, as Pisces moves next to him, staring at him. Then they towel-off, step back into their trunks saying nothing and stretch out. Chiarina and Estella, finish their glasses of wine, then sit and lay-out, face up, to dry in the warm Sicilian afternoon sun. No toweling. No wet bathing suits. Pisces calls to the old woman in the house to bring more wine. She appears with two bottles. Opened. One of white, one of red. One in each hand and tries not to notice the younger, better endowed ladies stretched out, drying.

  Pisces gets up and pours for the gals. It's polite. And of course provides another up-close momentary glance at Estella, and eye contact. And with Chiarina as well of course.

  Rocco's head rises from his chaise lounge and catches this foreplay once again. His vibes jingle sour notes. No MacBeer. Not a word from the master prick. Now this.

  He sits up, reaches for the bottle of red wine and offers it first to Pisces.

  Pisces nods in acceptance, offering his glass, as he sits on his chaise glimpsing directly into Rocco's eyes. He knows.

  Above the villa in the now sticky heat, Hunter whispers, "Great bods."

  Marnee stares up at Hunter, says, "You keeping a close watch are you? I'm going to stay down here and rest for a short while longer. Okay?"

  "Do it. Not much for you to see up here."

  "But for you, it is good?"

  "Yeah. The best."

  "Be patient. Better is coming."

  He twists around, looks down at Marnee and sees her eyes sparkling beneath the face mask which is straining from a grin as well. She's right. They're not in her class.

  "I can see you agree," and she gives him a gentle shove back into position.

  Before turning his head, he whispers, "Marn
ee, you are dazzling. You are the reason cavemen chiseled on walls."

  Zachary answers the phone on the first ring. Responds, "Zachary."

  Then hears the voice on the other end say, "I've got him. Hog-tied. What next?"

  "Where?"

  "The Bahamas ... Nassau. Plush, plush house."

  "Good work. Now, give him a choice. He writes a note and takes the pills you hand him, or you kill him and make it look like it's self-inflicted."

  "That's it?"

  "That's it. Tell him what to write. As we discussed."

  "Done."

  Zachary orders, "I want a confirmation call."

  "Yes, sir."

  Joe Zachary puts the receiver down, leans back in his chair, and mutters, "Too good for the son-of-a-bitch."

  Hunter tugs at Marnee as the sun begins to slip behind Etna. Motions her to raise up. Whispers to her, "The gals have gone into the house."

  She scrambles to a sitting position. "The guys aren't moving."

  "Nope, and look at the activity at the garage. The kid and the old woman are standing around the car. They're waiting for something. I got a hunch and possibly we get a break. Our agenda may be goin' forward a few notches."

  They sip some much needed water in this heat. They are perspiring heavily in these not made for summer outfits. They continue their ambush watch. A half-hour passes and then the two women come out onto the veranda. Talk with Pisces and Rocco, give them pecks on the cheek, and go to the Mercedes. The back doors are open and waiting. They ease in, Chiarina first, both chattering excitedly it seems. Once in, Estella leans over and kisses Chiarina on the cheek as the boy closes the door.

  The old woman gets in front, and the young man climbs behind the wheel. He eases the black sedan out of the parking area and onto the street heading for town.

  Hunter whispers, "Everyone except the old man and those two are gone. I'd bet they'll be gone for hours, two or three. We're goin' to do it now."

  "In daylight?"

  "Twilight. Fitting. Those two are relaxed. Way off guard, although there was some silent shit goin' on down there. Gotta be real careful."

  "What silent ... stuff?"

  "Just something about the way Rocco was acting when they came out of the pool. C'mon, no one will see us. Let's get it done."

  Hunter picks the shutter catch easily and finds the window lock still out of order. He peeks in first. Finds it clear, then climbs inside. Takes his weapon from his rear waistband. Goes to the door, cracks it and steals a look into the kitchen and onto the veranda. Pisces and Rocco are still outside. He eases the door closed and returns to the window, motions Marnee inside. Once she's in the interior both replace their gloves and masks they had removed moving from the hill to the house. Marnee draws her weapon as well. He whispers, "Both outside," and they move quietly to the door. Hunter cracks the door and as he does he sees a body flash across the kitchen. He holds the door ajar as it is remaining motionless, listening. He hears the outer kitchen door open and when it closes he peers from the pantry door and sees the old man on the veranda talking and gesturing to Pisces. After several moments, Rocco and Pisces stand, and all three head for the kitchen. Hunter motions to Marnee with three fingers and a gesture toward them that the threesome is coming inside. He leaves the pantry door ajar, scarcely a whisper of enough to hear the three men enter the kitchen and Pisces speak.

  "Rocco, go with Carmen and see what the fuck he's jabbering about. While you're gone I'm going upstairs and take a real quick shower. Meet me in the study."

  "Yes, bossa. Can I take a quickie first? Doesn't sound like much. Shabby wiring he's found."

  "No, after."

  "How about after and before I meet with you?"

  "No, God dammit. See what this is about, and while there see if you can teach this idiot some language that we can understand when he's excited. Any language. I only hope a herd of elephants aren't charging us or that damn volcano isn't about to blow again. Besides, I want to make a call to our friend MacBeer with you present."

  "Okay, bossa." Then immediately says, "Let'sa go, Carmen."

  Hunter hears the shuffling of feet, and can see a flashing of bodies pass in front of the pantry door on their way. He hears the stomping of feet going up the stairs and the muffled voices of Rocco and the old man fading as they head outside.

  Hunter turns to Marnee, she nods as understanding what is happening. He whispers, "We'll take 'em in the study. C'mon."

  She whispers, "What about the wiring that was mentioned? Is that..."

  "No. Not a problem. I put in some dummy wiring leads to be found. A wiring mistake disguise in fact."

  She shakes her head in wonderment and they ease the pantry door open, whisk through the kitchen, down the tiled hall to the study, and in. It's huge. Desk facing the door, with its back to the veranda. Book lined shelves, some photos, but by and large oil paintings by the master, Pisces.

  They stand inside, Hunter whispers again, "We take out the first one that comes in, then wait for the other. Quick, no time for slow kill revenge."

  Hunter moves immediately to the desk, opens a drawer and pulls out the envelope he needs. Then he reaches in his pocket, removes the timer, sets it and places it behind some books on one of the shelves. Whispers to Marnee, "Got to do this on the front end. This could be close."

  "Do it."

  "Done."

  And they wait. Not long. Minutes.

  To them, their anticipatory breathing alone sounds like old steam engines climbing a grade let alone the sound of water running and shouting from the rear of the house. The passing minutes seem like a decade, a generation of operatives in ambush. Then the door bursts open and Pisces strides in to his desk, not sensing anything until he gets to the front of his mahogany display of wealth and power. He turns, reaches to his back. It's much too late a reaction. Marnee and Hunter both fire double taps. Pssffft...pssfft...pssfft...pssfft. Four hits. Two center mass, the heart. Two in the face. One at the bridge of the nose, the other in the forehead. Pisces' head snaps backward, then his body surges back to the desk. His waist hits the edge, head lurches backward again, then forward as he hits hard polished mahogany of the desk. He drops like a wet sandbag to the tile floor. Blood surging from his chest, face disfigured. Blood splattered on the desk top and the beautiful veranda windows behind. The phone receiver he had reached for in his hand, lies in his lap. The remainder of the instrument ripped from Pisces' desk, rests on the floor in front of the piece of furniture. First the drone of a dial tone, then the buzzing of the disconnect sounding loud enough for MacBeer to hear if he were listening.

  Then both hear the footsteps in the hallway.

  Hunter mutters, "Shit," and they turn as the door swings open.

  Rocco stands in the doorway, swimming trunks and barefoot, with a snub-nosed .38 revolver in his hand. All three fire at once. All get off two shots. All within nanoseconds of one another. Four shots silenced, two not. Marnee cries out, and spins to the study floor, close to Pisces. Two shots have hit her, both high. Hunter is not hit. Four shots hit Rocco. Two in the chest, center mass, heart shots. Two in the head, his forehead like two additional eyes.

  Rocco is thrown back through the study door, into the hallway, slammed against the beige plaster wall. He utters a mixture of a growl, a scream, and the gasping utterance of a huge sucking wound in the chest. Blood, brains, bone are splattered around the study door frame and on the hall wall behind. A red smear on the wall where Rocco hit, then trailing down to where he sits. Another sandbag. The snub-nosed .38, not a weapon of choice but probably necessity, unimaginably still is in his right hand. His head, face virtually gone, slumps to his left.

  Hunter checks the two of them in seconds, rips his mask from his head and turns to Marnee. Sees she's bleeding profusely. He gently but hurriedly takes off her mask. Checks for a pulse. Rips off his shirt. Tears it in two. And then its sleeves from the shirt. He stuffs a piece of the shirt into each of her gunshot wounds. Then wraps the shirt
sleeves as a binding around her body. Tying them tight, trying to apply as much pressure as possible. One shot high in her shoulder although serious is not deadly. The other a high chest wound is critical, probably fatal. He picks her up and cradles her in his arms, whispers, "Marnee. Marnee. Say something. C'mon darlin', hang tough. Say something. Please."

  She opens her eyes, mutters, "I love you, Hunter. I love you ..." and as she reaches up with one hand, says, "Oh, Hunter ..."

  She's interrupted by shouting. Hunter drops her from his arms, turns toward the door, weapon coming up.

  The old man is there and shouting, "I'm coming. I'm coming. Oh my God." He stops and steps over Rocco screaming, "I told you. I told you." Then the old man turns to face Hunter, double-barreled shotgun in hand, cocked.

  Hunter fires. Double tap again. Center mass. Forehead.

  Carmen is thrown back on top of Rocco. The shotgun clatters to the floor and both hammers fall. Two blasts, simultaneously. A few pellets hit Pisces, a couple catch Hunter's arm, some in the desk, a few in Marnee which add to her predicament. The lamp on the desk is blown off, but most of the twelve gauge buckshot hit and shatter the veranda windows behind the desk.