Olivetti: Illumination

by Tamilore Odimayo

  Footsteps of someone unfamiliar walked closer to his location. Don Sanchez smiled.

  “I was told an Olivetti was here. I couldn’t believe it. Is it my birthday? I mean, what did I do to deserve such blessings?” Don Sanchez mocked in his Mexican accent.

  Tom said nothing. He didn’t return a smile. He didn’t even grant him the benefit of eye contact.

  “What did you think? You were going to waltz in here and get your revenge? This is Mexico. I can kill you and no one will ever know you even crossed the borders!” Don Sanchez said. “Aren’t you going to say something boy?”

  Tom didn’t reply. He felt insulted. “Get him on the chains,” Don Sanchez commanded. Six men grabbed Tom, removed his jacket, tied him to a chain and pulled him up to hang from the ceiling walls.

  “See, in my country…by my country, I mean Mexico. I run things. I have the connections to make your life hell. You know why? Because there’s no Olivetti influence here. Now that your Uncles are dead, well, it remains your father and Sebastian, those two will have to die soon. I’ll rather cut off your head, package it in UPS mail and send it to your father first. I want him to die slowly, knowing the repercussions of the pain he has inflicted on my family,” He waited for Tom to react, but Tom didn’t say a word. He stared into space like he was daydreaming.

  Don Sanchez scoffed then continued. “And your mother, Catherine…oh your mother. She killed my son, Billy. I will kill her, but before I do, I’ll rape her and let every single one of my men here rape her till she begs to die,” He added.

  Tom shrugged. The chains dangled a little. “Keep talking,” Tom said in a vehement tone. The grey jean he wore was stained. The twelve men surrounding the room seemed to be agitated.

  Someone walked into the room then whispered something to Don Sanchez. He paused then looked at Tom.

  “Apparently, word got out that you’re here. Other Cartel bosses want to see you and…” he paused then continued. “I’ll be back! They don’t want you dead just yet. Someone special wants to see you. El Presidente,” he said as he walked out of the room.

  “Where the hell have you guys been?” Agent Parker yelled. “I’ve been calling you non-stop for hours,” he added as Agent Weaver and Kimberly walked into the crime scene by the bay area. Cops surrounded the scene. Chavez’s body was dangling on a pole. His dead body was blue and seemed to be degenerating under the exposed weather. His eyes were wide open and there was a gun cartridge tied to his left hand. There were no signs of wounds.

  “What the hell is this?” Agent Weaver asked. Parker looked at Weaver then looked at Kimberly. He smiled. “Oh don’t try to change the topic. I see what’s going on. You two are finally hooking up eh?”

  Kimberly struggled to hide her smile as she walked towards the electric pole to observe the body. “Shut up Parker!” Weaver said underneath his teeth. Parker laughed then stopped as soon as he spotted Mark Shaw, the FBI Director.

  “What the hell is this?” Mark Shaw asked.

  “Exactly my question, sir!” Agent Weaver replied as Kimberly walked back towards them.

  “Well, while you two were spooning, I found a tape. This dead man here, was at the Olivetti party nights ago. I believe he orchestrated the bombs and this is a sign of retaliation from the Olivettis,” Parker replied.

  Mark Shaw looked at Kimberly then looked at Weaver. “Tom was right about you two after all. Glad to know the little lad has strange psychic abilities,” Mark Shaw said then walked up to the body. They looked at each other awkwardly, trying not to smile. His smug face seemed uninterested in the relationship between Kimberly and Weaver.

  “This definitely has mob written all over it. We can’t be sure it’s the Olivettis though. It might be some other family. From his Mexican looks, I’m sure he was sent by the Cartels,” Mark Shaw said then walked away from the crime scene. He stopped then turned towards them.

  “Question the Olivettis. And do it nicely. I don’t want to go through unnecessary lawsuits,” he added as he walked away.

  Weaver sighed. Just when he thought Kimberly could take his mind off his obsession with locking the Olivettis, a dead Mexican shows up. How convenient.

  Kimberly stared at the body. “Whomever did this had the power to hide his body, but displayed it this way to send a message. Perhaps, a message that says ‘we’re still in control’,”

  “I agree,” Weaver said as he brought out his handkerchief to cover his nose from the stench oozing from the dead corpse. “It’s egotistical. No signs of strangulation, no bullet wounds, just a cut on his head that’s already healed. This shows the man was perhaps injured, captured then killed and the killer…well, the killer must have special skills and he wants to show the world that he can do it again,” she said.

  “But how? You said it yourself, there are no wounds worth dying from, no gun shots, and no strangulations. How was this Mexican killed?” Parker asked.

  “Maybe poison,” Weaver suggested.

  “I doubt it. Most people who get poisoned die with their eyes closed,” Kimberly replied.

  Parker sighed. “I guess we’ll just have to find out from autopsy reports and hope we can get a time of death,”

  “That’ll be nearly impossible. This body looks like it was preserved before it was displayed. Finding a time of death will be impossible,” a forensic expert said as he passed by the three having a conversation.

  “Well like I said, whomever did this is a smart egotistical maniac,” Kimberly said. They all looked at each other.

  “I’m so desperate to find this egotistical maniac,” Weaver replied as he walked towards the car.

  29

  September 11-12, 2001

  Daniel Olivetti ran faster than he thought he could. He tried not to look back. His father’s instructions echoed in his brain, ‘Run and don’t stop until you’re five miles away from the building.” So he kept running, even though his legs were tired and almost giving up. He ignored the crowd of people looking up at the two tallest buildings. His suit was dusty. He was sweaty. His muscles were tired. His eyes were weak with tears as he remembered the last image of his father, shot twice and on the floor. His father came to save him and he blamed himself for the condition he left his father in. He could have helped. He could have saved his father, but he felt too selfish to save his father.

  He finally stopped then looked back at the twin towers. Two airplanes were in each. What transpired before him looked like a Hollywood film. It was impossible. The American government would never approve such. Perhaps, it was a nightmare. That was impossible too. The pain and horror he had seen was too real. He wanted to go back. He wanted to save his father, Frederick.

  He didn’t want to live the rest of his life with the memory of his father on the floor. He ran towards the twin towers. Suddenly, the most horrific thing happened. People screamed. They were running towards the opposite direction, away from the towers. It was impossible. It was worse than a dream. A nightmare. How? People fled. People stumbled upon each other. Taxi cabs tried to drive away, but it all happened too fast. The building came crashing like a pile of cards. A ball of dust and smoke engulfed the area.

  Daniel couldn’t move any further. He knelt down on one knee as he cried out in anger. “Father!!!!!!”

  Catherine eyes squinted. It felt heavy. She could barely open it. An image of a doctor was right beside her. His lips were moving, but she couldn’t make out the words. She looked around. She realized she was in a hospital. Two other images were present in her room, but she couldn’t make out the images clearly. Panic started to rise through her chest. What happened? The last thing she could remember was Billy beating her up and Pablo walking into the room. Everything else was fuzzy.

  “Ma’am! Ma’am! We need to discharge you now to make room for other patients,” the Doctor emphasized. She ignored the Doctor as she managed to focus on each image in the room. Her father was standing by the door with his bodyguard, gazing at the television instead of her. “Why!? Why am
I here?” she finally replied. Her head pounded like beating drums.

  Don Cruccifixo turned towards her immediately. “Catherine!” he walked up to her in complete fear, but it didn’t look like he was afraid of what happened to her. Something else terrified him. His hands trembled like that of a drug addict. His eyes were red like he hadn’t slept all night.

  “W-what happened father?” Catherine asked.

  “T-there was an accident at your place. They found you bleeding on the floor,” Don Cruccifixo said then quickly glanced at the television again. She noticed that the Doctor occasionally glanced at the television too.

  “W-what about my son? W-what about Pablo?” she asked in a state of frenzy as the memories of the fuzzy evening blew through her head: she remembered Pablo passing out on the floor. But her previous memory was next to impossible. Billy, hanging in the air by an unforeseen force? How could that have happened? She then remembered slowly passing out. She reached out her hand to feel the bandage on her head.

  “He is in the children’s ward. I suggest you see him after the Nurse checks up on you. We think he suffered brain damage. But he’s functioning normally, from all indications. His Doctor will let you know more,” the Doctor said, quickly signed something on a piece of paper then walked out of the room, while glancing at the television in a state of horror. She finally looked at the TV to see everyone’s interest. She couldn’t focus or get his attention. He was too preoccupied with his thoughts to acknowledge her presence.

  Two buildings and a cloud of smoke? She wanted to know more, but she was too preoccupied with thoughts of Pablo’s safety to care.

  The machines beeped as she removed all the wires attached to her body. She couldn’t wait for the nurses to come. She didn’t know what day it was. She didn’t know what time it was. All she wanted to do was see her son to know he didn’t suffer more than he was supposed to, due to Billy’s drunken rage.

  Daniel Olivetti stormed into the hospital. Everywhere was crowded. Injured civilians swamped the entire hospital. Doctors where in a state of frenzy. The nurses weren’t trained for a high influx of patients. Blood was everywhere. Paramedics stormed in and out of the building with injured citizens. His head swirled. Why? Why couldn’t he have time to mourn his father’s death? What was he supposed to tell his family? That he left his father on the floor, dying, in the building? That his father was probably a pile of dust already? His father’s body might never be found under the pile of rubble. There wouldn’t be an open casket funeral. Cecilia’s heart will break when she finds out.

  The thought of killing every member of the Sanchez family sweetened his mind. Now that he was Don, he could make any decisions he wanted but he braced himself to obey his father’s last wishes, kidnap the boy.

  He looked around for help. There was a nurse standing at a corner. People surrounded her as they listened to her instructions. “E-excuse me I’m looking for my son, Pablo Sanchez,” Daniel Olivetti lied, to the nurse.

  “Uh all children are in the children’s ward. Follow the signs,” she replied briskly as she attended to the other people shouting out their questions. Daniel looked around. He saw the signs. He followed the arrowed directions to the children’s ward. The demand for hospital space had increased and the children’s ward was now occupied by injured adults. He didn’t know how he was supposed to find a boy whom he had never seen. A nurse in scrubs briskly walked by. “E-excuse me. Have you seen a boy, Pablo Sanchez?”

  She ignored him and kept walking. He turned towards another nurse. “H-have you seen Pablo Sanchez. M-my son?”

  She too ignored him. He sighed then decided to go from room to room till he found a boy that matched his father’s description. He went to the first room; a little girl and her parents were there. He went to the second room, it was occupied by injured adults. He went to the third room, the same thing. The fourth and fifth room, the same thing. He ran back to the hallway. It seemed like there were hundreds of rooms he had to check. He was frustrated. None of the nurses were paying attention to him.

  Suddenly, a tall African looking man bumped into him. He was wearing a Doctor’s robe and looked unbelievably calm for someone in the current chaos. “Daniel, follow me,” the man said. Daniel was confused and alert.

  “H-how did you know my name?” Daniel replied. “My name is Nimbau. I’m a friend of your father’s,” he replied briskly as he rolled a trolley with a covered corpse.

  “Uh…” Daniel said. “Just follow me. We need to get the kid,” Nimbau said as he rolled the corpse into the seventh room on the left then closed the door. Daniel gazed at the image of the boy on the bed…his brother’s unknown child. The charts attached to the bed read;

  Name: Pablo Sanchez.

  Diagnosis: Possible Brain Damage or concussion

  Scheduled operation: 13th of September.

  “We have five minutes before his mother storms in here,” Nimbau said. Daniel said nothing as he watched Nimbau remove the wires from the little boy then whisper something into the boy’s ears. The boy’s eyes opened immediately. Pablo stood up from the bed then walked up to Daniel like a zombie. He then looked up at Daniel. The little boy’s eyes were deep. It was the weirdest thing he had ever seen, especially for a boy who was diagnosed with a possible brain damage.

  “It’s okay Daniel. The boy is fine. The doctors don’t understand what’s going with his brain,” Nimbau said as he placed the corpse on the bed. For some strange reason, Pablo only stared at Daniel. Daniel looked at Pablo then looked at Nimbau. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t speak. He watched as Nimbau placed the wires on a corpse that looked like Pablo.

  “Two more minutes before his mother storms in here,” Nimbau said calmly. Daniel jacked back into reality as he lifted the boy and headed for the door.

  “Try not to engage in a dialogue with Billy Sanchez when you see him,” Nimbau said without looking at Daniel.

  Daniel nodded then ran through the crowd of people, holding Tom. He hoped he wouldn’t see Catherine. He hoped the nurses wouldn’t notice. He saw the main door then bolted out.

  Catherine stormed into the seventh room on the right. She was livid. Her father tried to catch up with her. His bodyguard stood closely behind them. She gazed at the body on the bed as her heart skipped a beat. No one else was in the room. The machine showed that his heart wasn’t beating. Don Cruccifixo froze as he saw his grandson, on the bed, lying lifeless. She rushed up to her son’s body.

  “No! No! No! Not now! Please No!” she screamed as she hugged the lifeless body.

  “Nurse! Nurse! My grandson is dying!” Don Cruccifixo yelled. No one heard. Everyone was too busy taking care of other dying patients. The bodyguard ran out of the room. Minutes later, a nurse was dragged in. She was scared, but attended to the dying patient, immediately she observed the seriousness of the situation. She brought out a stethoscope, examined the pulse, and performed quick CPR. She did it again and again and again. Don Cruccifixo watched in horror. Catherine watched in hope. After minutes, the nurse shook her head.

  She pressed a button. Soon, a team of Nurses and Physicians stormed in. They performed a quick series of tests and revival techniques with high voltage external defibrillators, but nothing worked.

  “Time of death?” the Doctor called out.

  “12:47pm,” the Nurse called out. Catherine and Don Cruccifixo watched in horror as the Doctor gave his final verdict.

  “I’m sorry! Your son didn’t make it,” she said as she covered the boy’s body.

  “A-are you sure?” Don Cruccifixo asked.

  The nurse shook her head again. “I’m sorry sir,”

  Catherine hugged the corpse, stunned, and in disbelief. She looked almost catatonic. Thoughts of Billy, her husband, ran through her mind. Tears wanted to come out, but anger boiled out instead.

  “Dad! It was Billy! Billy did this! He beat me up like he always does and now he beat my son to death!” Catherine blurted out.

  Don Cruccifixo was al
armed. “He what!?”

  “I told you dad. I didn’t want to marry that slimy son of a bitch, but you were too engulfed in your political gain to reason with me. Now, your only grandson is dead and his blood is on your hands,” Catherine replied.

  Don Cruccifixo was too stunned and guilty to reply. He knew Catherine had marital problems, but he never knew she was being beaten by her husband. He was enraged.

  Catherine stormed out of the room in anger. “W-where are you going?” Don Cruccifixo asked.

  “To kill Billy,”

  Daniel Olivetti ran to the parking lot with the little boy. Everything going on that day was too strange to ponder. His encounter with the strange man who framed Pablo’s death was alarming. He didn’t know the connection between his father and Nimbau, the strange man. He quickly searched for the car he had stolen from an unknown person, during the chaos – a brown Toyota Camry. He put the boy in the back seat, strapped the seat belt on the boy then slammed the door shut.

  Billy Sanchez rode through the crazy traffic in his motorcycle. Everything bad seemed to be going on at once. He felt intense guilt. He woke up the previous night to see his wife and son on the floor. He remembered dialing 911, but he couldn’t remember much about the events that occurred the previous night. Some things were self-explanatory. He knew he had beaten his wife in drunken rage, again, but he didn’t know what happened to his son. Did he beat up his son? There were no marks on his son’s body. He remembered the lies he told the cops and the paramedic team. He blamed a burglar for all that happened.