I Contadini (The Peasants)

by Lester S. Taube

“Too bad. He deserved worse. Doc, I have an important favor to ask of you, and I hope you understand me.”

  “I’ll surely try.”

  “Thanks. I imagine you’ve guessed that Auburn came here to kill me. That means someone told him where I am. Now, it certainly wasn’t you or perhaps ninety-nine percent of your staff, but I can’t afford the time to find out who. Are you reading me so far?”

  Hartmann’s face had turned red when he realized the truth of Dominic’s statement. Sparks of fury were now shooting from his eyes. “I read you very clearly. I should have my head examined for not having thought of it myself.”

  “Great. It saves a lot of embarrassment. First, please call your wife from this phone and say you have an emergency, that you won’t be home until very late. Second, I’m pulling out tonight. I’ll need everything to treat myself, plus instructions how to administer the drugs. Third, you’ll have to stay here with me until I leave.”

  Hartmann nodded. “I understand, Mr. Dee. I’ll try to uncover the leak myself and let our contact in Boston know.”

  He took up the phone, placed a call to his home, then gave the message as directed. He turned back to Dominic. “Perhaps I’d better order the drugs just before you leave. If I do so now, whoever is passing on information might add two and two.”

  “Good idea, Doc. Thanks. Now, how are you at checkers?”

  Dominic, fully dressed, stood at the window looking down at the practically deserted street. Nothing appeared suspicious. At exactly three o’clock a large Ford pulled up in front of the hospital, Bonny at the wheel. She got out to wave at his window. Dominic turned to the sleepy doctor seated on a chair.

  “So long, Doc, and thanks again.”

  Hartmann saluted with his usual V as Dominic picked up a suitcase and a cane and left the room. The drug given to him by the doctor directly before Bonny arrived was deadening almost all pain, so he hobbled without discomfort to the elevator and rode down to the ground floor. The desk nurse looked up with surprise. She opened her mouth to speak, but Dominic cut her short by waving a casual goodbye as he limped out to the car. Bonny helped him inside and took off at once.

  “Where to, Dom?” she asked.

  “Take a secondary road to Brattleboro, then head south.”

  “All right. Why don’t you lie down on the back seat?”

  “I will later on. Are you tired?”

  “No.”

  He brought one of her hands to his lips. “Thanks, Bonny. Like I said, you’re one helleva person.” Her eyes gleamed in the dark.

  It was midmorning when they stopped at a motel outside Hartford, Connecticut. Bonny settled Dominic in bed, gave him the various pills and shots provided by Hartmann, shut the curtains, then slipped into bed beside him. Dominic placed Auburn’s pistol under the pillow, and the two of them were asleep before the kiss they gave each other dried on their lips.

  She woke at four hour intervals to dispense the prescribed pills and shots over the protestations of Dominic. In late afternoon she went to the motel restaurant for trays of hot food. Dominic, finding himself to be famished, ate with gusto. Once finished, she helped him dress, paid the motel bill, and they drove off.

  In Hartford center city, she parked around the corner from an auto rental agency, walked to its office, and came out soon in a long Chrysler sedan. Stopping it behind the Ford, she transferred over Dominic and the luggage, then drove the Ford to an indoor parking garage. Placing it well in the rear, she locked the car, walked out to the street, and took a taxi back to the Chrysler. Flashing Dominic a smile at how well she was throwing off any possible pursuit, she climbed behind the wheel.

  They spent the evening in a small motel in Pennsylvania. Four days later, driving only a few hours at a time to prevent Dominic from becoming fatigued, they pulled into a plush motel on the ocean at Morehead City, North Carolina.

  When they went to bed that night, Dominic reached for her.

  “But Dom, your wounds,” she said, as his hands passed over her body.

  “Oh well, I’ll think about them afterwards.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Two days after Michael’s interment, Anthony and Paul went their separate ways, Anthony back to his university now in full swing and Paul to his duties with the War Plans Division. At the same time, Carol and Rose drove Eleanor to an exclusive private school near Elk Bend for her senior year of studies. The next day Carol flew to Houston to settle affairs in preparation of moving back to Chicago. She estimated it would take a month or so.

  Once Carol left, Vito loaded Rose, their two sons, Ettore, and Vincent in his plane for a run to New York to drop off Vincent, then on to Boston.

  Rose got the boys settled back in school, Bob at Harvard and Bert at Lawrenceville, while Vito reorganized his office, still strained from the impact of administering the company affairs from both Boston and Chicago simultaneously.

  Ettore donned old clothes to putter around the Donini estate, working with the gardeners one day, then the chauffeur the next. He found a stable wall which needed repair, and was in seventh heaven bringing in a stone mason to remodel it, climbing on the scaffold to chip and set the fine gray Vermont stone with him. Finished in three days, the mason brought along two bottles of homemade wine to celebrate the enjoyable job and agreeable bonus. That evening Ettore fell asleep in his chair while watching television. Rose smiled across him at Vito, who smiled back.

  In early October, they flew to Washington and sat in a bright Pentagon auditorium watching proudly as Paul received his general’s stars and another oak leaf cluster to his Distinguished Service Medal. They celebrated with a supper at a fine restaurant in central Washington.

  After they had dined, Ettore sat back with a sigh of satiation. “I always eat too much when the food is this good.” He brushed a few crumbs to one side and Rose, Vito and Paul smiled at this signal that Ettore was about to speak of the old days. “You know, Paul, when you were a little fellow I bought you a set of toy soldiers for Christmas.”

  “I remember that, Papa.”

  “Well, your mother raised the roof about that. She wanted you to be a lawyer.”

  “Whatever made you buy those soldiers?” asked Paul. “I never asked for them.”

  “I saw you looking at a set in a store window, and if ever a boy had a yen for something, it was you hoping for them.” He brushed together a few more crumbs as he thought over his next words. “I’ve never wanted you to be a soldier, though. Somehow soldiers tend to find the world too small sooner or later. Maybe it’s because they realize there is so much to see that every place they go seems smaller than it really is. But I’ve always been proud of your determination. It’s taken us far apart at times, but you made the grade all by yourself, and that’s pretty good considering your grandfathers couldn’t read or write and your own parents were dandelion wine types.”

  “Were you really dandelion wine drinkers, Papa?” asked Vito.

  “Sure, every Italian immigrant family was. It wasn’t good wine, but it was cheap. All you needed was a yard or empty lot filled with weeds and enough children to pick them.”

  Paul signaled the waiter to bring another bottle of wine. “Talking about that dandelion wine made me thirsty. Papa, where is Dom now?”

  “Bonny phoned that he was down south somewhere. Dom must have told her to watch what she said because she didn’t give any precise location.”

  “Exactly what happened?”

  “Some gunman tried to kill him in the hospital. As sick as he was, Dom got out of bed and overpowered him. He was hired by a penny ante gangster from New York. Vince said he would gather information about him, but I smell the hand of Bonazzi at work.”

  “You and Vito and Vince shouldn’t run about like you do, then. I mentioned to everyone last month that I felt Bonazzi would strike back. Don’t you people take any precautions?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Vito. “That’s one reason Papa came east with us. We decided that if we laid low, things would cool down. We�
��re going to the Bahamas from here for a couple of weeks of rest. At home I have men watching for strangers, and Vince is having his law secretary pick him up and escort him home each day. The attack against Dom gave us quite a start, but Vince seems to believe Bonazzi is only after him. He probably thinks Dom was responsible for his son’s death. We told Dom to leave the country as soon as he can travel.”

  Paul lit a cheroot as he absorbed all this, then he shook his head. “I hope you’re right, Vito, but for the past twenty years I’ve been exposed to a completely different philosophy. If the enemy is permitted to attack one of your people without retribution or being forced to smoke the peace pipe, then you can make book he’s going to attack another one sooner or later.”

  Ettore said, “Vito has been trying to get someone to pass the word to Bonazzi that his son committed suicide at the end, and that as far as we are concerned, the books are wiped clean.”

  “Do you really believe that will stop Bonazzi, Papa?”

  “Not in the least.”

  Vito and Rose appeared shaken at his remark. “Papa,” exclaimed Rose. “I didn’t know you felt like that.”

  “Bonazzi made it very clear during our talk in my office that he prized his son to the point of wiping us all out to protect him. That was normal. But when he threatened to include the women and children, it indicated that he might be mentally unstable. I think he was carried away when he said that, but I’m convinced he is capable of seeking revenge. Somewhere along the line he may believe he’s got his pound of flesh. I don’t know when that will be, but I think he would be satisfied with Dom. If he can’t get Dom, it’s either Vince or me.”

  “He could consider me a good target too, Papa,” said Vito.

  “Not now, Vito. You are as much a son to me as the others, but to the old Italian mentality, the relationship must be by blood. He would attack you only if you defended us very strongly or if you were the means of drawing us out into the open.”

  Paul looked at his father with admiration. It struck him again what a helleva commanding general the old man would have been had he chosen the military. “What do you intend to do about all this?” he asked.

  “There’s not much I can do, Paul. I have the choice of a .... what do you soldiers call it .... pre-emptive strike, but attacking a man like Bonazzi is like declaring war on China. I don’t have the men, nor the amount of money necessary, nor the actual know-how to fight Bonazzi. I just have to wait and hope he has a change of heart. I did have a talk with a Lieutenant McPherson of the Chicago police force before we left. He said he would get a message to Bonazzi similar to the one Vito is hoping to pass along.”

  “It’ll be Vince,” said Paul.

  Ettore sighed. “I must agree with you. I’ve tried to get him to leave the country too, but he won’t do it. However, he has secretly been assigned a detective as bodyguard. The next few months should tell the tale.”

  Paul saw them off in a taxi to their hotel, then started walking down the street, a fresh lit cheroot in his mouth. He felt a glow as he caught the reflection of his uniform in store windows. It was more difficult to see the stars on his shoulders than his former eagles, for the stars were pinned to the center of his epaulets while the eagles had been positioned at the ends. But he could feel them there. Not in weight, but in the knowledge and satisfaction. Even though he knew they would eventually come, it was still hard to believe. All of a sudden, less than a minute to be correct, he had risen into the most select world a man could dream of. He would now have to ride a desk for a couple of years, then he would get a division of fifteen thousand professionals, regulars who knew a good thing when they saw it and weren’t afraid to stick their necks out to get it.

  He looked at his watch as he turned in to the entrance of the Mayflower Hotel. Ten-thirty. He took the elevator to the upper levels and slipped a key in the lock of a suite of rooms. The door was abruptly drawn open. Kristine stood there smiling.

  She nodded formally. “Herr General, be so kind as to enter.”

  Paul stepped inside and clicked his heels. “Gnädige Frau Baronin,” he said with the heaviest German accent he could muster. “I have come to claim my spoils of war.”

  She laughed as she came into his arms and kissed him. “And you had better take them quickly, my general, or they will spoil from neglect.”

  She helped him off with his jacket, took his cap, and stowed them carefully in the closet. “How was the dinner, Paul?”

  “Very good. But we all ate more than we should.”

  “He is a handsome man, your father. And your sister, a beautiful woman.”

  “Were you seated far behind them in the auditorium?”

  “Six or seven rows. They were so very proud. Your father did not move a finger during the presentation.”

  He drew her down on a sofa and against one shoulder. “It would have been a perfect day if you had joined us for dinner.”

  “Not now, mein lieber Paul. They would still remember that I have led you to sin these many years. Had I not come into your life, you would have given your father proper grandchildren and the others a sister.”

  He kissed her lips, feeling again the rush of pulse-hammering excitement that only she could arouse. Her hand caressed his cheek, then slid to his chest, softly squeezing his paps, then over his stomach to his loins. Her lips opened under his. Soon she pulled away and stood up, her face flushed, nostrils flaring. He looked up at her, drinking in every line of her tall, full body, the high, firm breasts revealed in naked detail under a sheer silk blouse. She drew him to his feet, and led him into the bedroom.

  Later, lying in bed, sated, she rolled over to the bedstand and lit a cheroot, puffing away to get it burning evenly before passing it to Paul. She leaned across him, her breasts near his lips, to position an ashtray for his use. He kissed her paps. She hugged him tightly, then nestled her head on his shoulder as he puffed at his cigar.

  “Each time you make love to me, Paul, and then go away, I feel you inside me for weeks afterwards.”

  “That would seem to be the basis of a perfect relationship - to make love three or four times a year.”

  She gave her clear, full-throated laugh. “I assure you that I would be more content to have you within me twice as much and give up half the aftermath sensations.”

  He chuckled. “I need a slide rule to figure that out.”

  She jabbed him in the stomach. “You are an incurable anti-romanticist.” She felt his abdomen. “You never gain weight. Are you eating well, my love?”

  “I guess so. I never take notice, except for spreads like tonight.”

  “The problem of the family, it is serious, nein?”

  “Yes, very serious. Dominic is in hiding, and I’m sure there will be more trouble before it settles down.”

  “Poor Carol. She must be broken. To lose both son and husband.”

  “I’m sure she is. But she hides it well. I’ve never considered her as anything more than a wealthy, spoiled woman who got whatever she wanted from life. But I must say she has shown a great deal more character than I suspected she had. Her daughter is just as solid.”

  “Oh, Dummkopf that I am,” exclaimed Kristine. “I should be whipped for neglect.” Switching on a bed lamp, she got out of bed, walking with her loose stride into the living room. Paul eyed her naked form with a sensual pang at how utterly desirable she was. She returned a few moments later with a large envelope in her hand. “Look, Paul, pictures of Ingrid which arrived just today.”

  He sat up at once. They had been taken that summer at the estate near Frankfurt and at the Bodensee on the Swiss border. His breath caught at one of her on horseback. “Ah,” he said with pleasure. “God, she’s lovely. She is exactly like you when we first met.”

  She kissed his ear. “You are a flatterer, Liebchen. She is many times more beautiful. And ten years younger than I when we met. But look at that seat on the horse. Is it not wonderful?”

  “Absolutely. You must have taught her.
My, she has grown.” He selected one in a bathing suit. “Look at that can. If that isn’t the splitting image of yours, I’ve been deceived these many years.”

  Kristine pushed him over on his back and poked a finger in his ribs again. “You are horrible.” Lying on her back beside him, she held up another picture for inspection. It was a close-up. “Her hair - we take turns brushing it each night. One hundred times.”

  He gazed long at the picture. Something stirred inside him. An awareness of who this human being in the picture really was. Suddenly he felt possessive, protective. A flush of pride swept through him. For the first time he experienced the awesome love that a parent could have for his child. She had probably longed for this love all her life, but he had not responded like he should. Pangs of remorse, of guilt, soured his new found joy.

  “I plan to come to Europe for a Christmas vacation in two months. Where can we meet?”

  “Davos, Switzerland would be good. She has become an expert skier and told me she would prefer to go there.”

  “Does she like her college?”

  “Yes, except she finds the courses already too easy. Those Swiss schools are playgrounds more than centers of learning.”

  “Then why did she select it?”

  “The skiing. She wants two years in the mountains, then she plans to transfer to a university in Germany for her political science degree.”

  “That’s a strange course for a girl - political science.”

  “It is because of you. Loving you has made her interested in the places you have visited. She wants the opportunity of knowing them too.”

  He placed the photos on the bed stand and switched off the light. Turning to Kristine, he took her in his arms. “Come, my darling, there is something more to be done before we go to sleep.”

  She laughed as she came swiftly against him.

  Vincent shook a teaspoon of jam on his slice of toast while reading an article in the morning newspaper.

  “Be careful, Judge,” said Bernard Levine, his law secretary, from across the table. “You’re going to have a lap full of jam if you don’t give up either toast or the paper.”