by S. Robertson
Tony couldn’t believe his good fortune. He had already dismissed Morgan but he could pump Kari-Ann. In a voice dripping with charm, he responded, “Kari-Ann, I do indeed have your contract and we should get this settled today.”
Ecstatic, Kari-Ann, anxious to seal the deal blurted out, “How about this morning?” She couldn’t believe her boldness.
Responding to her enthusiasm, Tony replied, “How about breakfast at seven.”
“Where are you located?” asked Kari-Ann.
“I’m staying at the Back Bay 920 Hotel downtown, on Portland Street near the West End Recreational Complex and Haymarket Station. You can’t miss it. It has a huge sign as you turn the corner, and there’s underground parking, essential in Boston these days.”
Happily Kari-Ann replied, “Oh, I know it, I went to a wedding there a couple of years ago. No problem. See you about 6:45am.”
Making full use of his time, Tony contacted a cousin. He needed a favor. After the call he continued packing his suitcase.
At 6, Kari-Ann checked on her body guard. “Eureka! He’s asleep. He’s one tough hombre.” She grabbed her purse, pulled on her jacket and ran to the car. Not a minute to spare. She eased the car down the driveway, turned gently and drove off.
* * *
The screech of the garbage truck brakes woke Gritty. “Damn it…….” He jerked awake, knocking items off his lap. “What time is it.?” He checked his watch. “Seven.” At that moment he spied the vacant driveway and cursed.
“Shit, she’s done it now! Nothing I said registered. She’s still chasing rainbows.” Wasting no time, he needed help and dialed Gus, hoping he’d be in early.
“Gus, no time to chat, any chance your guys got a tag on our assailant; maybe the name of a local hotel or something? Kari-Ann’s skipped, and I’m certain it’s a fatal mistake.”
“They’ve traced his car to the Haymarket area, another day, we’d have him,” answered Gus, recognizing the urgency in Gritty’s voice.
“That’s close enough. I’m off. I’ll check the hotels in the area”. Gritty threw a few loose items into the back seat, and aimed the car down town. He had little time to lose.
* * *
Tony was waiting in the lobby when Kari Ann arrived. Instead of heading towards the restaurant, he redirected her towards the elevator with an apology. “Sorry, Kari-Ann the restaurant doesn’t open until 7:30am. So, while we’re waiting we can get those papers signed.”
“That sounds good.” said Kari Ann, seeing the logic of his comments.
In the room, Tony brought out the familiar documents and signed them, handing a copy to Kari-Ann. Next, he cleverly manipulated the discussion to extract the information he sought. “Just curious, does Morgan do research outside of his academic responsibilities? A lot of academics do these days for the extra cash.”
“What do you mean?” asked Kari-Ann unprepared for the shift in conversation.
“Well, do people contract him to look up historical information on old items, let’s say an old manuscript or book they might have found in their family attic? Morgan might do this as a private contract for which he would be paid.”
“If he did, he never told me,” replied Kari-Ann, now wondering what else Morgan might have kept secret.
Undeterred, Tony tried again. “Maybe he might do research for a friend?”
“The only one he’d do that for is his university buddy, Wolfram. They’ve been friends for decades. Years ago they had their own band,” replied Kari-Ann happy that she could contribute something.
Tony pressed on, “What’s Wolfram’s last name?”
“Stark,” was the immediate reply. Then Kari-Ann, seeking recognition, embellished her comments. “He’s had a bad car accident which left him disabled. Now he’s into some kind of fraud investigation stuff. He used to be a policeman.”
“That’s it!” said Tony to himself. “Someone hired this Stark guy to authenticate an antique. He goes to his friend, Morgan, for help. It all fits. So, it’s Stark I’m after. I’ll get my relatives to get the goods on this guy.” No longer needing Kari-Ann, Tony moved to the next phase of his plan.
“Kari-Ann, let’s seal this contract, the beginning of what I know will be a great movie career with some ‘happy dust’. It’s what all stars do these days. How about it, are you game?”
“It’s a bit early, for me,” said Kari Ann, overwhelmed with the occasion.
“Who cares about time……..in the movie business every hour is the right one. Your in the movie world now, it’s time to celebrate,” said Tony, trying to exude an enthusiastic attitude.
Realizing her success at finalizing the contract, with a sly smile, she replied, “Why not. You only live once.”
Tony was ready. A cocaine packet and nose straws suddenly appeared.
Feeling euphoric after the first fix, Kari-Ann didn’t resist when Tony suggested a second. She watched as he shared the first but never checked on the second. Unknown to her, the second batch was spiked with recreational drugs and levamisole, a livestock de-worming medication known for its fatal results. Tony’s ‘happy dust’ was free of any negative properties.
Time passed. Still high, Kari-Ann did not demur when Tony said he would be right back and left the suite. Enthralled with her new life she drifted in and out of wild and sometimes frightening images.
* * *
About 11am, Gritty reached the Back Bay 920 Hotel. He showed the photo of Antonino and Kari-Ann to the desk clerk and got an immediate response.
“I haven’t seen the woman but that guy checked out this morning around seven.”
“Are you sure? What room was he in?” asked Gritty, not accepting the news as he was certain Kari-Ann was in the hotel. He knew Antonino, once he had what he wanted, he’d discard his latest pawn, using the hotel routine to aid his escape.
“Rm 460” replied the desk clerk.
“By any chance has that room been cleaned yet?” Gritty persisted in his quest.
“I can check. It’s been busy we have a full house with a national convention in town. It looks like it’s not done yet.”
Pressing his point Gritty argued, “This could be a security matter. Get your manager. We may already be too late.” Noting the clerk’s hesitancy he raised his voice. “For God sake man, you don’t want a homicide on your premises, do you?”
That registered. “Hell no!” replied the clerk as he buzzed the manager and security.
Within minutes Gritty was leading the way to the elevator with the hotel manager, and a security guard, one he knew.
From the opened #460 doorway, Gritty spied Kari-Ann sprawled on the floor. Checking her pulse he demanded, “Call an ambulance, there’s still some life. Chances are slim but we have to try.”
“Drugs, that’s all I need. An overdose,” was the manager’s unsympathetic response. Closing the door, he went to the telephone to order the ambulance and to get the room sealed off knowing a police investigation would follow if this woman died.
“Not exactly,” said Gritty. “I believe this is a homicide” and to himself “but it’ll take a miracle to prove.” Seeing the white powder on the table, Gritty used his pocket knife to flip a small sample into a plastic bag which he carried for such purposes. Glancing at the security guard he went on, “Old habits die hard. I’ll get this to Gus for analysis.” The guard nodded.
The guard knelt down beside the body, “Gritty, have you noticed these purple blotches on her ears, mouth and cheeks? I haven’t seen them before. Any idea what might have caused these? They’re ugly.”
“Yes, I saw them. That’s why I need this powder tested. It’s likely contaminated, and done deliberately. It’s the hallmark of this guy I’m chasing.”
At that moment gritty noticed a piece of torn paper near Kari-Ann’s extended right hand. Turning the paper over he saw, in a badly scribbled hand, “Help Wolf”. Silently he thought, “God help her. With a brain fogged with drugs my warning finally registered. She had given Wolf
ram’s name to the devil. I must act swiftly.”
The Ambulance appeared and one attendant informed the three that they were transporting Kari-Ann to the Boston Medical Center.
As the manager alerted his team to seal off the room, Gritty called Fred. “I’ve got bad news. Kari-Ann’s en route to the Boston Medical Centre. Her chances are not good. I suspect she’s been poisoned with contaminated cocaine. I’ll follow the ambulance and meet you and Morgan there.”
Next he called Wolfram. “Kari-Ann has become Antonino’s latest victim. She’s headed to the Boston Medical Center.” He then briefed Wolfram of what had happened, including Kari-Ann’s note. “Sorry old friend but it looks like your next. My advice, get to hell out of Boston. Leave this clean up to Gus, Fred, and myself. I’ll explain to Morgan. Let’s hope we can stop this madman here in Boston or he will be haunting your every move in Britain.”
Concerned, Wolfram asked, “What do you think her chances are, Gritty?”
“Not good. I’m not even sure she will make it to the hospital. What a waste. She didn’t deserve this.” Gritty replied, “I may not have liked her, but I hoped to prevent an ending like this.”
Understanding the gravity of the situation, Wolfram reassured Gritty, “We’ll take the first flights we can get tonight. I’ll keep in touch through Josh. Tell Morgan how sorry I am that Kari-Ann got caught up in this terrible mess.”
* * *
Boston: Antonino Leaves for Britain
His ruthless philosophy of leaving no incriminating baggage meant that Antonino needed a new hideout for a few days to rearrange his plans. His cousin had the answer.
There was little regret in eliminating Kari-Ann. His only concern was whether he had erased any incriminating evidence that he supplied the drugs. Detached, he reviewed his steps, and then reassured himself “Even, if she lives, her brain will be so scrambled that she won’t be making sense for ages. That gives me plenty of time to get on with my quest. My gut tells me I’m on the right track. All sources indicate that whatever this is, it could be worth millions. Stark is the key.”
As he followed his cousin’s directions, the quality of housing deteriorated. Finally, locating the address, his heart dropped. His new accommodation was a run down, non-descript stucco, ranch style house, with two vehicles parked in the driveway; a half-ton pick-up truck and a Jeep. His expensive sport’s car would be a thief’s delight, except everyone knew a crime family owned the property. Thievery was the least of his worries. His cousin appeared and introduced him to another hoodlum and a middle-aged woman; fat, tough and humorless. “A few days in this dump and I can ditch America. That will suit me fine,” were his comforting words as he unpacked his suitcase in a small bedroom.
Within twenty-four hours, through another relative in the tourist business, Antonino learned that Stark was booked on a flight to Dublin via Amsterdam. In assessing this news, Antonino calculated, “Dublin, I suppose he’s checking out another antique. Is this to do with one item or several? Ignore Ireland I’m sure he’s heading to Scotland, after all that’s Morgan’s other university contact. While O’Gratteney’s files said little about Scotland, that doesn’t mean Dr. Sinclair isn’t in on this. I’ll need to check. What was the name of that Edinburgh University faculty member I met at a conference in Dublin? I’ll get the name in the faculty listing on the Internet, if I can find a computer in this hell hole.”
That evening, he found his contact, and called Scotland the following morning. Offering a substantial incentive, he received a quick turn-around call to say that Sinclair was expecting two Americans as house guests, one being Wolfram Stark. Smiling, Antonino hung up the phone saying out loud, “I’m an absolute genius. I’ll head to Scotland and get there ahead of Stark.” There would be little time for celebrating. At that moment his cousin appeared to say that there were two men in the living room, his cousin’s uneasiness signaled trouble.
Antonino entered the living room to greet two heavy set men, well-known as Cosmo Scarpoli’s enforcers. Marco, the oldest, spoke, “Come, the Boss wants to talk to you.” Resistance was pointless.
Silence filled the car as they drove. Arriving at the luxurious, well guarded Scarpoli estate, Antonino was escorted directly to poolside. There, sitting alone reading the paper was Cosmo, a thin, muscular man in his late fifties drinking coffee. He folded the paper and looked up as Antonino approached. Seizing the opportunity, Antonino, stepped forward with an outstretched hand saying, “It’s an honor, sir, to meet you. I want to thank you for all the help I’ve received since coming to America.”
Making no effort to respond, Cosmo stated in a commanding voice, “Sit down, priest.” In a gravelly voice, he continued, “It is only because of a debt owed to your mother’s family that I have tolerated you on my turf. You have a strange way of honoring my hospitality.”
Antonino felt it was in his best interests to remain silent. He could feel the riveting malice of Cosmo’s eyes from beneath his sunglasses.
Cosmo then proceeded to lay out the reasons of his discontent, “Antonino, you have been lying to us since you arrived, not a commendable quality in a priest. I have just learned of the hit you arranged in Canada, which exposed our Montreal family to unwanted police attention. Then, within the last week I discovered the Boston Police are looking for your car, and in the last twenty-four hours, they’ve fingered you as a suspect in the case of a professor’s wife who overdosed at a local hotel. I also know you obtained cocaine from your cousin. These nasty incidents are troubling, and certainly do not fit your initial tale of having some academic argument with a university colleague. Do you wish to comment or clarify any details?”
For the first time in his life Antonino felt a cold, sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had always prided himself at being able to slide easily between the law and his criminal connections. He had learned early in life that it was foolhardy to cross crime bosses. Yet, in his lust for gold he had ignored this basic survival tenet to his own peril. He had no defense, so said nothing.
“Your silence reveals a lot. You’ve strutted through America with little regard for anyone or any rules. In addition, bringing extra police attention on our family at this time is most unfortunate, for both of us. It is only because of your family that you continue to live,” the threatening statement hanging in the air. “You are no longer welcome. You will be taken back to your place, pack your bags and these two will drive you to the harbor. There you will board a yacht heading to Miami this afternoon. I wanted to make sure you understood my reasons and that your expulsion from Boston is under my orders. I will contact your family accordingly.”
With sweat dripping down his back and lip, Antonino, not wanting to add any more fuel to the fire, had but one response, “ What about my car, it’s a rental.”
“We’ll deal with that. Give me your car keys.” Antonino obliged on command.
As Antonino got up to leave, Cosmo added, “If I hear you are one of those priests who have been abusing children, so help me I will take out a contract on you myself ………. Do I make myself clear?” Cosmo sealed the end of the meeting by picking up his newspaper.
“Yes, sir” came the quiet reply, as Antonino joined his escorts. In the car he thought to himself, “What a hypocrite. A guy who makes his living on every illegal business including prostitution is passing insinuations on my life. But under the circumstances, I’ll not argue, or offer any flip comments. That would be fatal.”
Without fanfare, Antonino’s Boston exit was decided for him. His reception at the yacht was frosty. For the entire trip his stomach churned expecting a blow to the back of his head and a watery burial. For courage he kept repeating to himself, “If I make it to Miami, I’m taking the first taxi to the nearest airport and getting the hell out of this country. It’s only a matter of time before my Vatican record reaches Cosmo. Then I’ll need eyes in the back of my head.”
Chapter 3
* * *
Ireland, Galway Bay
She pulled herself up for a better view. “Here I sit on these blessed shores of the west coast of Ireland. Where else could one feel the magical presence of Celtic gods and goddesses, Druidic seers and bards, the Tuatha De Danaan, the Celtic Christian saints, and the aura of that phantom isle of Hy-Brasil, sitting cloaked off in the distance. Whether she knows it or not, the surname of the medallion’s courier, has been well chosen - Talismann - how prophetic. Although we never met, I always held Nellie as family. What a tragic end to such a fine woman. But we all knew the price of being a Guardian. It could have been any one of us. Now it’s my turn to participate in this grand drama.” Rising, she headed towards the house. “No time for dawdling, my four guests will be here in a few hours.”
Brigit (Cahill) O’Keefe had spent her entire seventy-two years in the Galway area. Her father was a well-known General Practitioner. At twenty she married Naill O’Keefe who also became a doctor, teaching at the University College Hospital located beside the university. The university was now known as the National University of Ireland, Galway. She had three pregnancies and two living children; a girl and a boy. At thirty-one she began her studies in Old and Middle Irish history, and by forty had a PhD, eventually teaching Celtic Studies at the same university as her husband. A widow of six years, her husband having died of cancer in 2006 at the age of seventy, she faced an inevitable move from her cherished bay a decision she hoped Fate would decide for her.
