“Go back to your room, boy! Daddy and mommy are having a little talk that’s all!” Billy said in a harsh tone. Pablo didn’t move. Catherine cried.
“Pablo. Please go to your room,” She said, afraid he might hurt their son.
“No mom. Not till I know you’re okay,”
Billy was furious. He adjusted his zip, grabbed his belt then charged towards Pablo. “You need to learn to obey! You ungrateful son of a…”
Her motherly instincts kicked in. Catherine grabbed Billy’s leg in an attempt to stop him from hurting their son. He turned round towards her in fury then swung his other leg to her face. She felt a sharp pain on her jaw. She instantly became dizzy. She cried in pain, but he ignored her. He then charged towards Pablo in fury.
Pablo didn’t move a muscle. She watched in horror even though she could only see a blur. Time froze. Billy lifted his hands to swing his belt at Pablo. His hands remained in the air, unable to move. A force field blocked Billy’s hands.
“Do not! Do not hurt my mother again!” Pablo said with an unbelievable surge of energy. His voice changed. It was deeper and scarier. His eyes darkened. His face was red. Before Billy could comprehend what was happening, he found himself floating in the air, staring down at his son, confused. Catherine could not keep her eyes open. Her ears rang from Billy’s kick. The blood rolling down her face blinded her eyes. The entire situation felt unreal. Pablo was standing in the room, untouched. Billy was hanging in the air, gagging with his hands on his throat, like an invisible force was keeping him there.
“I’m going to kill you – you son of a bitch,” Billy blurted out in anger, still paralyzed with fear. Suddenly, Pablo yelled with all his might. The room shook. The dresser mirror shattered. The windows cracked. Billy flew across the room. His back smashed through the wooden walls. Billy passed out.
Catherine was afraid. She was too delirious to know what occurred. She gazed at her son then gazed at Billy. Blood streamed out of Pablo’s nose like a half open tap. Pablo collapsed. She tried to move towards him, but she was too weak. Her body ached. She could barely see. She too fainted.
26
September 11, 2001
08:00 Am. September 11, 2001.
Daniel Olivetti walked out of his limo without hesitating. He adjusted his suit then walked into the south tower of the World Trade Center. He had an urgent meeting with potential investors that would put Olivetti Corporation on the business investment map. His father, Frederick left him in charge of all business ventures the Olivetti family owned. He had complete authority to make decisions based solely on his discretion.
The mob war had not prevented him from doing his job. In fact, it only made his job better and easier. The FBI had convicted major heads of the mob families, the mob influence in New York had depreciated and most were converting to legitimate businesses. It was the perfect time to take Olivetti Corporation to the next level.
Two men, his guards, followed him as he pushed the elevator button to the 72nd floor.
08:05am. September 11, 2001.
Four Mexican men dressed in sharp suits walked into the south tower of the World Trade Center with one goal, kill Daniel Olivetti. The price was high and right. It was worth the risk of daylight exposure. It didn’t matter who saw them. They knew they had exactly twenty minutes to get to the 72nd floor, put two bullets into Daniel Olivetti’s head then run out before anyone had the chance to call the police.
They were ready for the worst possible scenario; a getaway car, machine guns and even C4s. It was going to be a perfect kill. They walked to the elevator then pushed the button to the 72nd floor.
08:10am. September 11, 2001.
Nick Russo, brother of Peter Russo, the union head who abused his power by trying to sleep with a union member’s wife, James Whitman, walked into the World Trade Center building. His brother’s death had mob written all over it. It was years ago, but he hadn’t forgotten. He patiently waited for the perfect time to kill Frederick Olivetti. Now, an anonymous tip was given to him. Frederick Olivetti was supposed to be in the building that day.
He had two members of a small crime family with him. They were amateurs, but were good at killing without living a mess. They had nothing to lose. They had no plans. They had two guns each and a desperate will to kill the head of the Olivetti family, Frederick. Nick Russo pushed the elevator button to the 72nd floor.
08:15am. September 11, 2001.
Frederick ran into the building. He was panting furiously. He had called Daniel’s home phone, but he wasn’t home. He had called the hotel room he stayed in, but his son didn’t pick up either. He had left a message in the front desk of the hotel lobby “DON’T GO TO WORK”. Daniel seemed to have missed all those messages by a small fraction of time. If he had left home five minutes later, he would have gotten his father’s call. If he had not taken a shower earlier, he would have gotten the hotel phone call. If the front desk manager wasn’t distracted by a customer, he would have been able to deliver the message to Daniel.
The Universe seemed to have a plan for them all. He gazed at all the elevators. He could already see that his son, Daniel, was on the 72nd floor. He could also see the two separate teams of assassins on their way to the 72nd floor. One of the killers wanted him, the others wanted his son, but would gladly take both their lives for extra incentives.
He had two choices; take the slow elevator or take the stairs to the 72th floor.
Without hesitating, he took the flight of stairs.
08:20am. September 11, 2001.
Daniel was seated in the office. It had a perfect view of the World Trade Center north tower. It was a perfect day and he had no idea what was coming for him. The room smelled like it had brand-new carpets. The magazines on the center table were neatly arranged.
His mind was fixated on the business deal. He was about to sign a contract with one of the wealthiest men in the world. His bodyguards sat next to him like regular partners. He gazed at his watch impatiently. His appointment was for 08:15am and the time was 08:25am. A beautiful secretary in her mid-twenties walked up to him. Her mini skirt hugged her butt tightly. She could barely walk in her heels and her long legs distracted his guards.
“Sir! uh Mister Olivetti. I’m sorry, he wouldn’t be able to make it to this meeting,” she said. Daniel’s face changed from impatience to disappointment. He wasn’t used to waiting for anyone. “Seriously? I had to sleep in a mediocre executive suite to make this meeting,” He replied.
“Daniel!” A voice called from behind. It was his father, Frederick. Daniel was shocked. His father had fear in his face, something he wasn’t used to seeing. The secretary gazed at Frederick, confused by what was going on.
“Sir! You shouldn’t be here,” she said. “It’s okay, it’s my father,” Daniel replied. “He’s part of the meeting,” he added.
“Well, sir, like I said, there’ll be no meeting today. The…”
“Daniel! We need to get out of here quick!” Frederick said, interrupting the secretary. Daniel stood up. “What’s going on, dad? I could have sealed the deal on my own,” Daniel replied, jumping into conclusions.
“It’s not the deal I’m worried about. They’re coming to kill you,”
Daniel’s facial reaction changed. “Okay! Sir, I’m going to have to call security,” the secretary said, in fear.
“Young lady, if you love your life, you should head back home. Your family would love to see you in good health tonight,” Frederick said in a brisk but harsh tone. She was scared. She didn’t know if it was a threat or an advice. Frederick grabbed Daniel. Daniel shrugged him off.
“What are you talking about, Dad? Don’t ruin this opportunity for me…for us. We can be completely legitimate,” Daniel replied as he gazed at the alarmed faces on both his guards. The secretary ran to another room in fear for her life. She picked up the phone in an attempt to dial security.
“Listen son! They’re here to kill you – the Sanchez!”
Just then
, four Mexican men walked into the room. They wore baseball hats, black jumpsuits and black gloves. They spotted Daniel immediately and someone who looked like Frederick. In seconds, they killed the two men standing behind Daniel before they had a chance to draw their weapons. They smiled, brought out their guns and pointed it at them. Frederick could hear the Secretary run out of the office. Daniel Froze.
Frederick’s nerves calmed as he examined an escape scenario. It was impossible to run without getting his son killed or injured.
“You need to be calm,” Frederick said to the four men. He couldn’t risk them shooting at him or his son because he knew it would expose his true or near immortality.
“Shut up!” one of them said as the other rigged the floor with some explosives. “We have to guarantee your death. It was the bosses order. It seems like it is a two for one kill,” one of the others said.
“If you don’t leave now, you will all die. I promise you that!” Frederick said.
“You don’t have a gun, amigo. How’s that supposed to happen?” the man said in a thick Mexican accent.
Just then, they heard a loud thunderous crash. Daniel was delirious. He looked outside the window. Something in the North tower exploded. There was smoke everywhere. People screamed. The building shook.
The Mexicans had fear in their eyes. They murmured to themselves as they gazed outside the window, still trying to keep the guns focused on Frederick and Daniel. “What the hell is going on?”
“I told you. We need to leave this building. Another plane is heading straight for this building,” Frederick said to the men, trying to shift their attention. Daniel glanced at his father. “You knew this would happen?” Daniel asked. He could hear screams all over. People yelling in fear as a thicker smoke began to build up.
“Stay where you are!”
Frederick knew the men wouldn’t listen. With swift precision, he pushed his son to the ground, then jabbed one of the men in the neck, instantly breaking his spine. Frederick systematically picked the gun up before the other three men knew what was going on. His body moved faster than the human eye.
First gun shot. Second gun shot. Third gun shot. All to Frederick’s chest, but Frederick stood still, without flinching. The men were frightened. “El Diablo,” one of them whispered.
One of the men ran to a corner. Frederick shot the two men standing. Daniel panicked in fear. His father was shot and yet, he still stood. He was sure he wasn’t wearing a vest because he could see his skin through the hole in his shirt.
”W- What!?”
“No time to explain, son,” He said as he grabbed him then dashed out of the office, leaving the last assassin alive.
“Dad. You…you have to explain why you are still standing. You were shot three times!” Daniel said as they made their way through the hallway. Nick Russo and the two other men arrived in front of them, blocking the exit. They pulled out their guns immediately they saw Frederick. The distance between them was significantly large. Frederick sighed in anger and frustration as he pushed Daniel to a hidden side of the hallway. There’s only one way out.
“Daniel! Listen to my instruction carefully. You have to go without me. Take the stairs and not the elevator. Don’t stop for any reason until you are five miles away from the building. Once you are safe, I want you to go to the nearest hospital…”
“B – But Father…”
“Listen!! This isn’t the time for an argument. You must go to the nearest hospital in Lower Manhattan. There’s a little boy there. His name is Pablo Sanchez. His hospital diagnosis will show severe brain damage. He is okay. I want you to take the boy and keep him safe…”
“k – Kidnap? W-Why is the grandson of Don Sanchez that important?”
“He is the son of Catherine and Walter, but they don’t know it. You must never tell them until the time is right. The Sanchez family thinks Pablo is theirs so they will seek revenge. Keep the family protected until the little boy grows up. He will know what to do to end the circle of vengeance. A tape will be provided to you by my lawyer after my death. All instructions will be given,” Frederick said briskly. Daniel attempted to argue, but his father’s cold look was distasteful. “Go now!!!!!”
He turned and ran towards the stairs, leaving his father alone. “I love you son,” Frederick said. He heard two gun shots. Daniel looked back. The last thing he saw was his father fall to the ground. “Keep running son!!!” Frederick Yelled. Daniel ran without stopping. He didn’t know why, but he felt a deeper urge to carry out his father’s instructions and a desperate need to save his own life.
Frederick waited until his son had gone out of sight the stood up. Surprise sprung on Nick Russo’s face. The two other men shook. Their legs felt like jelly and they could barely run. They shot at Frederick again and gain. This time, Frederick did not fall. He kept walked towards them like the bullets were small mosquito bites. People on the floor ran to the elevators, others ran to the stairs.
“What the fuck!” Nick Russo said. Frederick grabbed Russo, broke his arm, grabbed his gun and shot the two others on their knees before they could run away. Frederick then faced Russo.
“Your brother was a disrespectful citizen of the society. He misused his power and forced himself on many wives of junior union members. He deserved what he got and you know it. It’s quite unfortunate. I don’t see anything in your future. It means your life ends here,” Frederick said as he shot Nick on both knees.
“Your death will be more horrific once the building comes crashing to the ground,” he added without a smile on his face.
“What!” Nick yelled in pain as Frederick walked away calmly.
“Come back here you fucker! Kill me now or I’ll come back for you and your sons and your wife!” Nick Russo yelled out.
Frederick walked back to the office he came from. The Mexican assassin he left alive was standing by the window, watching the graphic image of horror, in fear and awe. A plane crashing into a building? What are the chances that that happened when he was there?
“Hey You!” The man turned. His face had a deeper look of fear as he gazed at Frederick. “El Diablo,” he said to himself again.
“You guys are funny. You came to kill me yet you call me the Devil. I’ll let you go, but you must disappear. Never return to the Sanchez or I’ll find you and your family. Run now or you would never live to see your daughter,” Frederick said.
The man said nothing. He was crippled with fear. Just then, the second plane crashed into the top floors of the building. The noise was loud. The man shook in fear as he fled. Frederick stood by the window unbothered by the outcome. He searched future scenarios to see if his son was safe.
“Frederick! Come on! We need to go!” Richard Bradford said, appearing from nowhere. Frederick wasn’t surprised by his presence. He had seen and calculated the timing of everything that day.
“It’s my last moment with normal humans. The rest of the world, my family, and my friends, will all think I’m dead after today. The world will never remain the same after today’s events. There will be questions and my grandson will have all the answers,” Frederick said as he ran out of the building with Richard Bradford. It was time to go to Rome forever. The Illuminati was desperate for his presence.
27
Present day
The day was chill and the sun was shining as bright as ever. The weather seemed to neglect the fact that four members of New York’s mob royal family had just died. A war was brewing. Members of the FBI were uneasy. Members of other mob families were restless. The media was running around the clock coverage of the quadruple death of the Olivetti family. Their Bodyguards and security were stricken with blame.
Representatives of the Russian mob, Chinese mob, and all Italian mobs from around the country, were hopelessly waiting for the new heir to the Olivetti throne. It was a system of politics none had anticipated. Don Olivetti had always balanced the power of mob families in the country. Thanks to his father, Frederick Olivetti, all mob f
amilies had successfully created a system of order; one that allowed a legal form of money laundry. A system that avoided unnecessary wars and a system that covered up their criminal activities from the Feds.
It had been two days since the Don of Dons died. Everyone impatiently waited for his Will of testament—the Will that will determine who the next Don is.
Tom got out of his limo with Dean in front of him. Reporters rushed to him like bees on honey. “Mister Olivetti, our sources say the death of your uncles was perpetuated by the Mexican Cartel. Is it true?”
“What next?”
“Who do you think killed your uncles?”
“Has the FBI informed you about who did it?
“How is the investigation going?”
Reporters blurted out their questions as Tom squeezed through them to get to the Olivetti Corporation building. “Sorry about that boss. If we had anticipated the press, we would have gone through the back,”
“No worries, we just have to get to the meeting on time. We’re late as it is,” Tom replied as he pushed the button to the elevator.
Two days earlier, the night of the bomb blast, at Walter Olivetti’s mansion. Nina Owen squinted her eyes as she struggled to see through the smoke. She couldn’t hear anything and there was a loud frequency noise ringing in her ears. She looked up. The only face she wanted to see, to understand the sudden chaos, was standing right by her. Time felt slow. She struggled to grasp the situation she was in.
“Take her to safety,” Tom said to Julianna via thoughts. Automatically, Julianna grabbed Nina then sped out of the room. Tom paused as he pondered all possibilities. He could run to the room full of his dead uncles and guards. It didn’t feel right. He could run to the steps where his father lay, injured. His father was fine. The injury was only minor. He could run after the killer who was less than ten minutes away from their location. Everyone else was safe. Distraught, but safe. People ran out of the building, screaming. He could see other guards protecting other members of the Olivetti family. Distinguished guests scrambled out of the house like scared cockroaches.
Olivetti: Illumination Page 23
