“Hi Tom,” Barbara said flirtatiously. Tom nodded in response without acknowledging the presence of the other girls seated on the table.
Nina looked up – half upset – half happy. The other girls on the table left in envy. “He didn’t even notice me,” Barbara rolled her eyes.
Tom sat on the table like a zombie. “Okay! So I don’t know where to start,” Tom said. Nina smiled.
“You have all the girls drooling over you Tom. Why bother with me?”
Tom barely acknowledged her statement. His mind was fixated on an apology. “I’m sorry for my rude abrupt hang-up earlier today,” Tom replied. Nina ignored his statement too. Every eye in the cafeteria was on them. She looked at him – Tom Olivetti, son of a millionaire, barely ever goes to class, but yet manages to get good grades. He was charming and had a reckless appreciation for art.
“So are you going to stare at me all day?” Nina asked. “If I can, yea,” Tom laughed.
“Well, I don’t mind being the most hated girl in school,” Nina joked.
“Hated girl? Why?” Tom asked. Nina gazed at the other students in the cafeteria. The girls were jealously staring at her.
“Don’t mind them,” Tom laughed as he took a bite of his sandwich.
“You know, I’m curious, I never noticed you till I bumped into you. Why?” Tom asked.
“Is that your best pick up line?” she asked intentionally disregarding his question. Tom chuckled.
“No. I thought I’d give it a try,” Tom replied, trying to play along with Nina’s humor. There was a long awkward silence.
“Well, Tom, it was nice meeting you,” Nina said as she gathered her belongings.
“We should do this again. I’m having a party at my house, you should come,” Tom replied casually. Nina nodded in response.
“Uh I’ll let you know,” she said with a smile as she walked away. She was flushed. Nervous. Tom observed as some of her friends stood up to follow her along. He couldn’t explain what he was feeling. Girls had come and gone in his life. They were just means to an end. But Nina!
“She is perfect”
8
Tom’sinsomnia was getting worse. His medications weren’t helping. It was six in the morning and his brain was fogged. His headaches were starting to emerge. The man he encountered at his father’s parking lot had become the new recurrent character in his dream.
He was anxious. He couldn’t wait till Jack and Dean were done with their assignment. He couldn’t wait till the kill was confirmed. The possibility of his nightmares and insomnia ending thrilled him.
A lot was on his mind; his temporary relocation to Illinois, his party, Don Olivetti’s investigation of the device, and most of all, Nina Owen – the only person who wasn’t going to be at his party.
He pushed his comforter away, put on his bathroom slippers and walked to the bathroom. He brushed his hand through his hair and sprinkled water on his face like he did every morning. He then walked back to his bedroom. He stared around his bedroom, bored, looking for something to do. He finally decided to search for the device he hid in his shoe. He got the device out of his shoe then rushed to plug it into his computer. He waited a couple of minutes for the computer to recognize and reinstall the device software, and then turned up the volume.
He was shocked. He turned down the volume to avoid getting attention from people walking by his room. He took his headphones, plugged it in, and then turned the volume up again.
It sounded like Don Olivetti hadn’t given up on the search. He could hear people, men, to be precise, talking amongst themselves. He could still hear them. They hadn’t destroyed the device. It only meant that Don Olivetti wasn’t afraid of law enforcement.
“But who did this?” a man said.
“Don’t ask me! I don’t know!” another replied.
“Gosh I don’t know how he expects us to find who planted this!” another voice said.
“We have to. If not, the wrong person will be accused. We might all be the fall guys!” another man said
“Just shut the fuck up! Nobody’s going to die! If anything, we will pin this on some one who doesn’t matter,” a man replied. There was a loud bang. It sounded like a fight had started.
The arguments went on for about twenty minutes. Tom couldn’t understand what was going on. One thing was for sure—someone was hurt.
Jack and Dean were seated in a black Cadillac Deville, watching out for the man. Their job was to get more information about the others and kill the man. It wasn’t too hard to find a man who thought he was invincible. They had gotten sources from different people and found out where he lived.
Jack was seated in the passenger’s seat of the car. He was in a state of cognitive dissonance. He couldn’t imagine taking another person’s life. He pondered about why he took the job as Tom’s bodyguard; financial security and loyalty to the mafia. He never thought he’d end up being a hitman – a killer – an assassin. Self defense was different from preempted murder.
Dean had earphones stuck in his ears, jamming to some of his favorite tunes. He seemed totally relaxed with the idea of murder. Of course, he had been with the family longer, but his lack of remorse or empathy bothered him. He nodded his head in rhythm as his classical music played.
He grabbed his binoculars then glanced through the scopes to watch everyone walking in and out of the apartment building. Still, there was no sign of the man. He wound down the car window and spat his gum, he then reached into his other pocket to get another. He glanced at Jack. He looked sick.
“Cheer up boy!” Dean said to Jack. Jack glanced at Dean in disgust.
“What will anyone gain from killing this person?” Jack whispered, intentionally.
“Sorry I didn’t get that,” Dean replied.
“I said what’s anyone going to gain from this guy’s death? He can easily be put behind bars. We can frame him for something, then call the police – easy,” Jack replied.
“I thought we ended this conversation. Man up. Whomever employed him has the power to get him out of jail. So what’s the point of framing someone who will eventually get out of jail then come back to finish his job?” Dean replied.
“It’s a dog eat dog world man,” Dean added.
“That’s different man. You should think this through. If we get caught by the police we will end up behind bars,” Jack replied.
“What the fuck! Are you stupid? Why will we get caught in the first place? And have you forgotten that the Olivetti family has all law enforcements in their pockets?” Dean replied. There was a long silence. Dean had countered all Jack’s points.
“Look if we don’t kill this guy, he’ll kill the boss or the boss’s son, who we vowed to protect. What use are we if Tom dies?” Dean added. Jack stared deeper into space. Dean always had a way of seeming right even when he was wrong.
“Taking orders from a seventeen year old…” Jack mumbled. Dean looked towards the apartment building, trying his best to ignore Jack’s whining.
“I have to call Tom and tell him how things are going,” Dean said as he picked up his cell phone. He dialed Tom’s number. It rang then went to voicemail. He dialed Tom’s number again.
“Pick up!” Dean said to himself.
“Hey how’s it going Dean?” Tom finally said.
“Fine! What took you so long?” Dean asked.
“Uhm nothing!” Tom said trying not to tell Dean about the device issues at Don Olivetti’s place.
“Okay. I called to tell you how things are going,” Dean said.
“Yeah…” Tom replied
“The man’s name is Purio Maccuzo. He is discreet and prefers a life of solitude. No one will miss him. And Uhm, to do this job, we’re going to need more guys. Just in case,” Dean said.
“That’s okay. Call Sara’s guards, she won’t need them for now. Mom and Francesca’s guards will protect her,” Tom replied.
“Okay Tom,”
“What else?” Tom asked.
&n
bsp; “Nothing much. Just that big ‘J’ here is a little weary,” Dean replied.
“Deal with it!” Tom said impatiently then hung up. Dean sighed.
It was 8:00pm on Friday. Walter Olivetti’s home was filled with cars. Guards monitored the surveillance cameras relentlessly, and others mingled with friends and family in civilian clothes. The goal was to make the atmosphere as friendly and free as possible—like a normal American home. The garden lights were on. Music filled the air. The speakers blew out rhythmic vibrations as people danced and drank. Bernard was overwhelmed.
“Hey don’t touch that!” Bernard yelled at a girl holding a three thousand dollar vase carelessly.
“Relax!” Tom said, amused. Just then, someone broke a glass at the other end of the living area.
“Like you said ‘relax’, nothing much can happen. That’s a thousand dollar vase sir,” Bernard said with sarcasm in his voice as he rushed to clean up the broken glass.
Everything seemed to be going fine. Francesca, Tom’s sister, was doing a great job hosting the party. Tom was on his bed staring straight into space, waiting to hear from Dean and Jack. He also kept an ear out for any conversation going on at Don Olivetti’s place. Thanks to the noise from the party, no one could hear whatever was going on in his room.
The house was packed. The music had gotten louder. Donna, Francesca’s friend, walked into the party dressed in Jean shorts and a pink top. Her thin brunette hair had a firm bounce on her shoulders.
“Hi girls!” Donna said, trying to hug as many friends as possible.
“What took you so long?” Francesca’s group of friends asked.
“Stuck in traffic! Didn’t plan my time well,” she replied with a smile.
“Hope I haven’t missed much?” Donna asked. She looked around for Tom. He was nowhere to be seen.
“No you haven’t missed much,” Francesca replied with a fake smile. She had little patience for girls obsessed with her brother, Tom.
“If you’re looking for my brother, he is indisposed at the moment. He might come downstairs soon,” Francesca added then walked away.
“Donna!” Emily yelled spotting her from afar.
“Oh hey. How’re you?” Donna asked.
“Buzzed! I hope Tom comes down soon. He can’t throw a party this expensive and not attend,”
Dean and Jack sighted Purio Maccuzo. He was wearing brown corduroy pants with a black leather Jacket. He walked briskly with his head down, like he was running or hiding from something. Dean called Tom’s cell immediately.
“Hello,” Tom said.
“Yes boss. He’s on sight,” Dean said as he brought out his nine millimeter with his other hand.
“Ok. Is he dead yet?” Tom asked without an ounce of emotion.
“No not yet boss, we’re going in,” Dean replied.
“Make sure he feels pain before he dies. I wish I was there, but this party is our alibi…if I’m here, the assumption is you’re here also. Make him beg till he can’t beg anymore,”
“I’ll make sure of it,” Dean said with an evil smile on his face.
“And dispose all evidence well,” Tom added then hung up.
Dean watched as the man walked into his apartment building. Seconds later, he could see him through the window with his binoculars. Dean signaled to Jack who signaled to Sara’s two bodyguards who were in another car. Dean checked his gun for bullets, released the magazine then fixed it back. He drilled a silencer to his gun. Jack did the same. They then wore their black leather gloves. Dean adjusted his hair in the mirror. Jack gazed at him in disgust. He was appalled by the excitement Dean was having.
“You’re checking yourself in the mirror for a kill? You look like a fucking nutsack!” Jack blurted out.
“I have to look good all the time Jack. I advise you do the same. You never know who’s watching,” Dean joked as he got out of the car. The four guards got out of their cars, all dressed alike as they walked to the building. No one noticed them.
“Apartment 104,” Dean said, pointing to the man’s door.
Back home, Tom’s anxiety was heightening. His fury was skyrocketing. He paced around his room nervously. “Purio Maccuzo,”
“How dare he try to kill my father and still have the guts to tell me?” he thought to himself. He was burning in anger. He wished he could kill him by himself. At last, tonight, it will all be over.
He still had to stop every future assassination attempt. The pleasure of one vendetta, was enough to make him sleep the next day. He could still her the conversations Don Olivetti’s guards were having on his computer. All of a sudden, there was loss in frequency. It was like someone had finally disconnected the device from the other side. No sound. Static noise.
Tom stared at it, trying to find out what was wrong. Nothing looked wrong or maybe…
Don Olivetti was impatient. He couldn’t wait to find out. Information from that meeting was too important to be heard by anyone. No one actually knew he killed little Pablo except his family. The Sanchez’s suspect him, but had no proof. With proof they’ll have a reason to attack back. The only reason why Walter and his family didn’t die during the assassination attempt was because the Mexican Cartels were playing games – It was a warning to instill fear – to start a war among all mob families.
If the FEDS had the information, they’d finally have a reason to put the entire Olivetti family behind bars.
“A day and a half and nothing is done!” Don Olivetti yelled in anger. He smashed the device into pieces.
“I have instilled enough fear into the person listening,” he said to one of his men.
“I’m sure it was one of Walter’s guards! No one here, under my watch, has the guts,” Don Olivetti yelled. His guards smiled in relief as the thought of their temporary existential circumstance was confirmed.
“No rat will be spared. They’ll all be killed!” He said as he pounded his fist on the table.
9
Purio Maccuzo,a half Italian and half Mexican immigrant from Mexico, switched on the television in his apartment. He scanned through a couple of channels then stopped on a local news channel.
He was a brash looking man in his late thirties. He had multiple scars on his face. His skin was so rough, it could be a nail trimmer.
He walked into the kitchen, removed the gloves from his hands then washed his bloody hands in the sink. Thoughts of the person he had just killed ran through his mind. He was a master of torture and a skillful assassin. He was the best of the best. Drug lords and mafia bosses hired him because he wasn’t a person to take sides.
“Olivetti’s boy has some guts!” he thought. He remembered his encounter with Tom Olivetti.
He lavished the idea of killing Tom– it would have been easy, but it wasn’t the right time. He was struck by thoughts of fear. He had jeopardized his cover. “Now the boy has a picture of my face”
He knew he wasn’t safe. He knew the Olivettis would stop at nothing to get him. His hidden apartment was well protected. An apartment in a low-income neighborhood was the last place any high-earned assassin lived in, except him.
“He’s just a high school kid,” he said to himself as he wiped his hands on a towel.
He laughed. He remembered how Tom grabbed him and how Tom pushed him to the car. Tom’s manifestation of anger made him yearn to watch Tom suffer. If he had killed Walter, killing Tom would’ve been a piece of cake. He wasn’t satisfied. He was the best of the best, the smoothest killer and yet none of his neighbors suspected he could hurt a fly. He was happy with himself. Sixty thousand dollars had been wired to his account that night for killing his target. He smiled. His phone beeped. He glanced at it, whistling his favorite tune. His eyes widened. Two hundred thousand dollars had been wired from a dummy Cayman account. “Don Sanchez,” he smiled.
He brought out fresh Tomatoes and cabbage from the fridge and began to chop them with a knife. He whistled his favorite song as he brought out carrots, spring onions, and cucumbers.
He was making a special dish. He was proof that the coldest men could also be domesticated. He put a pot of water on the cooker to boil his pasta. He then mixed his chopped vegetables together. Just then, the doorbell rang.
He hoped it was his landlord’s daughter. “That will make my night perfect,”
He reduced the volume to his radio, threw his bloody gloves into the bin, checked for any odd signs of his actual occupation, then walked to the door with a friendly smile without peeping through the hole.
Tom unplugged the device. He tossed it into the bin, turned off his computer then turned off his TV. He decided not to be shaken by Don Olivetti’s words. He checked his clock. It was 10:05PM.
His stomach rumbled. “Shit!” It occurred to him that he had not eaten all day. He rushed downstairs to the party. It was crowded. Most danced and some talked. The house smelled like a mixture of sweat and liquor. The floor had vomit on it. From the looks of Bernard’s face, he was about to have a heart attack. He brushed through the crowd to get to the kitchen cabinets.
“You look hungry,” a voice from behind said. Tom turned back. He realized it was Donna.
“Hi!” she said with a smile.
“Hi,” he replied, quickly grabbing some nachos and some salsa dips from the table. The only lights on were the flashing lights. It was hard to tell what was what. The DJ was doing a good job keeping everyone preoccupied.
“I’ll help!” Donna said with her bright smile. Tom could barely see her, but could tell she had been expecting him.
“First, have a drink,” she said, handing him a red cup full of punch mix. Tom took a sip.
“Definitely buzzed,” he replied. Donna handed him a proper plate of snacks.
“So what have you been doing upstairs, in your room? It’s your party. You should be having fun,” she said flirtatiously. Tom played along to get his mind off his struggles
Olivetti: Inception Page 6
