Olivetti: Illumination

by Tamilore Odimayo

  “Relax,” Frederick whispered to the lawyer. To him, life was boring, most things didn’t surprise him. His future was very clear when he wasn’t distracted.

  “What do you mean? This is the verdict that determines the next years of our lives,” the lawyer whispered back.

  “We won the case already.” Frederick replied with a smile that sent the lawyer into a state of confusion and self-doubt.

  “After twelve hours of deliberation, we the Jury came with this conclusion based on all evidence, beyond reasonable doubt. For twenty-five counts of homicide against members of the Patricelli family we find Frederick Olivetti not guilty...” the Head Juror read.

  Members of the audience had mixed reactions. They murmured among themselves.

  “Order!” the Judge yelled, slamming his gable on his desk continuously. The audience was suddenly quiet again.

  “For three counts of trafficking Narcotic drugs, we find Frederick Olivetti not guilty…” the Head Juror continued.

  “Liars!” a man from the audience yelled. The audience became more restless. Frederick watched as two court officers dragged the man out of the court. The Judge slammed his gable on his desk again. “Order! Order!”

  The audience became silent again.

  “If there is any form of disorderly conduct again, I’ll hold that person in jail for contempt of the court,” The judge yelled. The court atmosphere became calm and tense at the same time. “Go on,” The judge said to the Head Juror.

  “For one count of man slaughter against his fiancé, we find the defendant, Frederick Olivetti, not guilty. For one count of man slaughter against her supposed killer, we find the defendant, Frederick Olivetti, not guilty,” the head Juror read.

  The audience was in uproar. Some cussed under their teeth and some smiled with relief. Frederick Olivetti’s smiled with relief. The District Attorney and State prosecutors had a look of angry defeat on their face. Frederick’s son, Daniel Olivetti had a solemn smile on his face. It was over. A one month trial with intense questioning, hung juries and case reviews was finally over. Frederick stood up, then adjusted his suit.

  “I told you,” he whispered into the lawyer’s ear.

  Without hesitating, he made his way to his kids and walked outside the court. A mob of reporters surrounded them.

  “Frederick Olivetti! How does it feel to be a free man?” a reporter yelled, holding a microphone at Frederick.

  “It feels the same as being locked up,” Frederick replied with a smile. Reporters struggled to get a response from Frederick. “Mister Olivetti, do you feel you deserved that verdict?” Another reporter yelled out. “Are you going to continue as the mob vigilante?”

  The lawyers tried to control the crowd by answering some questions. Frederick walked briskly to the black limo waiting in front of the court building. His son jumped in then the Nanny. Frederick handed the baby to the Nanny. Frederick entered the limo. Inside the Limo, Don Cruccifixo smiled with relief. He held out a glass of champagne.

  “Aha we did it!” Don Cruccifixo said.

  “Thanks to you my friend. Thanks to you,” Frederick replied.

  “What next?” Don Cruccifixo replied.

  “We end them and finish what they started,” Frederick answered vehemently.

  “We are interrupting this program to bring the Breaking news. It has been reported that Italian mafia crime boss Don Magliano has been murdered along with twenty of his top crew members. Police are currently investigating the crime scene. Sources from the New York City Police department have reason to believe that it is tied to an ongoing mob war. Sources also claim that over hundred million dollars in cocaine and goods was stolen. Representatives from the FBI also claim that the death of Don Magliano will trigger a war against the top crime families. We are however unsure of who perpetuated these crimes. Some have reason to believe that the recent Jury verdict of Frederick Olivetti was tied to their deaths. My name is Anthony Carpenter reporting for WNN,”

  Don Cruccifixo switched off the TV. He had a mixture of happiness and fear on his face. Even after the death of Don Magliano, Frederick Olivetti still seemed blood thirsty.

  “That’s done,” Don Cruccifixo said to Frederick.

  “Yes! Finally!” Freddy replied with no emotional reaction of excitement nor satisfaction.

  “What’s the matter, friend? We just made a hundred million dollars,” Don Cruccifixo said. He couldn’t understand Frederick – Frederick always seemed to live in his head – he was tactical, discreet and soft spoken. Ever since his big court win, he had become reclusive and paranoid. He now lived in a twenty bedroom mansion in Long Island with more than ten guards constantly watching the premises.

  Both his sons were under twenty-four hour protection.

  “There’s nothing wrong, it’s just not over. The Russians and the Irish will soon want a bite in our venture. They might need to be eliminated,” Frederick replied in a soft spoken voice.

  Don Cruccifixo was alarmed. “More killing eh?” Don Cruccifixo asked. Frederick nodded.

  “Look, I know Clara’s death did some damage. But you gotta let go,” Don Cruccifixo added. Frederick sighed.

  “I’m over that. Don Magliano is dead. That’s all that matters. But…”

  “But what?”

  “But it still doesn’t feel right. There’s something missing in the crime scene. I would have heard footsteps in the house. I didn’t” Frederick replied.

  “Hey! You gotta stop! Let go!” Don Cruccifixo said. Frederick shook his head.

  “I need to draw an old friend closer,” Frederick replied as he walked out of the room.

  It was a solemn night in New York. In a luxurious executive suite at the Hilton Towers, Senator William was lying on his bed. Beside him was a blonde escort. The lights were off. After a long senate hearing, Senator William decided to ease his stress the best way he knew how – paying for a one thousand dollar call-girl.

  It was dark, he could hear himself breathe. He could hear the blonde lady who he barely knew, breathe. She was better than his wife. At least, he didn’t have to listen to a woman whine about the little time he spent at home with his family. She was there to satisfy his high sexual desires. He remembered Frederick, the man he attempted to dispose. As a member of the Free Masons, he was untouchable. Members of the illuminati respected the Masons, but only to an extent. He flipped over on the bed to leave room for his protruding belly, desperate to get a shut eye before his meeting the following day.

  “Senator William!” Frederick called out. The lights came on. Senator William jerked up. He struggled to adjust his eyes to the bright light. His escort was drunk and asleep.

  “Frederick!? What are you doing here?” Senator William asked, alarmed. Frederick stood beside the bed dressed in a grey suit and black overcoat. He had black gloves on that terrified Senator William.

  “You know why I’m here. Where’s Francois?” Frederick asked.

  “Uh I don’t know. Aren’t you guys supposed to be…”

  “Supposed to be what?”

  Senator Williams stood up from the bed and walked to the living section of the room, wearing boxers alone. The fat on his body jiggled like Jelly. It made Frederick wonder how any woman could have sex with him for money. He grabbed a bottle of scotch and poured two glasses in an attempt to look casual.

  “Look Frederick. I haven’t seen Francois ever since your…”

  “I know,” Frederick sighed.

  “Don’t you guys have a way to meet or communicate? Like the psychic thing you guys do…” Senator William asked. Frederick drank the whole glass of scotch.

  “We’re not like you Free Masons. We’re not allowed to contact…”

  He paused then gazed into Senator William’s eyes. He read his thoughts – everything from the moment they last met to the present day. He could see his past. Senator William suddenly looked frightened.

  “You knew!”

  “Knew what?”

  “You knew a
bout the hit. Didn’t you?”

  “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about, Fred,” Senator William’s lied. He sounded standoffish, like a child lying to his parents about not stealing the last piece of cake in the fridge.

  Frederick became angry. Senator William knew about the hit. Killing Clara and attempting to kill Frederick was an attempt to clean up the truth about the JFK assassination.

  “So you and Francois planned this huh? You killed Clara, you brought up my past charges for the killing of the Patricellis and Morettis, exposed the drug trafficking and planted evidence to suggest I killed Clara. You wanted me to rot in jail for the sins we all committed,” Frederick said, beneath his teeth.

  “Uh I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Senator William replied, walking towards the phone. Frederick rushed towards him then slammed him on the wall.

  “What are you going to do? Kill a United States Senator?” Senator Williams threatened. Frederick boiled inside. He didn’t care that Senator Williams had knowledge about the hit. He hated his cockiness. He hated his bravado and most importantly he hated the lack of fear Senator William’s had.

  “Oh I’m not going to kill you,” he replied. Senator Williams became temporarily at ease.

  “The news headline tomorrows; you died of a heart attack next to a prostitute. How’s that for publicity?” Frederick said, jabbing him systematically in the center of his chest. He hit the right spot without cracking a single bone. It sent a sudden shock to his heart. It began to beat rapidly then slowly stopped. Senator William struggled. He wrestled with the pain. There was no more oxygen in his brain. Frederick lifted the two hundred and fifty pound Senator with ease and dragged him back to the bed.

  “Shush the pain will go away in three minutes. After that, you’ll feel dead and alive at the same time. Let’s just hope the pain doesn’t last three minutes– that’s a mighty long time. It’ll feel like an eternity,” Frederick said, whispering in his ear and covering him up with the blanket. His brain was begging to shut down as he was strapped off oxygen. The last face he saw – Frederick looking down at him with a vengeful frown.

  16

  Present day

  Dean woke up to five faces looking down at him. He was on the living room couch. The last thing he could remember was seeing Tom’s ghost standing in front of him. His ghost seemed so real. He was the one person he vowed to protect and the one person he failed to protect. Ever since Tom’s false death, Dean went into a reclusive state. The only thing that made the guilt bearable was watching over Nina from a distance. There he was again, staring down at him—Tom’s ghost or was it really Tom?

  Dean jumped up from the couch.

  “What the hell is going on?” Dean yelled, glancing at Tom then glancing at the others in the room. He was panting heavily. Nausea was setting in again.

  “Tom’s alive,” Nina said in a low voice.

  “No! I was there with your father when your body was identified. I helped identify your body. It was you. I was a hundred percent sure it was you…the height, the weight, despite the burns I knew it was you,” Dean said incoherently.

  Tom didn’t remember him, but he had read Dean’s thoughts long enough to know most things about Dean.

  “It’s me, man,” Tom added casually. Dean walked to a chair at the other end of the living room, trying to contain his anxiety and his rambling thoughts.

  “So you’re dead? I suppose Don Olivetti arranged a fake death?” Dean said to himself. “Don Frederick Olivetti not Don Daniel Olivetti,” Tom thought.

  “That explains why he told me to tail Nina,” Dean added.

  “What!” Nina yelled, shocked.

  “He knows you’ve been looking into Tom’s files. He knows you verified his finger prints. It makes sense. It all makes sense. I knew something felt wrong,” Dean replied. “You’ve been following me?” Nina scoffed.

  “This is bad. This is bad. This is bad,” Dean said to himself over and over again, ignoring Nina’s question. He knew the political ramifications of faking Tom’s death. Seven years of peace. Now that Tom had returned, there will be seven years of hell. Everyone else in the room was dumbfounded, except Tom. Tom signaled to his mother who in turn signaled to the maid and her two guards to give them some privacy. They waited till they all left.

  “This is going to change everything,” Dean said remembering, the feud between the Sanchez family and the Olivettis.

  “Yes it is,” Tom replied.

  “I can’t afford to lose you anymore,” Catherine said to Tom.

  “It’s not me I’m worried about,” Tom replied confidently as he stared deeply into space.

  “Then who?” Nina asked. The whole room was quiet.

  “You can’t tell anyone about me. Not even my father. Dean, you’ll make a false claim to my uncle that Nina is having some emotional breakdown. Mom, whatever you do, don’t tell dad. Your maid and guards?” Tom asked.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll handle them. They won’t say anything,” Catherine replied. Nina looked at Tom. Even though he couldn’t read her mind, he understood what her question was.

  “We have to keep this to ourselves until I remember everything,” He whispered in her ears.

  “We should be leaving now,” Tom said to them.

  “Wait! Now that you’re back, you’ll need protection” Dean called out to Tom before he could leave.

  “Trust me, I don’t need protection anymore,” Tom replied. He could tell that they all had questions. He could hear the questions in their thoughts loud and clear. Well, except Nina’s thoughts.

  Tom and Nina walked to the front door, leaving both Catherine and Dean dumbfounded.

  “One more thing, mom. Erase your security tapes – all of them. including the ones in the front lobby. Uncle Dan’s curiosity won’t stop with Dean’s word,” Tom added. Catherine nodded as Tom walked out of the apartment. She was ecstatic and afraid. She hoped he would return.

  On A1A/Terminal Island—the road leading into and out of Fisher Island, Detective Hernandez was seated in a cop car. He had been tailing someone—Dean. He was hired by the Mexican cartel to follow up on any sudden moves Dean made. Don Sanchez suspected that Tom wasn’t dead—if he was alive, Dean would be the first lead to him.

  He ignored all police radio calls. The state didn’t pay him enough money to manage his extensive lifestyle. He was eating a pack of tortilla chips and drinking a diet coke when his eyes caught something. He nearly choked. He looked again to be sure. A range rover stopped at the stop sign. In it, Tom Olivetti and another woman.

  He brought out his camera to be sure. He zoomed in and took some pictures. He then compared the face with the last picture of Tom Olivetti at the airport, before he allegedly died.

  “Shit it’s him,” he said to himself as he quickly recorded the car’s license plate.

  He waited for the results to pop up on the police database. He saw a recent accident recorded on the driver’s license of Nina Owen.

  “Aventura hospital. Good. I’m about to find out what is really going on. Tom Olivetti, alive? I never saw this coming. There has got to be a good explanation for this. Don Sanchez will be pleased,”

  Don Olivetti waited patiently in his office for Dean’s call. “Why is she looking into him now? After all these years,”

  Just then, Walter walked into the office. “What’s the problem? You left the meeting early,”

  Don Olivetti shook his head.

  “Nothing! Something redundant came up!” Don Olivetti replied. Walter was tired.

  “Oh well then, I’ll be flying to see Catherine for the weekend,” Walter said as he was about to leave the office. He wasn’t worried about anything. They had had seven years of peace. The only problems that occurred between mob families were too petty to be noticed.

  “Okay. Be safe!” Don Olivetti replied as Walter walked out.

  Two seconds later, Dean called. Don Olivetti picked up. “Hey boss! I’m still tailing Nina,”

&
nbsp; “And?”

  “I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. She is probably just missing Tom and wants to find out the truth behind his death,” Dean Lied.

  “Why now?” Don Olivetti thought.

  “Well okay. Keep tracking her. She’s a lawyer now and we don’t want her in our business,” Don Olivetti replied then hung up.

  Her law firm was closed for the weekend. Nina arrived in the office building to drop Tom off to pick up his car. He waited until she pulled over right next to his car. Nina sighed.

  “Thanks,” Tom said. The energy in the car was severely tense, sexually. They had a mutual attraction that was incomparable to anything he had ever felt.

  “Uh you’re welcome,” Nina replied, trying to avoid looking into Tom’s eyes. Her hands clenched the steering wheel nervously. She didn’t want him to leave her sight, but was too afraid to tell him that. Tom was quiet. He analyzed his future rigorously. His decisions had changed things

  “So you still don’t remember anything?” Nina asked. Tom shook his head and sighed heavily.

  “Don’t worry, we haven’t tried everything yet,” Nina replied. Tom smiled, “I almost forgot about the kiss you owe me.”

  “Liar,” Nina joked. They laughed shyly. Suddenly, they stopped. She was staring at his lips. He was staring at hers. The energy in the car was incredible. Her scent drew him closer. He hadn’t kissed her yet, but could already taste her lips. Memories of Tom ransacked her mind like a trapped tornado. She moved closer to his lips. She remembered their first kiss. Her mind wandered to the time she thought Tom was going to die. She remembered when she was kidnapped and how selfless she felt towards him. She remembered feeling the need to protect Tom even if he did a better job at protecting her. She remembered when she lost him.