Olivetti: Illumination

by Tamilore Odimayo

  “Nina,” Tom said, standing up from his seat. He attempted to grab a seat for her, but she did so before he could move. She sat down and placed her bag on the table. She stared at him for one minute. He stared back at her rigorously. He couldn’t see or hear anything: no thoughts and nothing in her future or past.

  “Who are you?” Nina asked.

  “Tom. Thomas Olivetti,”

  “That’s impossible,” She said in a very straight tone. “That name belonged to someone in my past and he is dead,” She added.

  “Did you know him?” Tom leaned forward. “I mean, did you know him, personally?” Tom added again. She looked at him to see if he was joking, but he wasn’t. She could tell that he was very sincere about not knowing her.

  “Yes I knew him personally,” She said, folding her arms defensively. Tom looked at her closely. Now he was more curious than ever. “From your body language, he was more than your friend?” Tom asked. She became more uncomfortable.

  “If you’re Tom Olivetti, where have you been all these years?”

  “You were definitely not in the United States! That I know for sure!” she added, trying to ask the questions and lead the conversation. As a woman working in a male dominated corporate law firm, she had learned to lead conversations and business deals to whichever direction she wanted. Tom didn’t reply. He stared at her like a night owl.

  “Are you working for the government? That’s the only reasonable explanation. C.I.A? F.B.I? N.S.A?” she asked rapidly.

  “None of that. Truth is I came back for one purpose; to recover my memories,” Tom said. Nina felt hurt, but hid it.

  “You came back from where? An island? A desert? If you are Tom, you have loved ones who cried at your funeral. Your son grew up without a father. Your mother lost you before she had a chance to know you. Your disappearance has split your entire family,” Nina yelled sternly, intentionally leaving her past with him, aside.

  “I have a son?” Tom asked.

  “Yes,”

  “Our son?”

  “No. Your son. Remember Donna?” She said, trying to refresh his memory, but he still couldn’t remember. Tom sighed. Nina was frustrated.

  “Look! I’m sorry. I know you’re not him, I’m just trying to clarify some things. You – you probably just look alike—you have a very strong resemblance, the same name, but different accent and somewhat different persona,” she said then sighed heavily. “You’re frustrated and I’m frustrated,”

  “Why are you frustrated?” Nina asked.

  “I was supposed to meet someone here on the day of the accident and I’m afraid I missed the person,” Tom replied.

  “But now, I’m thinking, what if I wasn’t supposed to be here? What if it was destiny’s plan for you to hit me with your car at that very moment?” Tom added. Nina looked at him, weirdly.

  “Really? Well, that’s a pile of shit,” she replied.

  Tom laughed.

  “Well, right now, you’re the only one who knew a Tom Olivetti who died in a plane crash. I was told that I’ll regain my memories once I meet this person and since I still don’t remember, you might not be the one I’m supposed to see,” Tom replied.

  Nina paused for a moment, thinking. She thought about the times she spent with Tom and the amount of time it took her to get over his death.

  “Okay! Tom. Come see me at my office, tomorrow. I’ll help you figure it out. You might just be a ‘look alike Tom’ who doesn’t remember our first kiss…”

  “Aha so you were more than a friend!” Tom laughed. Nina tried to hide her smile, but was unsuccessful. Her face flushed with a hint of excitement. Her pupils dilated with sudden interest and her heart skipped a noticeable beat.

  “If I find out you’re a fraud. I’m a lawyer with some powerful friends. I’ll bring down the entire legal justice system on you!” She threatened.

  “Deal!” Tom replied. He stretched out his hands to shake her, but she didn’t respond. She stood up.

  “One more thing, what’s with the accent?” she asked curiously. Tom was confused. The question threw him off guard. “What accent?”

  “Never mind,” she said. She helped Tom pick his empty cup of Frappuccino. Tom smiled.

  “Thank you!”

  13

  August 24, 1964

  Frederick leaned over his bed to stop the annoying sound of his alarm clock. It was six in the morning. The autumn weather was setting in. He sighed as he got up from the bed, trying his best not to wake Clara.

  “Why do you always have to go jogging every morning?” Clara asked, moving towards him to prevent him from getting up.

  “Keeps me fit,” Frederick smiled. He kissed her on the cheek then leaned over to his side of the bed. She pulled him closer.

  “You don’t need it, you’re already super fit.” She said as she kissed him. They were both naked. Her body was warm and comforting. They could feel the sexual tension rise.

  “Don’t you want me to give you a special breakfast?” She smiled, kissing him more intensely. Just then, the baby started crying. It was Clara’s second child with Frederick. This time, she had an engagement ring on her finger. A ring that reminded her of everything they had been through; the assassinations of top New York crime bosses, the assassination of the president, her period of hiding, Frederick’s near death experience, his miraculous recovery and his period of disappearance—it was the only secret Frederick never discussed with Clara. No one knew where Frederick was for seven years and Freddy never put it up for discussion. All she knew was, he suddenly appeared from nowhere and made everything right. Everything became safe for her and her son. They made a lot of money, but lived a humble life. He was her everything.

  Still, his mystery was disturbing. She wondered why he was all about doing things at the right time, why he was never surprised when strange things happened, why he made frequent trips to unknown destinations and why he was always so secretive.

  She knew little about him. She knew he worked with Don Cruccifixo and she was sure he was more than capable of handling himself. The best thing about the new Freddy – he was a much better lover and a good father to her boys.

  “Well, I’m guessing the baby doesn’t want another baby,” Frederick joked as he jumped out of bed. She wore her robe then attended to the baby swiftly while Frederick put on his jogging clothes.

  “I’ll see you later sweetie,” Frederick said as he sprung out of the house.

  Lurking behind Frederick’s garden was an impatient man. He checked his wrist watch five times a minute. He stood there nervously. It was time for Freddy’s ritual jog, but it was 6:15am and Frederick still wasn’t out. Suddenly, he saw Frederick step out of the house. It was very unusual for Frederick to be late. Frederick was one to run immediately after closing the door behind him, but this time, he watched as Frederick gazed around his compound suspiciously.

  Frederick walked towards the garden slowly.

  “Get out of the bushes,” Frederick said to the man calmly. The man shivered as he stepped out of the garden with a small pistol. He pointed it at Freddy.

  “You came to my house with a gun pointed at me?” Frederick asked. He wore his gloves calmly, looking out for neighbors at the same time.

  “Shut up! I’m here to kill you and your wife,” the man replied, still afraid. Frederick’s calmness frightened him more. He glanced at the dry autumn leaves on the floor. He felt a gust of wind in his chest. Something wasn’t right about the scenario. “You’re the one with gun. Yet, you’re still afraid,” Frederick replied as he sort through the man’s mind.

  “Don Magliano sent you right?” Frederick asked.

  Francois slipped through the back door of Frederick’s house. The diversion going on outside was sufficient enough to block Frederick’s senses. He briskly made his way past the kitchen then walked up the stairs without making a sound. Because he was an assassin for the Illuminati, killing Clara was the easiest thing.

  He slowly walked through th
e hallway, towards the sound of the crying baby. Every step he took was calculated. He couldn’t afford to make any odd sounds because he knew Frederick would hear him from afar. He walked closer and closer. He sighted Clara. She was attempting to breastfeed her son while staring outside the window. Her white gown partially dropped from her side, exposing her shoulder. With Calculated steps and one stride, he twisted her neck. Before she fell, he grabbed the baby then placed the baby on the bed, safely. He gazed at her corpse one more time. He could already imagine the hell Frederick was about to create to avenge her death. Suddenly, he heard two gun shots outside. He fled.

  The man was shocked. He fired two bullets into Frederick’s chest. Frederick didn’t flinch. No blood. Nothing. He gazed at his gun in horror then glanced at Frederick’s calm face in deeper horror.

  “Uh what the fuck are you?” the man asked as he fired the rest of his bullets into Frederick’s chest. Frederick walked closer and closer without as much as a blink. The man was crippled with fear. His legs wobbled like dangling spaghetti as he tried to back away to gain composure. The air was still. He couldn’t breathe. His lungs felt tightened. Beads of sweat emerged on his forehead. His pupils were dilated. His heart began to beat faster. He wanted to run, but common sense told him he wouldn’t get far.

  “And you’re supposed to be the best?” Frederick replied. He snapped a tiny branch from a plant in his garden. By this time, the man was on his knees. His legs were too weak to stand.

  “You know what I’m doing?” Frederick said softly. “I’m using your fear against you…” Frederick added calmly as he observed the man tremble on his knees. “The wildest animals in the jungle use that against their prey. A lion can smell the fear of his prey and he uses that fear to inflict more fear…interestingly, you’d expect that based on the survival principle, the prey would run for survival…wrong! Preys are more likely to make silly mistakes when they are afraid…Lessons I learnt from the Illuminati Order,”

  He walked up to the well-groomed man who was on his knees, unable to speak and crippled with extreme fear.

  “I – I’m sorry,”

  “I wouldn’t have killed you, but now that you shot me and can still see me standing, I have to. I have to keep the secret of the Order…” Frederick said beneath his breath.

  “After all, no human should live with the knowledge that another human can resist bullets,” Frederick added in a sadistic tone. The man felt powerless. He could barely move yet he was very aware of what was about to happen. Inevitable death. Frederick moved closer to the man. He stuck the snapped branch right under the man’s trachea. He watched as the man dropped to the ground with his hand on his neck. For two whole minutes, the man struggled to breathe. Sips of air went through his trachea. Blood flooded his neck slowly like a swimming pool being filled up. It slowly became more difficult to breathe.

  “You’re okay. Just let it go,” Frederick whispered. Soon after, the man transcended into the land of the dead, with his eyes wide open.

  Frederick adjusted himself. He sighed with relief then paused halfway. A flash of the next ten minutes of his life emerged in his head. Horror filled his face. He felt stupid. He ran to the front porch, yanked the door open, dashed into the house, made his way up the staircase then arrived in his bedroom. There, lying on the floor, was his soon to be wife, Clara. She was dead. No blood. Her neck was twisted like an animal balloon. Beside her, on the bed, was his son. Daniel wasn’t awake yet. He was shocked.

  “Oh no, no, no, no”. He was tricked. The dead man at his garden was just a diversion for the real target – Clara. He rushed up to her to feel her pulse even though he knew she was already dead.

  “No! Please don’t die!” Frederick said to himself, neglecting the blood on his shirt that came from the bullet wounds he had survived from. He sat down beside his bed with Clara on his lap. Dumbfounded. Lost. Deceived. In him, was the enormous feeling of raging anger for Don Magliano. He imagined multiple ways to inflict pain on Clara’s killer. He was oblivious. He felt stupid for falling for a dumb trap.

  He completely zoned out, but was still aware of his surroundings. He could hear the neighbor dial 911 a house away after seeing the dead body on his garden floor. Soon after, he could hear the sirens. He could hear the footsteps of the police in the front yard and the ambulance swerving into his street.

  The policemen barged the front door down. He could hear the fast heartbeat of each policeman from afar.

  “Anyone home? This is the Police! Show yourself!” The policemen asked as they made their way upstairs into Freddy’s room.

  “Shit!” one of them said, in horror and shock—a lifeless woman, a crying baby and a man with a cold glare.

  “Step away from the body sir!” the policemen yelled. He saw his future. There was no way to escape time in jail.

  The Federal maximum security facility boomed with family and friends of inmates. On the right side of the room Prison Guards stood alert, watching every inch and corner of the room for any signs of contraband items. For special inmates—those who had committed grievous crimes, visiting was only allowed through perforated glass windows. Don Olivetti spotted Frederick. He smiled. He rushed to a nearby seat, grabbed the intercom telephone then cleared his throat. Frederick looked different in an orange jumpsuit. He was a wolf in the midst of dogs.

  “Freddy! How you doing man? What’s this I hear about you refusing an attorney?” Don Cruccifixo asked through the glass that divided them.

  “I just need some time to think,” Freddy replied with a defeated look. No member of the Order, including Francois came to visit nor tried to contact him. Tragic.

  “Think? You’ve got two boys waiting for their father. What do you need to think about?” Don Cruccifixo replied, impatiently. Over the years, Don Cruccifixo and Freddy had become close acquaintances. Frederick acted as a consultant to their illegal businesses and offered many ‘substantial information’ that helped grow Don Cruccifixo’s business.

  “Don Magliano did this,” Frederick whispered. “We know,” Don Cruccifixo replied without a hint of surprise.

  “Look Fred, we need you. I have hired the best lawyer to get you out of here. There’s no proof you killed Clara and there’s no proof you killed that man outside your garden. You could walk away with self-defense,” Don Cruccifixo replied.

  Frederick sighed. “If I wanted to get out of here, I would have. There’s no stopping me with all the connections I have.” Frederick replied. “But there’s something I’m trying to figure out. How could anyone plan such a sophisticated hit? Against me? How did they know I’ll be too preoccupied with the man outside to hear my wife’s killer? There was no noise in the house prior to her death? I would have heard. I should have heard. I should have paid attention. I should have seen it coming,” Frederick added. Don Cruccifixo was confused and frustrated. He didn’t hide it. He knew Frederick as a knowledgeable man, no doubt, but he never understood why Frederick’s Intel was always so precise.

  “What! C’mon! Enough of your psychic prediction crap! We all make mistakes sometimes. You’re human! We are losing more money every day. The longer you stay here, the more difficult it is for us to stay afloat. The other families are losing respect. If anything, get out of this shithole and avenge her death. You being here makes us look weak,” Don Cruccifixo yelled in frustration.

  14

  Present day

  “Miss Owen, there’s a Tom here to see you,” Nina’s secretary said. “Okay, tell him to come in,” Nina replied with a smile on her face. She had been anticipating his visit for days. She checked her hair then adjusted her clothes. This time, she was wearing a black suit that hugged her perfect body firmly. Her long dark hair was tied professionally to the back with a hint of makeup on her face.

  Tom walked into her office with perfect grace. His presence made her heart skip a beat. She glanced at his outfit; Khaki pants, white shirt and a blue blazer with the same black suede shoes he had worn the day of the accident.
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br />   “Hello, Miss Owen,” he said formally.

  “Please call me Nina. No need for formalities,” Nina said with mild discomfort. She gestured to him to take a seat while she stood up and stared at the open window of her office building. She tried to collect herself. It was difficult to remain calm and much difficult to retain her excitement. Her new found discovery had a sublime healing effect of all the relationship troubles she had faced in the past years; her lack of commitment to men and her bad luck with men. All might soon end with the reconciliation of her unconscious eternal love for a man she thought died years ago.

  Tom could feel her excitement, but couldn’t read her thoughts – it was clouded like a dirty cassette tape or rather a distorted radio frequency. Nina finally faced Tom. Both stared at each other for what seemed like forever. Tom was different. His hair was longer, his skin tone was evenly tanned, he was more muscular and definitely taller. His beard was neatly trimmed. It looked too perfect – beyond the capabilities of any professional male cosmetologist.

  She cleared her throat to halt the silence.

  “Tom,” She started. She picked up a manila folder from her desk.

  “Yes?”

  “I now know you didn’t lie to me about your name. You are Thomas Olivetti, son of Walter Olivetti,” She replied. That wasn’t news. Tom didn’t have any surprised facial reaction.

  “I took the liberty of verifying your finger prints with a colleague of mine in the New York District Attorney’s office,” She added. That surprised Tom. He didn’t see that coming. His ability to see glimpses of the future didn’t help when Nina was present.

  “Yes! Remember your coffee cup at Starbucks? That’s where I got your finger prints. Based on those prints, you are Thomas Olivetti,” Nina added as she walked towards her office door to lock it. She closed the window blinders then walked towards Tom in a planned and timely fashion.