They walked through the massive hallways, to a separate section of the mansion, to avoid alarming other family members. The room was covered with mahogany book cabinets. Tom remembered playing Hide and Seek when he was younger. The distinct smell of polished wood, combined with dusty old books, was still very vivid.
Catherine was escorted to a separate room. Don Olivetti sat on his leather office chair, next to a small table, and then crossed his legs as if waiting to watch a movie. Walter had fury in his eyes and he couldn’t hide it.
“You’ve crossed the line!” Walter yelled. Tom didn’t respond.
“You risked your life and the life of others! I’ve always had my suspicions about what you do when you’re not at school. I just couldn’t believe that after all I did to separate you from this life, you still end up going around town with guns like a common thug!” Walter yelled. He paced back and forth the room like a confused toddler.
“Those guards of yours…” Walter said then paused for a long time. He clenched his fist in frustration. “This has to stop! You have to leave the country. Don Sanchez will be all over this like bees on honey. He will want everyone involved in Billy’s death, dead!” Walter breathed heavily. It was difficult to contain his anger throughout the helicopter trip and didn’t want Catherine around when he was scolding his son.
“You know what? You’re leaving New York. Go to a college or university far away from here, until all this blows over! I’m not going to lose my only son!!!” Walter yelled.
Tom had a straight emotionless face. “I have to stay! I can end this once and for all,” Tom said in a low voice. Don Olivetti smiled. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Walter asked, facing Tom.
“I can help!” Tom replied.
“No! Not on my watch!” Walter replied.
“The boy has got a point, Walter,” Don Olivetti finally said. Walter shifted his attention to his brother.
“Please stay out of this!” Walter replied. There was a long silence. Walter had gone too far. Tom gazed at his uncle then shifted his attention to his father. He sighed. His actions had torn his father into pieces. He didn’t want to ruin the bond of brothers through his actions.
“Okay, dad! One day, you’ll realize you need me. Let’s hope it’s not too late,” Tom said in an apologetic demeanor.
“This is about the girl, right? You’re no use to her dead! So stay alive!” Walter scolded. Tom scoffed. “I did everything I did to protect this family. To protect you!” Tom replied in a moderate tone.
“You are causing more trouble” Walter said.
“Okay. There’s no point arguing. I’ll book a flight to Miami as soon as I find Nina! I need to leave this shithole, anyway!” Tom said as he stormed out of the room.
Don Olivetti stood up. “Tom is made man quality,” Don Olivetti said. “The kid has so much potential,” Don Olivetti added as he held his brother on the shoulders.
“I don’t want a dead son. With all due respect, if you want to make your sons made men, be my guest! BUT STAY AWAY FROM MY SON!!!!” Walter shrugged himself from his brother’s grip then walked out.
Damon paced around the interrogation room confused and scared shitless. He wasn’t concerned about the drug charges or charges for destruction of public property. His biggest concern was the charge of double homicide for the death of John Baker and Ricky Raymond. An officer walked in.
“Where’s my LAWYER?” Damon yelled. “He’ll be back. You’ll soon be transferred to another FBI facility,” the officer said.
“What fucking FBI facility!? You have no proof. You can’t keep me here,” Damon yelled in pride and disgust.
“Criminals can’t be choosers. Start getting used to it. FIVE minutes!” the officer replied then walked out.
Damon paced around the room with articulate anxiety. He hoped his men had an escape plan. He needed to flee the country—Bahamas, Haiti, or Barbados. He needed to be somewhere without an extradiction treaty—maybe Brazil or Russia, but he also had the Olivettis to worry about—a family that big, had to have connections at major corners of the globe. He cursed the day he met Tom Olivetti.
Two officers dressed in dark grey suits, walked in. One of them walked up to Damon with handcuffs, cuffed him and both grabbed him by the upper arm as they walked him out of the building. Their faces had no expressions. They looked like zombies on a mission. They walked through several security checkpoints before exiting the building. Damon’s lawyer popped up from nowhere at the entrance of the building.
“Hey! Hey! Where are you taking my client to!?” Damon’s lawyer asked
“Suspect facility transfer…” one of the agents replied blandly.
“Why? On whose authority?” Damon’s Lawyer asked as he made a desperate attempt to call his man at the agency.
“Reason is classified sir. If you want to see him, meet us at the next facility,” the officer said.
“What facility?” Damon’s lawyer asked. The officers ignored his question.
“Do something, scumbag! Why am I paying you so much money?” Damon yelled as he was tossed into the backseat of a Lincoln sedan.
“Dammit! Fuck!” Don Sanchez yelled as he smashed a bottle on the wall. Full of rage, anger and despair, he grabbed a golf club then smashed all the 60 inch televisions in the room.
“Why!! Why!!! Billy! Why!” he yelled as his men watched their boss display extreme emotional outburst.
“I’m going to kill them! Every single one of them! There has to be a rat in our midst!” he added. Fear emerged on the faces of his men. He was looking for a scapegoat and no one wanted to be a part of it. Just then, Don Cruccifixo walked in.
“I heard…” Don Cruccifixo said with a solemn face. His presence in Don Sanchez’s home was risky, but his absence would have been riskier.
“I’m going to rip their guts out and feed it to the pigs!” Don Sanchez said in rage.
“What do you need me to do?” Don Cruccifixo asked.
There was a long silence. The entire room stood still. Don Sanchez inhaled and exhaled deeply as he shifted his attention towards Don Cruccifixo.
“How’s your daughter?” Don Sanchez asked.
“Uh I don’t know,” Don Cruccifixo replied. He wished he wasn’t present. He was the rat. The room was shrinking and his heart pounded heavily. Beads of sweat struggled to appear on his forehead. The ventilation didn’t seem to be doing a good job.
“What do you mean you don’t know?’” Don Sanchez asked. Don Cruccifixo moved towards the wine cellar, trying to hide his nervousness. Every strand of hair, muscle, bone and blood, felt stiff and static.
“This seems to get more interesting. My son is dead and your daughter is alive,” Don Sanchez replied in a tone of suspicion.
“She might have been kidnapped by the Olivettis,” Don Cruccifixo replied, immediately regretting his lackadaisical response. Don Cruccifixo grabbed a gun from his guard’s holster. The room became tenser.
“Your daughter was kidnapped and you’re this calm?” Don Sanchez asked. By this time, both Don Cruccifixo and Don Sanchez’s guards had their guns pointed at each other. Don Cruccifixo froze, smiled and then took a sip of his drink.
“What are you going to do? Kill me?” Don Cruccifixo replied.
Don Sanchez looked at him with utmost vehemence.
“What do you propose I do when someone betrays my loyalty?” He said in a thick Mexican accent.
“This is bigger than you and I…” Don Cruccifixo began.
“If you shoot me, most of the people in this room will die, including you! It will be an unnecessary blood bath. I understand you are grieving the loss of your son and you want immediate gratification and someone to blame. You can kill us all right now, but your other sons won’t stand a chance against the Olivettis, on their own. They are bigger than you think. If I were you, I’d choose to stay alive to give your sons a fighting chance in this war,” Don Cruccifixo said as he took the last sip of his drink.
Don San
chez placed the gun on a table then sat on his desk chair, hopelessly staring at his table. The guards stared at each other, afraid, and confused.
“You’re right. You don’t have to die today. We don’t have to die today, but I guarantee that you’ll never see year’s end,” Don Sanchez said to Don Cruccifixo with a grin.
Don Cruccifixo nodded. “I know! And it will be for a greater cause,”
35
“Why are you helping me?” Nina asked as Roberto drove through traffic. He ignored her as he swerved into the highway exit. “It doesn’t add up!” Nina continued as she paid close attention to where she was and where they were going.
“You’re involved with the heir of the most powerful mob family in the United States. Nothing is ever going to add up!” Robert replied shifting his attention from the road.
“Right! And you work for their archenemies and yet here I am, alive—saved by you, for no apparent reason. You work for the Sanchez family?” Nina asked then checked his facial expression for a non-verbal response.
“You work for Damon?” Nina asked again. No response. She sighed. “You obviously don’t work for the Olivettis,” she said to herself since Roberto wasn’t responding. Roberto scoffed, slightly.
“Oh!” Nina said, trying to put the pieces together in her head.
“The less you know the better for you. As time passes by, you will understand why he needs you,” Roberto replied. Nina sighed, frustrated. He treated her like a precious gem. At the same time, his blank expressions and brief replies were annoying. There was a long silence.
“So where are you taking me?” Nina asked.
“Home!”
Walter Olivetti was distraught about his conversation with his son. He grabbed a bottle of vodka and two glasses as he walked into one of the guest rooms where Catherine was. Catherine stood by the window with a cigarette in her hand, gazing blankly at the window. Her hands trembled and could barely hold her cigarettes. She looked terrified. Billy was her first kill.
Walter cleared his throat to get her attention, she didn’t flinch. He filled both glasses with flavored vodka and walked gently towards her.
“How are you feeling?” Walter said cautiously. “I just killed my husband. What do you expect?” Catherine replied bluntly.
Walter sighed. He understood the predicament she was in, but didn’t know how to approach her. Walter handed her a glass of vodka.
She struggled to smile.
“You have a talent for knowing what I need and when I need it,” She said. Walter smiled in response. There was a brief silence.
“You can’t go home!” Walter said to break the silence after two sips of his drink. Both stared outside the window. There wasn’t much of a view at that corner of the house. They didn’t care.
“I know,” Catherine replied.
“And you can’t come to my home either,” Walter added.
“I know. I understand,” She replied as she began to tear up. Walter placed his glass on the window pane. He tried to hold her. She flinched. He took two steps back.
“Don’t touch me,” she said with her hands trembling. She inhaled her cigarette. Walter stepped back some more then sat on the couch. He knew he had to let her cry it out. There was no point holding her when she didn’t want to be held and there was no point saying anything that would make it worse. So he was quiet. He sat and stared.
Her make-up was smothered with tears and her hair was rough from the gust of wind caused by the helicopter. Her lips were bruised from her dead husband’s blow and her eyes had pain written all over it.
He was dumbfounded. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say. He regretted the day he let Billy De Sanchez take her hand in marriage. He imagined the multiple times Billy physically abused her. He clenched his fist then eased up a bit. She was beautiful; like a perfect work of art. She was endowed with even body proportions. Her curves and her face didn’t make her beautiful; it was how she wore her body—like a queen.
“Stop it!” she said, still gazing outside the window. “What?” Walter replied as he snapped back to reality.
“You’re staring at me like you always do,” She replied. Walter smiled then sighed. “You know I can’t help it. I’m sure Billy stared at you the same way. You’re that beautiful,” Walter replied.
“He did stare at me, but not like you do. He stared at me like he was hungry, like I was nothing more than a happy meal, but you - you…” she said not completing her statement.
“How do I stare at you?” Walter replied. She turned towards him as she thought of an appropriate response.
“Never mind! So what’s the plan? Where do I stay till the dust settles?” She replied to close the uncomfortable subject.
“This building—my brother’s house, is the safest place to stay,” Walter replied.
“You must be kidding! Me? After what he did to us?” Catherine replied in fury. Walter sighed.
“My main goal is to keep you safe. Your father in-law…excuse me. Your ex father in-law is looking for you. I don’t want anyone I love getting killed in this stupid war!” Walter replied.
Catherine froze at the word ‘love’. Walter realized what he had unconsciously said. “So you still love me?” Catherine asked as she walked towards him. Walter didn’t reply. She wiped off her tears then sat on the couch, next to him.
“Look, I understand you’re grieving the loss of your husband and I don’t want to make matters more complicated,” Walter replied, trying to be respectful.
“You don’t know me anymore. I would never shed a tear for Billy. You have no idea how long I have daydreamed of shooting Billy in the head. I’m crying because this isn’t the way I imagined it. I’m practically going to be in hiding until the entire Sanchez family is dead and I know I’ll probably lose you or my father in this war! And most importantly, I don’t want to meet my child, Pablo, until this war is over. I don’t want him mixed in this…if what your brother says is true,” Catherine replied. There was a brief silence.
“Where is my son, Walt?” She asked.
“Our son. Danny will tell us when the time is right!” Walter replied.
“Liar! All of you! I can’t stand this torture. You used me! You lied to me! You know he’s not alive!” she yelled as she got up. It was a crazy part of Catherine Walter had never seen.
“Calm down! He is my son too. Don’t you think I’ll kill my own brother if he killed my own son? Huh!?” Walter replied. She began to sob. He grabbed her. She struggled. He was a lot firmer. He didn’t let go until she stopped.
“It’s okay! Everything will be okay,” He said with a voice of reassurance. She held on to Walter tightly as she soaked his blazer with her tears. She loved his scent, how warm he was, his stature, the way he placed his chin on top of her head, his firm grip on her waist, and his husky voice.
“I REALLY HOPE SO!”
Tom was on his way home with Dean and Sylvester. He didn’t know where to start. He had to find Nina. He imagined her lying dead, by a river. He brushed the thought. He didn’t care about his argument with his father. The war seemed to be going in their favor. Billy de Sanchez was dead. One thing bothered him. He heard he had a son with Donna. Could it be his child or was she playing mind tricks? How was Nina going to take all this? Will Nina want to have anything to do with him after all she had been through? Everything and every thought led to Nina. He wanted Nina to come to Miami.
Tom’s car finally pulled into his father’s compound. The gate was closed immediately and there seemed to be more men guarding the premises. Tom got out of the car. Bernard walked up to him in a state of apprehension.
“Tom, you have a guest!” Bernard said without a greeting. “Who?” Tom asked, imagining Donna with his baby.
“Where are you taking me to?” Damon yelled suspiciously. The two agents ignored him. Damon struggled with his handcuffs. Something didn’t feel right about the entire situation.
“This isn’t a normal facility tra
nsfer. Where are the squad cars?” Damon asked. The two men laughed. “You know mister Olivetti?” one of the men asked. Damon froze. It made sense. “Let me out!” Damon yelled.
“That seems like a yes,” the other FBI agent said.
“Don’t worry we’re not going to kill you,” the man added. Damon gasped for air.
“Let me out! How much do you want? How much is Tom Olivetti giving you? I would give you twice as much. Fuck! Ten times more! Name your price!” Damon yelled in the back seat. Suddenly, the car stopped at the side of a busy road.
Damon glanced around, paranoid. One of the agents looked back at Damon then removed his shades.
“You’re free to go. You can get out the car!” The agent said. Damon was suspicious. He looked around the streets. There were lots of people around and lots of cars driving by. It was a bad environment to shoot someone. There were too many witnesses. It didn’t feel like a trap. Maybe it was his chance to escape. Maybe the Decatur mob had something to do with it.
“Why!? Why now?” Damon asked.
“Mister Olivetti doesn’t want us to kill you,” The agent replied.
“Now please get out before he changes his mind!” the other agent yelled.
Damon grabbed his opportunity. He wasn’t one to argue with freedom. He got out of the car. He glanced around for signs of danger. He was still in cuffs and the side of the road was dangerous. He waited for cars to drive by then safely crossed. Just then, as if timed, a full sized trailer, in full speed, ran over him. Blood spattered everywhere. There was nothing but gooish smudge on the street. People around screamed in disbelief. The agents smiled and drove off.
36
“This is impossible! Wefinally get to pin this Damon guy and what, He escapes from your car? Who authorized the facility transfer?” The FBI district director, Mark Shaw yelled out, standing right next to Damon’s unrecognizable body in the coroner’s office.
Olivetti: Inception Page 23
