Olivetti: Illumination

by Tamilore Odimayo

  “What!? Why?” Don Cruccifixo asked.

  “There’s someone in there right?” Frederick replied. Don Cruccifixo and his men looked at each other, confused.

  “And how’d you know that?” Don Cruccifixo asked defensively. Frederick didn’t reply.

  “Are you fucking following us?” one of Don Cruccifixo’s men asked.

  “You asked me what we need to do next and the answer is in that trunk,” Frederick replied.

  “What? Jack? The scumbag from Chicago who loaned some of my money for a club and refused to pay back? How can he be the answer? He is a reckless son of a bitch,” Don Cruccifixo asked sarcastically. Everyone seemed to be looking at Frederick in a strange way.

  “Can I talk to you in private?” Frederick asked. Don Cruccifixo exchanged glances with his men then walked away with Freddy.

  When they were in a safe distance, they turned their back from the others. “We need to clean up,” Frederick said calmly.

  “Yes I know. We just killed one of the most powerful men in the world to protect our self-interest. Who do we need to pop to keep it a secret?” Don Cruccifixo replied.

  “We don’t need to do anything. We need to keep our hands clean. They already think the mafia has something to do with it. The man in your trunk is the answer to our problem,” Frederick replied, holding his hat on his head to prevent the wind from blowing it away.

  “Now Freddy, you are a peculiar man. You seem to know more than we do. Are you working for the Feds?” Don Cruccifixo asked. Frederick scoffed.

  “I am Italian. It would be a sin to work for the Feds!” Frederick joked. Don Cruccifixo didn’t laugh.

  “So why is Jack the answer?” Don Cruccifixo replied.

  “He’s going to take away our problem,” Frederick replied briefly. Don Cruccifixo’s facial expression changed.

  “That guy? He is a numbskull! He can’t do anything right! He’ll mess the whole operation up and then rat us out in exchange for protective custody!”

  “Look! Trust me on this, if our fall guy gets to court, the entire world is going to know he didn’t kill the President and more investigations will keep piling up. It’s a deep rabbit hole that we don’t need right now,” Frederick replied. Don Cruccifixo paused for a moment.

  “I’m – I’m not a fan of killing an innocent guy. Lee Oswald is innocent. Let him be the fall guy, but don’t kill him,” Don Cruccifixo said.

  “He’s not innocent. He shot his weapon, but missed. He would have killed the President, but he was too slow to carry out the plan. As we speak, he is killing a police officer,” Frederick blurted out.

  “Wait what?” Don Cruccifixo said with the most confused look ever.

  “How the fuck do you know that?” Don Cruccifixo added. Frederick sighed heavily.

  “Let me have a talk with the guy in your trunk and I promise I’ll make you one the wealthiest mob bosses ever,” Frederick said in a state of desperation. He was capable of annihilating Don Cruccifixo and his men, but it would ruin all future plans to come. Don Cruccifixo had a mixture of confusion, desperation, shock and happiness.

  “Get that asshole over here,” Don Cruccifixo yelled at his men. They waited as the men dragged Jack Ruby out of the trunk and towards them. Jack Ruby was a middle aged man. Short. Average looking. A masking tape was around his mouth and his hands were also tied. He was on his knees and mumbling incoherently. Don Cruccifixo signaled to his men to leave.

  Frederick took one look at Jack Ruby then pulled the masking tape from his mouth. “Please! Please! I’ll pay back! I’ll pay back with interest. Anything! Anything! I’ll do anything. I don’t want to die!” Jack begged.

  “Shut up! Now listen and listen carefully,” Frederick said calmly. Jack was scared. He glanced at Frederick then Don Cruccifixo, who seemed as lost and confused as he was. He tried to listen to the stranger talking to him.

  “See my friend here has decided not to kill you! You owe him tons of money and from the looks of it, you can never afford to pay back. Now, the President of the United States just died. He was ‘allegedly’ killed by a man named Lee Oswald. Lee will soon be in police custody,” Frederick said then waited for it to sink in. Jack was terrified. He listened in horror and disbelief.

  “Ken-dy is dead? W-What do you want me to do about it?” Jack asked timidly.

  “You’re going to kill Lee Oswald. If you do that, we will clean your debt and won’t go after your loved ones,” Frederick replied briefly. Jack paused then laughed.

  “Are you serious? – If I kill that guy, I’m as good as dead,” he continued to laugh.

  “If you don’t kill him, you’re as good as dead. You will die a poor and miserable death. You will never be remembered in the history books. Your family and friends will never find your body and you won’t be given a proper burial. And Don Cruccifixo here might not be too enthusiastic about the loss of his money. He might come after your family…” Frederick replied. Jack stopped laughing. There was a brief pause.

  “You have been coughing slightly lately right?” Frederick asked. Jack nodded.

  “In a couple of years, you’re going to develop a radical form of cancer. You will die because you won’t have enough money to get the best treatment. If you’re in prison, you will at least have a fighting chance,” Frederick added. Jack was even more frightened. Don Cruccifixo stared at Frederick in awe. Frederick had a calm believable persona. It was hard to distinguish the words that came out of his mouth. Was it a mere threat? Or was it fact?

  “H-how’d you know that?” Jack finally asked.

  Frederick shook his head. “It doesn’t matter how I know that. What matters is the next four years of your life,”

  Jack wiped the sweat off his forehead. For some strange reason, he saw the sense in what Frederick was talking about.

  “It’s okay. To some, you’ll be an American Hero for killing the person who killed JFK. To some, you’ll be a terrorist. Your name will be immortalized. You will be buried in a nice place with your family,” Frederick said in a tone of confidence and compassion.

  Jack shook his head. It all felt right. It all made sense. Everything about his life led to that very moment—that very minute. Till that second, he had never realized his purpose in life. He was unusually calm and couldn’t figure out why. Could this be a brainwash? Frederick untied him. Don Cruccifixo gave a look of surprise as Jack stood up. His men were uneasy.

  “You’re sure he is not going to run?” Don Cruccifixo asked. Frederick looked at Jack.

  “No he wouldn’t,” he replied bluntly.

  “Jack…go home. Make peace with everyone you know. There’s a gun in your lower left drawer, use it. In two days, you will go to the station. Tell the first police officer you see that ‘the Order’ sent you, he’ll understand,” Frederick added. Jack nodded then sighed.

  “Remember to be calm. It’s easy. You’ll be on National TV so no false evidence will be used against you by the police. You will be sentenced to death, but will die of cancer before that happens. You will be the talk of the nation and your name will be remembered for as long as America exists,” Frederick said in a convincing tone as he adjusted Jack’s suit. Jack nodded. “Here,” Frederick said handing him the key to another parked car.

  “Go! I’ll send protectors for you in prison. No one will harm you while you’re there,” Frederick added as Jack walked to the car.

  “What the hell is going on?” Don Cruccifixo asked.

  “You cannot possibly know everything that’s about to happen!” Don Cruccifixo yelled.

  “How do you know he isn’t going to run off?” Don Cruccifixo yelled.

  “I don’t. I can only hope he makes the right decision,” Frederick replied as he walked towards his car.

  “And if he doesn’t?” Don Cruccifixo asked trying to keep up with Frederick.

  “Whatever happens, Lee Oswald is still going die on twenty eighth day of this month,” Frederick said with certainty as he entered his car. />
  “Okayyy…you are a very strange man! How do I find you after the mess has been cleaned up?” Don Cruccifixo said.

  “I’ll find you,” Frederick replied as he sped off. Francois followed along.

  12

  Present day

  Aventura hospital. Doctors and Nurses stormed in and out of the ward like busy bees around a hive. Two police officers gathered statements from witnesses for insurance purposes. Tom was seated in an examining room. His outfit was drenched in blood. Nurses fought to examine the European hunk. Doctors took turns examining Tom for internal injuries, over and over again.

  “It’s hard to believe,” one Doctor said to another. Tom stood up from the bed. He could no longer keep up with the sick act. He was fine. Perfect.

  “Look, I’m okay. There was a lady – the lady who hit me with her car. Is she okay?” Tom replied in a European accent. The Doctors looked at each other.

  “Yea she is in the lobby. Only suffered a mild concussion,” the Doctor replied. Tom walked briskly to the lobby.

  “Wait. We don’t even have your name,” the Doctor called out. Tom kept walking without looking back.

  Nina Owen was seated on her bed, still distraught and confused.

  “We have checked traffic cameras, but the accident seemed to have happened in a camera blind spot. From the vehicle’s damages, she must have hit a harder object before hitting the man,”

  “Are you trying to say I’m stupid? She only hit that guy! She didn’t run into anything else! There’s blood on the windshield to prove it!” James replied to the officers.

  “Mhmm the guy who apparently has no injuries?” the officers replied with obvious sarcasm.

  Tom could hear the conversation loud and clear, across the hall. As soon as he stepped into the lobby, Nina stood up. Her thoughts were incoherent and Tom couldn’t read them. Tom walked up to Nina. He observed her distraught look. She acted like she was seeing a ghost. Her Dark straightened hair was now rough. Her suit and trousers were partially stained with bits of blood and dirt. She had partial stitches on her forehead due to her faint spell.

  “Tom?” Nina asked.

  “Yes,” Tom replied, blankly.

  “Tom Olivetti?” Nina clarified.

  “Yes,” Tom replied again, unaware of whom she was or how she knew his name. Despite her unfamiliarity, he knew he was at the right place. He couldn’t explain why. Tears began to roll down Nina’s cheeks. A chill ran through her spine.

  “It’s – it’s impossible,” She said as she lost the energy on her legs. Tom grabbed her before she fell.

  “You know me, but I don’t know you. I can’t seem to…” Tom whispered. “Seem to what?”

  “Nothing. I feel this connection, but I don’t remember – I don’t remember anything,” Tom replied.

  “You – you died. You died in that plane crash. I – I – was at your funeral,” Nina said incoherently. Just then, Jack ran towards them.

  “Hey! Hey! Stay away from her! Stop touching her!” Jack yelled jealously and defensively. He pushed Tom, but Tom was still, unmoved and unperturbed by the strength of an ordinary human. He looked around. People were staring. Some were alarmed. Tom foresaw a nurse dialing the phone for hospital security.

  “I’ll leave,” Tom said, looking at the nurse directly in her eyes. She hesitated. He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself. He thought he had missed his appointment at the coffee shop and he blamed himself for not watching out for the car. Or maybe it was part of the design? Maybe he was meant to be at that exact spot at 6pm. He gazed at Nina.

  “I was told to be at the coffee shop at 6pm today and I think I missed the person I was supposed to see. I’ll be there every day between five and seven in the evening and hopefully, I’ll meet him or her,” Tom said to Nina then walked out of the hospital, undisturbed by the eyes that stared at him.

  Julianna, a member of Tom’s inner circle and Tom’s girlfriend was basking under the South Florida sun. She was on a floater in the pool of her beach house at West Palm Beach, Florida. She hadn’t heard from Tom and it bothered her. She wasn’t too gifted. Her gifts had lots of limits. She could only see five minutes ahead, unlike Frederick and Tom, who could see years ahead.

  Her caramel skin glistened under the sun. Her Butler, an older man from Cuba, walked up to the pool. His khaki shorts, beach shirt and flip flops depicted the south Florida theme. He couldn’t help but stare at Julianna’s ravaging beauty. Besides the small scar on the left side of her stomach, she was spotless. Her breasts were evenly plump and her thighs were evenly thick.

  “How I wish she was topless,” the butler thought. Julianna could hear his thoughts loud and clear.

  “You should guard your thoughts Mr. Hobbs. Aren’t you suppose to give me something?” she asked in a low voice. Mr. Hobbs was embarrassed and surprised.

  “Uh you have a phone call, Madame,” he said to her, leaning over the pool to hand her the phone.

  “Have you heard from Tom?” the baritone voice on the phone said.

  “No, Fred,” Julianna replied knowing who was speaking.

  “Keep an eye on him. The next couple of months will be turbulent,” Frederick replied.

  “I know,” she replied.

  “Remember, no matter how you feel about him, you still need to be by his side. He needs you,” Frederick said, knowing the kind of emotions Julianna had for Tom.

  “Okay,” Julianna said in a suspicious tone as she hung up. Her heart sank. Out of all the lovers she had had in the past century, there was no one like Tom. Tom was pure, powerful, kind and intellectual at the same time. A quality most members of the Order didn’t have.

  During her years in the Order, she had seen wars and peace. She had seen powerful men rise and fall, both within and outside the Order. Tom was the least likely to fall. Her seven years with him proved that. He was one with charismatic potential and youthful grace. His demeanor was always calculated and firm. She was absolutely sure he was the one.

  Nina Owen frantically searched for any trace of Tom on online databases. She used her connections with the district attorney to find out more. Nothing came up. Tom died seven years ago according to all reports. There was no government facial recognition ID on any other state or federal database across the world. Interpol had nothing on him. If he existed, he was a ghost. Still, the thought of Tom faking his death was elusive.

  “Why didn’t he remember me?”

  She checked the pictures of the damage done to her car. Official insurance report stated she hit an electric pole even though it defied all logic. Where did the blood come from? She reenacted the scenes in her head over and over again. She remembered the news of Tom’s plane crash. She remembered the funeral. Nothing made sense.

  “If that was Tom, he would have remembered me of all people,”

  She ruminated on every possible explanation. “Maybe he was just a look alike –A doppelganger of some sorts. The real Tom didn’t have a European accent,”

  She was on sick leave due to her accident. It was the first she’d had since the year started. Her workaholic tendencies prevented her from getting any free time.

  She scrambled through documentation, trying to find out who she saw. She glanced at the clock. She remembered his last words at the hospital. “6pm”

  She rushed to her walk-in closet, grabbed an outfit, put on a pair of jeans and a blouse, grabbed the keys to her rental and drove to the coffee shop on Biscayne Boulevard. She was determined to get some closure.

  “I’ll have another Chocolate Frappuccino,” Tom said to the Starbucks attendant. He was partially disappointed in his demise.

  “Will you like anything else?” the Starbucks attendant asked flirtatiously. Tom shook his head without replying. It was his third day at Starbucks. He stayed at the coffee shop all day hoping he could read a thought that will give him back his memories. He thought about Nina, but she was a dead end. If she knew him, he might have gained some of his memories back already. He
remembered the lessons he learned at the Order: post traumatic reactions to sudden traumatic events that might distort memories combined with hallucinations that distort strange faces with familiar faces. He was seated at the edge of the coffee store, waiting for his eighth Frappuccino.

  He read and observed everyone at the store. All had redundant futures and thoughts. Nothing pointed to him.

  “Here’s your drink, sir,” the store attendant said, handing him his drink. She smelled of lavender and the excess scent foretold how much she was into him. Her eyes gazed at him for a response.

  “Will you like anything else?” she asked flirtatiously again, hoping to gain his attention. Tom didn’t reply. Her facial expression changed. She felt snubbed and disrespected. Her self-esteem was hanging on a string and Tom was holding that string. She was about to walk away when Tom grabbed her arm. She felt a surge of energy in her body. She smiled uncontrollably. Her pheromones sent all the right signals and her feminine body was ready.

  “Look Miss Summers, I don’t mean any disrespect. You’re a beautiful woman. I’m not ignoring your flirtations, I’m just not the man for you and I don’t want to take advantage of you. Your future husband will walk into this store in a couple of days. When he does, you’ll know it’s him and everything will work out the way you want it. I promise,” Tom said rapidly. She was terrified by Tom’s sudden rush of words, but his smile made her calm.

  She had no idea how he knew her last name, but that was the last thing on her mind. She was flushed by his brief compliments. She smiled heavily. Tom let go of her arm. She was flustered with happiness and speechless. She trusted him. She trusted his words even though they defied all logic of future anticipation. His confidence and charm made his prediction believable. She walked away, hoping her husband was as charming as he was.

  Tom took a sip of his Frappuccino, hoping he didn’t distort her destiny by telling her about her future.

  “Tom,” a familiar voice called from behind, completely blindsiding him.