Olivetti: Illumination

by Tamilore Odimayo

  He finally arrived at the hospital, but couldn’t find any parking. He could hear the permanent sound of sirens everywhere. New York was in a state of chaos and he was too preoccupied with his son’s safety to care about what was going on. He hoped the assassins killed Daniel Olivetti before the building went down. He decided to park his bike in a corner between two cars. He removed his helmet then sighed. He walked calmly towards the hospital as feelings of guilt engulfed his chest. He wished he wasn’t an angry jealous man. He wished he wasn’t an alcoholic, but he couldn’t help it. He remembered his son’s look of disappointment the night before. It struck his chest like a knife. He also remembered hanging in the air, but he dismissed it as a dream or hallucination he had during his blackout. The shattered glasses on the floor didn’t make sense either.

  He kept walking through the long parking lot, anticipating how he’d apologize to his wife, Catherine, for treating her like that. He hoped his son would forgive him. He passed by a brown Toyota Camry then stopped. The face of the man walking towards the driver’s seat was familiar.

  “Hey!” Billy called out. The man turned towards Billy. It was Daniel Olivetti. Billy’s eyes widened as he charged towards Daniel. “How!?”

  Daniel smiled. “You thought I was dead huh?”

  Billy threw a punch, but a hand stopped him. It was Nimbau, the same man at the hospital and the man assigned by the illuminati to protect little Pablo. “Get into the car, Daniel,”

  Billy struggled, but all was to no avail. Daniel walked into the car briskly, started the engine then poked his head out of the window. “You killed my father, I killed your son. We’re even,” He said as he drove off.

  Billy was enraged. He struggled to run towards the moving car, but Nimbau held Billy down firmly and effortlessly. “Leave me alone, Nigger,” Billy blurted out.

  “A disrespectful wife beater huh? I’m surprised Pablo didn’t kill you,” Nimbau said.

  “What? Wh-who are you?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Nimbau said calmly then looked straight into Billy’s eyes. Billy found Nimbau’s eyes inviting. He stared deeper and deeper.

  “Your son was killed by the Olivettis. You met a whole crew of them at the parking lot and they threatened to kill your entire family. You will go into the hospital and console your wife. You will vow vengeance and will never stop your vengeful thoughts until you are killed by the same woman whom you’ve caused so much pain to,” Nimbau said to Billy then let Billy go.

  Hypnosis. A gift he had. A gift he used quite often to protect the Illuminati’s interest. He was given those exact words to say by Frederick Olivetti, a member of his inner circle. Billy stood up, glanced at Nimbau then glanced at the hospital. Like a zombie, he walked away without saying a word.

  The sliding door of the hospital opened as he observed the chaos within. Rushing towards the entrance was a woman screaming in rage. “I’ll kill him!” Catherine yelled.

  Don Cruccifixo tried to hold her back. He stopped as soon as he saw Billy. He too was angry, but he knew well enough to understand the ramifications of murdering Billy. Catherine saw Billy and disgust rose through her chest. She was furious. She charged towards him. Everyone else in the hospital was alarmed.

  “W-wait! Catherine! Stop! Listen!” Billy replied, trying to avoid a scene. He held her.

  “Hey! Don’t you dare touch my daughter?” Don Cruccifixo yelled as he stood between Catherine and Billy. Don Cruccifixo’s bodyguard was alarmed and confused. Everywhere felt silent for a while. Everyone else in the hospital continued what they were doing.

  “You’ve been abusing my daughter? You beat her up every day huh? Makes you feel like a man?”

  “Look, I know you’re upset, but I know who killed our son! I just came across a group of Olivetti men at the parking lot...” Billy said then paused.

  Shock rose through Don Cruccifixo’s face as he immediately transferred his thoughts of anger from Billy to the Olivettis. Catherine’s mouth opened as she realized what Billy was about to say.

  “Daniel was here! He killed our son and they’re coming for us next…” Billy continued.

  “W-w-why?” Catherine asked as she started to tear up. She couldn’t believe her ears. She thought Walter would do anything to prevent his family from hurting her family. Every love she felt for Walter started to extinguish slowly. She looked at her husband then looked at her father.

  “W-why! Why would they just kill my son? He didn’t do anything to deserve it…” She said.

  Don Cruccifixo sighed. “Because we tried to kill Daniel Olivetti…”

  “But Frederick Olivetti was killed instead,” Billy added with half a smile on his face.

  “Frederick is dead?” Don Cruccifixo asked. Billy nodded. “That’s what Daniel told me. It seemed like he was in serious pain…”

  “And the best way to hurt both the Cruccifixos and the Sanchez family was by killing little Pablo,” Don Cruccifixo said to himself. His understanding of mafia politics surpassed the others.

  He was now seated. His palm was on his face. It happened too fast. He had lost a friend and an enemy, at the same time. He had also lost a grandson. He couldn’t blame Daniel for taking such drastic actions. He never expected Frederick to put himself in a vulnerable position, to be killed. It didn’t stop him from boiling on the inside. He wished Daniel killed him instead. He wished it was a fair vendetta; assassination of one mob boss for the assassination of the other mob boss.

  Catherine was beyond bitter. Her hate for the Olivettis began to rise. She completely forgot about her husband’s cruelty because her taste for vengeance surpassed her relationship preference. She walked up to Billy, the man that had hated her for loving an Olivetti. She knew she could only attain vengeance through the help of her husband’s family.

  “Promise me something and I’ll give my loyalty back to you in return,” she said with tears of regret. She regretted trusting Walter. After all, family is all that mattered to the Olivettis. She was just too surprised to know Walter Olivetti stood aside while the deliberation of her son’s death took place. Billy looked down at her then held her elbows with both arms. He knew what she wanted and he wanted what she wanted. He knew despite his mistreatment towards her, she was more than willing to forgive him to make sure the Olivettis paid for their sins.

  “I swear to you, as long as I’m breathing. Every Olivetti will pay for what they did to our son,” he swore, ignorant about what really happened to little Pablo.

  30

  Present day

  The sound of the Helicopter was deafening. It blew dust all over the Cartel premises. A neatly dressed man walked out of the chopper with three other men. His hair was glossy and firm. It resisted the wind coming from the Helicopter’s blade motor. His blue stripped suit seemed immune to dust. Everyone nodded with respect as he walked by. His witty confident charm seemed to impress those who watched him.

  He finally walked into the warehouse where Tom was and smiled. His footsteps echoed. He looked at Don Sanchez then looked at Tom. Six other Cartel bosses were present. All said nothing. “Amigo,” he said as he shook Don Sanchez’s hands. They chatted for a few seconds then faced Tom.

  “Mister Olivetti. You’re far away from home. May I ask what you’re doing here and how you found this place?” the neatly dressed man asked. Tom looked down at the man, still dangling from the chains. He had been hanging for six hours. Tom said nothing.

  The man was disappointed. He sighed. “Do you know who I am?” the man asked. There was a long silence.

  “Carlos Ramirez. President of Mexico. Head of Cartels. El Jefe or whatever you call yourself these days,” Tom said abruptly.

  President Ramirez grinned. He adjusted his suit then bent down to clean the speck of dust on his shoes. “That’s good! Good! I’m surprised. You walked into my country, without any form of fear, like a galant and immune American…” Ramirez said in his thick Mexican accent.

  “Lose the accent, Ramirez. You were raised
in America. Stop pretending to be something you’re not,” Tom scoffed.

  President Ramirez laughed as he walked around Tom. “You’re smart. Very smart. All Olivettis I know are smart. That’s why they’ve all cost my family so much in this drug business,”

  He paused then continued, “But anyways, now that your uncles are dead and the leadership is down, I’ll be calling the shots. The other mob families will have to bow to me. I’ll own America’s underworld as well as Mexico’s. As a matter of fact, most have already pledged their allegiance to me out of fear.”

  “The problem is, no one pledges their allegiance to you. I mean, after all, you’re only a myth. The boss that’s not there. You have front men doing all your work for you. To your Dons, you’re the boss, but to others outside the Cartel, who don’t know you, you’re just the foolish President of Mexico who can’t run his own country effectively,” Tom said. President Ramirez’s smile changed to a frown.

  He lifted his hand and two men came in with six aggressive looking Pitbulls. The dogs barked viciously. They were thirsty for blood. Their teeth were sharp. They drooled as they barked ferociously. They released the chains. Tom dropped from six feet above the ground to two feet above the ground. The chains dangled as he slumped downwards, slightly.

  The dogs continued to bark continuously. “See, I was hoping to torture you myself, but then, I realized you’re just an animal. I mean, a disrespectful animal. And I don’t like disrespectful animals. I think animals should die like animals. They should be hunted down and killed by other animals…”

  “My dogs have been raised to eat flesh and drink blood. They can’t eat anything else. Not even American dog food. None of that Pedigree shit!” he added then sighed.

  Tom was unbothered by the dogs. He paid no attention to President Ramirez’s words. He pierced through the old man’s thoughts for all relevant information relating the cartels. He stopped.

  “Who’s Mohammed Akbar?” Tom asked with a smile. President Ramirez froze.

  “How…how did…where did you hear that name?” He asked in terror and surprise.

  “Interesting…” Tom began. He adjusted himself on the chains. “So I know why I had the urge to come to Cartel territory despite all logic. You guys have been funneling money to the Al Qaeda movement. Heck! You helped with 9/11. Now, I wonder what citizens of my country will say when they find out about all this,” Tom smiled.

  President Ramirez was surprised. He switched his attention to his Dons. They had no idea what Tom was talking about.

  “How the hell did you figure that out?” President Ramirez asked. “The same way I figured out your mistress…or should I say, male lover…oh yes. He is still in your hotel room, hiding. Hiding because he is scared you’ll kill him if he exposes you…”

  President Ramirez was stunned beyond measure and so were the other Dons.

  “Lies! Lies!” he blurted out.

  “The only one living a lie here is you!” Tom replied.

  “Shut up!” he replied, distraught and embarrassed.

  The other Cartel bosses murmured among themselves in a state of confusion. Even Don Sanchez was surprised.

  “Well, citizens of your country will never find out about Mohammed Akbar! They’re too busy enjoying the death of Osama Bin Laden. Plus, who’s going to tell them? You? I don’t think so. You’ll be in the belly of my beasts by the end of the day,” President Ramirez said, referring to his vicious dogs.

  Tom sighed. “You don’t even have any idea who Mohammed Akbar is. Funny! You’re just a pawn – a dog on the king’s table. I will walk out of here alive and I’ll kill you first then kill Don Sanchez last after killing every single one of your men,”

  They all burst in condescending laughter.

  The vicious dogs barked even louder. President Ramirez lifted his hands and the dogs were released. Barking and running, the dogs headed towards the only supper they were allowed to have in weeks. Everyone watched in slow motion as the seven dogs ran towards Tom. Some laughed, others prepared to watch the horror.

  President Ramirez was calmly anticipated the ruin of Tom—the man who had the guts to disrespect him in front of his workers, the man who had the guts to expose a secret he had kept from the general public. He wanted to spare Tom’s life to find out how he knew about Mohammed Akbar, but he decided it wasn’t worth it. Any mercy could be construed as weakness among the Cartels.

  To their surprise, the dogs stopped as soon as they got to Tom. Their vicious barking stopped as they looked up at Tom dangling on the chains. It was like they were waiting for advice.

  “What the hell!” Don Sanchez said in a state of confusion. Tom snapped the chains holding him, like a piece of thread. He landed on the ground. All weapons in the room were suddenly pointed at him, in fear. They were all too confused and too weak. Fear and curiosity prevented them from pulling the trigger. How did a mere man break through iron chains?

  “Kill Ramirez,” Tom whispered in one of the dog’s ears as he stroked their fur. All the dogs suddenly turned towards Ramirez. Every Cartel boss present suddenly felt the need to run, but their legs were too weak to move. Tom’s training in the illuminati was paying off. He had learned to speak and control animals through pheromone manipulation. President Ramirez gathered the strength to run as his own dogs chased him down.

  “Shoot him!” President Ramirez ordered his men, running as fast as possible. They watched in horror and awe as one of the dogs grabbed President Ramirez on his leg. He fell. Soon all they could hear were screams as the dogs dug through his flesh with their teeth. “Help! Help!” he yelled. One of his men tried to help, but two dogs simultaneously guarded the other dogs as they ate through President Ramirez’s flesh. The dogs were too organized to be dogs.

  Tom smiled. Don Sanchez noticed Tom’s grin. He knew it was too late to save President Ramirez, but he wasn’t about to let Tom go scot free. He felt like he was in a bad dream he couldn’t wake up from. “Kill him!!!”

  Suddenly, all twenty men present in the dark warehouse fired their automatic weapons at Tom. A tremendous surge of energy filtered through Tom’s spine. He could now feel every animate and inanimate object in the warehouse. Everything paused. He could hear their beating hearts. He could hear the clicks and springs in the automatic firearms. He could smell the blood oozing from President Ramirez’s nearly dead corpse. He could feel the bullets scatter through the guns as they surged through the molecules in the air. He could hear the other alarmed Cartel members outside the warehouse as they ran towards the sound of bullets.

  The bullets stopped midair. Surprise and horror went through the faces of all Cartel bosses present, including Don Sanchez. They kept shooting, but all bullets seemed to stop five inches away from Tom. Soon, they ran out of bullets. They watched all the bullets they shot hang in the air. In the midst of the bullets, Tom stood with his eyes closed as he processed everything happening. Don Sanchez regretted his decision to capture Tom. They all shook in fear. Some ran, but some were still too scared to move.

  “What the fuck is he?”

  “What the fuck is happening?”

  “El diablo,”

  “W-wake me up! I must be dreaming,”

  All their thoughts mumbled into one outstanding emotion—fear. He coughed. Suddenly, the bullets hanging in the air, with more speed, pierced through the shooters. He dashed forward with speed, strength and agility. He snapped the first Cartel boss’s neck then slammed his fist through the second Cartel boss’s spine. He dropped down like a corpse, immediately dead. The seven dogs turned towards the other cartel bosses then viciously consumed their flesh. Tom walked towards Don Sanchez.

  “P-ple-please. I- I’m sorry. It was Ramirez’s decision to kill your uncles. I had nothing to do with it.”

  Suddenly, more men poured into the warehouse like bees on honey. They pointed their guns directly at Tom. Don Sanchez sighed in relief as he used that opportunity to run away. They shot at Tom without waiting for orders. Tom stopped
their heart beat. Immediately, all forty of men dropped dead.

  “Bring out all weapons!” one of the men yelled. Tom was determined to end it all. He knew he had exposed his powers too much to let anyone walk out alive. He ran towards the center of the premises, outside the warehouse. Eight buildings surrounded him. His feet were dusty. The dogs followed him like puppets. All the bosses were dead except Don Sanchez. The chopper was still there. Over forty-five snipers were now on the roofs. Some pointed their bazookas; others pointed their automatic fire arms. A Mexican standoff.

  They formed a circle around Tom. “Stay where you are!” one of the men yelled out. Tom froze. He looked around carefully. Fearful pheromones oozed from the skins of the men. He could hear their thoughts. He searched for one person, Don Sanchez. Finally, he could see Don Sanchez getting away. He was already in the car. Tom charged at one of the men, grabbed his weapon and jabbed him on his head. They turned to shoot at him. He closed his eyes.

  They all blacked out. Blind. None could see. They shot their weapons blindly with hope that a bullet will get Tom. Instead, they killed themselves. The dogs attacked the others, still hungry for flesh. Tom systematically killed the rest without a weapon.

  Outside the walls, Don Sanchez could hear the wails of his men. It was a sound of terror. Explosions. Gun shots. Dogs barking and eating. Men dying. Fire. He was beyond terrified. He sped off alone, hoping to get to a place of safety and hoping Tom was dead. Somehow, he knew Tom was still alive. The thought of Tom coming after him scared him. He remembered Tom’s death threat and he hoped the boy was bluffing. The events of that day felt like a science fiction movie.

  He swerved through the desert road, uncontrollably, as he left a trail of dust behind him. He looked back through the rear view mirror, no one was behind him. He was sweating and the hot desert heat seemed to contribute more to his excess perspiration. He sped through the market place, to a remote location, then parked his car. He was panting profusely. He finally gathered the strength to dial a number on his satellite phone. He needed a quick and immediate extraction. He ran into a building then to a door. It was one of his safe houses, built with mud clay. No one was around for miles. He rushed to a closet, brought out a double barrel gun, loaded it then placed it on the table as he looked through the open window for anyone coming.